With some people, sex is like quicksand. There is no danger as long as you stay away from it. But once you stumble in, the more you struggle, the deeper and faster you sink.
I know. Because I'm still hopelessly trapped in such a murky, deadly quagmire of human emotions and physical cravings.
This book isn't being written to help any one except myself. Should any other reader somehow benefit by this sordid glimpse into the pit reserved especially for the woman or man who is over-passionate, then the publishers will be rewarded for daring to print what is all too true by a hellish reality.
All I can do now is try and set down the steps that led to my private purgatory. To make one final effort to sift through the smut and sins strangling any last remaining decency before my self-destruction is complete.
What we find won't be much. Still, the search is all the chance I have to find something I can cling to and use to haul myself back to the worthwile life I've already so shamelessly abused.
Maybe, you're already sinking in the same sort of sexual quicksand. Maybe, you don't even know it or want to admit being trapped by biological lusts which have crept beyond control. Or maybe, you're the squeamish type. Perhaps, the story between these pages will sicken you. Offend you. Shock you.
The search I make by putting words on paper is mine. I go alone. So too must you make your own search for whatever it is you seek in following along on the succeeding pages.
Good luck to us both!
Martha Boss
CHAPTER ONE
It started raining hard soon after I'd come home from school and had changed into my play clothes.
There were four of us using the swing set on the neighboring backyard. Ralph Owens jumped off his swing, sprinting for the playhouse.
"Come on!" he called back to us.
Jeannie Patterson and Bobby Flath abandoned the glider swing, scurrying after Ralph. "Come on, Martha!" Jeannie urged as I stood beside the slide.
Mother and I were new to the neighborhood. We'd just moved to Madison, Wisconsin that summer, a month before the start of the school year. The house we had rented was in a mixed district where Negroes predominated.
Once, before, my mother had found me inside that shabby white and green playhouse that belonged to the Owens family. Ralph and I had only been playing with his marble game. I liked Ralph. He was in sixth grade. Even if I was two years younger, he never teased me or refused to play with me. He didn't have any brothers or sisters, either. His mother and father were divorced, too.
I had known why my mother had forbidden me to play inside that small frame playhouse with an older Negro boy. She had explained about sex. About how boys and men would try to feel of my backside and between my legs. My breasts were flat as yet but mother had told me the day would come when they would fill out and become round, firm swells of additional temptation to attract boys. She'd warned me never to let anyone see me naked or touch my private parts.
No one had ever tried getting fresh with me. Maybe, because I was so homely. I wore glasses and braces on my teeth. My eyes were set too far apart and my nose was too small. I was tall for a girl, long-legged and gawky with dirty-looking blonde hair that wouldn't hold a curl.
The cold, pelting rain chased me in the direction of the playhouse. Mother wasn't home from her secretarial job in the state capitol office building, yet. I preferred to be with the other children to being alone inside that rented house with its dark, empty rooms.
Bobby Flath grinned at me as I entered the shadowy playhouse. His eyes went over the front of my dress. The striped cotton fabric was wetly plastered to my skin. My dingy yellow-brown hair was matted to my cheeks.
"Geez, did you get soaked! What took you so long getting in here?" Bobby asked.
Ralph Owens reached up on a shelf and fished out a pack of cigarettes from behind a couple of empty pop bottles. He held the pack out to Jeannie Patterson. She took one. So did Bobby. Then, it was my turn. I took out a cigarette, too.
After Ralph lit our smokes with the matches he'd also taken from concealment on that crude wooden shelf nailed between the studs of the playhouse, we just stood around and smoked. I didn't inhale. Either did Jeannie, I noticed. But both boys did.
Jeannie was pretty. She was a grade ahead of me at public school. Her complexion was light brown so she looked more like a well-tanned white girl than a mulatto. Even her lips weren't as full and large as most Negroes. Her dark brown hair wasn't kinky or coarse and wiry, either. The faded green dress she was wearing had belonged to one of her older sisters. Even if it was several sizes too big for her, I could see the small, high curves of her breasts.
Ralph took another long drag on his cigarette. He stared out at the darkening sky where the streaks of chilling rain still bombarded the green lawns.
"I've got to take a pee," he said. He flipped out his nearly-finished cigarette and unzipped his pants.
I stared at his exposed penis with great fascination. It was the first time I'd ever seen a boy's thing. How long and thick it was. I watched Ralph urinate and saw his penis become gradually limp as he directed the spray out across the grass, aiming for the smoldering remnant of his discarded smoke.
Bobby Flat chuckled, moving up behind me. "I just pissed before I came out," he said. "Otherwise, I'd show you some squirts that would go twice that far."
I laughed nervously, feeling Bobby's hand brushing against the rear of my blue and white striped skirt. I edged away from his fondling fingers, saying, "As soon as this rain lets up, I have to go home. My mother will be out looking for me in a little while, otherwise."
Jeannie Patterson giggled, reaching for one of the empty soda pop bottles. She hitched up her skirt and peeled down her cheap white cotton panties. She held the mouth of the bottle against her naked cunt.
"Watch this. I won't spill a drop."
Bobby and Ralph laughed, seeing the spurts of yellow urine swirling down the insides of the empty glass bottle.
"Hey, that's what you call accuracy!" Ralph complimented. He sauntered over to Jeannie. As she removed the half-filled bottle from the entrance to her crack, Ralph brought up his right hand. His extended forefinger poked into Jeannie's vagina, easily penetrating her hole.
"Ohh, umm! That's real nice in there," Jeannie murmured. She slid her feet apart, spreading her legs. Her eyes closed as she moaned, swaying in cadence with Ralph's even, deepening thrusts with his inserted finger.
I swallowed hard a number of times in rapid succession. My body tingled with curious excitement while I watched them. I stared at the other girl's exposed pubic bush. I had almost no hair surrounding my cunt.
Ralph was doing it to her faster and faster. Jeannie rocked and quivered, panting with aroused enjoyment of his daring intimacies.
Bobby Flath moved in behind me again. He'd tossed away his cigarette. Both of his hands dropped down over my shoulders and cupped at my non-existent breasts.
"No boobs, huh? Well, let me fool around and I'll make 'em for you."
I submitted to his slowly clenching and unclenching fingers. After all, what was the harm? I wanted to have big breasts. How I envied girls like Jeannie who were far more matured physically than I.
Ralph had unbuttoned the top of Jeannie's green dress. She wore a white brassiere. He undid that, too. He pulled the bra cups away from the dusky contrast of her nude breasts tipped by dark red nipples. She stood on her tiptoes, swaying in so he could fit one of her bared contours into his mouth. I saw his cheeks draw in as he sucked lustily at that heavily-nippled sphere.
"Uhh, umm! Sweet, baby!" Ralph muttered. His hand kept pumping between her thighs. He had several of his fingers stuck inside her hole.
Jeannie moaned, leaning forward so she could set the bottle filled with her urine on the battered card table at one side of the playhouse.
Bobby pushed in against my backside. I felt the prods of his rigid cock. I squirmed, trying to move away from the contact. His bunching hands held me. I didn't really try too much to avoid the poking pressures aimed at my rectum.
"What color panties you got on today, Martha?" His low voice was hoarse with mounting lust.
I kept looking at Ralph and Jeannie. He was sucking vigorously at her other nude breast, now. She gave a gasp of sensation. Her sensual lips curved and parted in a pleased smile of moaning gratification. Ralph's fingers pushed far inside her vagina as she had a second orgasm.
At the time, I didn't know what was happening. I only saw that what Ralph was doing to Jeannie made her happy. None of us ever smiled or laughed very much. Life was grim survival where words like love, security and happiness didn't belong.
Bobby had taken one of his hands away from my undeveloped breast. That hand slipped under the rear of my striped skirt and came up to press against the crack of my buttocks. I could feel the bold, inquiring warmth of his palm through the thin rayon of my pink briefs.
"You shouldn't do this," I heard myself whisper. But the words never left my trembling lips. He took away his other hand from the front of my dress. He knelt behind me and flipped up my skirt. He got in beneath the dress. He pushed his face against my panties, nuzzling at the crack dividing my rounded flanks.
"Ohh, man! What a cute hinder," Bobby praised. His straying fingertips gazed along the damp crotch of my panties and inched beneath them to make brushing contact with my genitals. "Ohh, doll! Is your hole ever hot and juicy!"
Jeannie had eased down on the playhouse floor. Ralph had stripped from his slacks and undershorts. He got down on top of her, guiding his huge, hardened prick into her gaping vagina. Jeannie gave a whimper of welcoming delight. Then, their naked loins bucked and writhed in frenzied coitus.
I went off without realizing I was experiencing my first orgasm. Without fully being aware that Bobby Flat had skimmed down my wispy pink briefs so he could commit the searing cunnilingus that almost caused me to faint from sheer ecstasy. He continued the ravenous oral sex contacts until I went off again and again, sobbing in sensual elation.
But when he sought to push me down on the floor so he could cram his enlarged penis into my bubbling vagina, I shoved him back, hastily drawing up my briefs and brushing down my disarranged blue and white striped skirt.
"No! I won't let you do that!" My voice was sharp with frightened forbidding.
Bobby scowled, whirling to regard Jeannie and Ralph. Ralph had just ejaculated inside the other girl's cunt. As he shakily arouse. Bobby sank down on top of Jeannie, steering his thing into her vagina.
Ralph grinned at me. He was still naked from the waist down. He came over and took my hand. He guided it to his genitals, saying, "Just rub it a little, Martha. After it gets up again, I'll put it in your cunt. Just so you know how good it feels. I'll come out before I go off. I'll do that in your back hole. That way, you don't have to worry about getting knocked up."
As soon as my fingers furled around his penis, I forgot about the hard rain. About my mother. About the colored boy and girl busily fucking at the other end of the shabby playhouse.
I smiled through my shell--rimmed glasses at the tall, nice-looking boy who treated me like a pretty, desirable young woman. "Will it hurt, Ralph?"
"Naw. I'll do it nice and easy. It won't hurt a bit. Once I've picked your cherry for you, you'll like it lots." He casually lifted my skirt. He peered at the crotch of my pink undies. "How did you like having Bobby lick at it?"
"It was all right, I guess. He made it a little sore, though. His fingers were rough."
Ralph eased down my briefs and stared at my hairless loins. "Yeah. I can see he chafed you around your honey hole, Martha. I'll fix that." He guided both of us to the floor. He moved around so I could still play with his lubricating penis while he started kissing at my nude cunt. His mouth tenderly caressed at my most sensitive flesh.
"Ooh,-I fell so funny! So wonderful! Umm, ohh, mmm!" I moaned in marveling enjoyment of the sensations flooding through my entire body. I had orgasm, clinging to his throbbing genitals.
Ralph vaulted on top of me while I was lost in the delirious throes of another climax. His reactivated sex organ sank inside my vagina with a quick, practiced thrust. He was right. There wasn't any pain. Only the ecstasy of feeling as his big penis slid smoothly back and forth within my clamoring femininity.
True to his word, Ralph disengaged from our coital pleasures before he went off. He flipped me over on my stomach. His prick just managed to squeeze inside my rectum as it ejaculated, filling me with thudding spurts of male tribute to my desirability as a woman.
We both were too shaken and spent by our erotic adventure to speak. Jeannie and Bobby had already dressed and hurried homeward once the rain had slackened to a steady drizzle.
As we slipped from the shadowy playhouse, Ralph drew me in and kissed me. A long, passionate kiss that told me I was his girl.
Running across the darkened backyards, I saw the lights on inside our aging frame A-story home.
Mother was in the kitchen, preparing supper. She scarcely looked up from the potatoes she was peeling as I skipped in through the back door.
"Hi, Mom! I'll set the table for us," I said. I went over to her and kissed her cheek.
She reached for the second potato. "You'll have to do the dishes by yourself tonight, Martha. I have a date."
I smiled, looking at her. She was so beautiful but so sad-looking. She and my father had been divorced the year after Td been born. I couldn't even remember what he looked like any more.
"With Mr. Hansen again?" I asked. Tom Hansen was an executive with one of the largest life insurance companies in the state.
Mother nodded, managing a tired smile. "Yes. We're going bowling. He wanted to take me out to dinner again tonight. I told him I'd rather eat home with you. I invited him over. He should be driving in any minute now."
So I set three places at our dinette table.
His new Oldsmobile sedan swung into the graveled drive beside the house about ten minutes later. He smiled down at me. He took his hand out from behind him. He handed me a pound box of chocolate candy.
"That's for being such a sweet girl, Martha."
Mother came over and kissed him. "And that's for being such a nice guy, Tom," she softly told him.
I saw his admiring gaze go over the full, firm curves of her breasts against the front of her dark blue sheath dress.
"It's easy being nice to a girl as gorgeous as you are, Barbara," he replied.
Standing there, watching them look at each other, I knew what their eyes were saying. That they wanted to go to bed together. That when they returned from their bowling date, they would repeat their previous sexual intimacies in mother's bedroom.
I didn't have too homework. Doing up the supper dishes, I read the next day's assignment from the history book I'd left open on the formica counter top.
By 10:00 P.M., I'd taken my bath and changed into my flannel pajamas. There had been just a tiny smattering of blood on my pink briefs. I'd rinsed them out and hung them over the towel bar above the tub.
Crawling beneath the bedcovers, I gave a contented sigh of sleepy relaxation. Sex wasn't bad.
If a girl wanted to be liked, she had to let herself be kissed and felt up and fucked by boys. Other wise, they wouldn't want anything to do with her.
I heard Tom Hansen and Mother come in. It was about midnight and I'd dozed off to sleep. But I was a light sleeper and the sounds of their hushed voices was all it took to awaken me.
They appeared in the doorway and glanced in at me.
"She's asleep," Mother murmured. "The poor, dear child. I wish I could do better for her. She's so good, so deserving of a real home and happiness."
"You do the best you can. It's too bad she didn't inherit your looks, Barbara."
They moved across the dark hallway to the other bedroom. I opened my eyes, peering after them, still hearing their muted voices.
"I saw your wife's picture on the society page in Sunday's paper," Mother said. "She's very attractive, Tom."
"Yeah. A cold, lovely bitch who prefers sleeping alone. How we ever got together often enough to have three kids is more than I can understand."
"I imagine some women can't help being frigid. Any more than women like me can help being over-passionate."
"Nadine isn't frigid. She's just afraid to give me too much sexual satisfaction. Her shrewd, silvery-haired snob of a mother warned her not to overdo in the love-making department for fear I'd grow tired of her."
I slipped from beneath the covers and crossed the unlighted room. I moved soundlessly into the hallway so I could-look inside the other bedroom.
Mother had turned on the light inside the closet. She removed her dark blue dress and shook back her long, blonde hair, reaching back for the clasp of her midnight blue brassiere.
"We can't go all the way tonight, Tom," she quietly said.
He nodded, stepping from his boxer style men's briefs. Even in the dimness, I saw that his sex organ was semi-erected. It was bigger than Ralph's but not much. He had a thick thatch of dark pubic hair that contrasted with the whiteness of his hips and thighs.
"You know what I like to do when it's the wrong time of month for us."
My mother smiled, skimming down her clinging blue panties. Her skin was a delicate ivory adorned by twin coral nipples and a triangular bush of dark blonde hair sloping between her lovely legs.
She climbed up on the vanity bench.
Tom walked over to her. His hands slipped into her naked crotch. He widened the pinkened slit of flesh giving access to her loins. He lowered his head and started making groans of approval as he kissed at her cunt.
Mother's hands gripped Tom's bare shoulders for support. She moaned, her body undulating in response to his burrowing cunnilingus.
"Ohh, keep teasing your tongue against my clitoris!" she urged.
Tom needed no such encouragement. He crowded in his hands hugging at her nude buttocks, holding her so he could almost submerge his face within her vagina.
I crept closer, wanting to see it all. They were too aroused to notice me. Tom carried my mother to the bed. He dropped down so his sex organ was dangling above her face. She reached for it, bringing it down so she could kiss it. Tom gave a grunt of smothered acclaim as she began fellatio. He resumed cunnilingus with his hands wedged in her backside, hoisting her hole for his most avid sex searchings.
Always in the past, I'd pretended at sleep. I hadn't dared to sneak out of my room to witness such passionate interludes. Yet, I'd imagined how it would be. I'd heard my mother's moans of sensual rapture, the rhythmic creakings of the bed, the stifled gasps of a man's labored breathing as he'd attained a climax.
Now, silently returning to my room, I knew that reality was more exciting than my fancied illusions. I felt guilty, wishing that Tom Hansen might come in and duplicate the sex liberties he was sharing with my mother. I tried to dismiss such disturbing notions. I thought about that afternoon in the playhouse. I found myself wishing I'd let Bobby Flath do it all the way with me. I wasn't worried about getting pregnant. After all, I hadn't even started to menstruate.
CHAPTER TWO
My first period came the next year a few weeks after Christmas.
I was at a movie theatre one Friday night when Joe Evans and Don Buelow came in. They sat down on both sides of me. Don started necking with me. I ate most of his hot, buttered popcorn while he felt of my breasts. They were small, just beginning to bud. His hands clawed at the front of my wool tan sweater.
Joe pushed his hand in against my knees. I kept them tightly closed. "Open up, Martha," he mumbled. When he continued to persist in his efforts to pet me, I finally relented, letting my legs relax.
Don took back the nearly empty popcorn box. He flung it high above the seats so that it's shadow crossed the flickering images on the movie screen.
There were only about a hundred patrons at the show. Teenagers, mostly. Someone else tossed something up. It fluttered down on the row of empty seats ahead of me. I saw it was a pair of girl's panties.
"Get us some popcorn," I told Don.
He left his seat and hiked up the carpeted aisle to the theatre lobby.
Joe jerked his hand out from between my legs. He scowled, staring at his fingertips. "Geez, why don't you let a guy know when you're wearing the rag?"
While both boys were absent, Lois Griffin and Kathy Howel slipped into the vacated seats on either side of me.
Kathy leaned over to whisper in my ear, saying, "We saw Joe and Don working on you. How far did you let them go, Martha?"
I shrugged. "Not very far. Not when I'm in the middle of my period." I said it very casually. As if I'd been menstruating for years.
Both other girls were several years older than me. Lois had dated Joe Evans for nearly a year before he'd dropped her for another girl.
Lois was watching me rather than the movie on the screen. Her gaze went over the small evidences of my breasts against the tan cashmere sweater.
"I bet you don't even wear a bra." She sounded scornful. Contemptuous. Her breasts were very large. Probably a size 42C. And she wasn't even 16 yet.
"My boods feel better when they aren't bound up," I carelessly commented, keeping my eyes on the torrid love scene being played by Brigette Bardot and some long-haired male actor.
"You aren't even twelve pet," Lois snipped. "Don't you know any better than to let those creeps mess around with your crack when it's bleeding?"
"She's nothing but a stupid, stringy-haired little pig," Kathy said, getting up. "Come on, Lois. Let her learn the hard way."
Don Buelow was back just as the older girls scooted out of the row of seats. He slid into the seat next to me. He'd brought two boxes of fresh popcorn. He handed me one box and began munching mouthfuls from his box.
Joe returned a minute later. He'd bought some candy bars for us. I necked with him as we chewed on caramels. Our saliva mingled, tasting sweet and warm. His tongue licked all around the inside of my mouth. I was beginning to get all hot and bothered by then.
The middle-aged manager of the theatre patrolled the aisle, flicking the beam of his flashlight in at the clinching couples. A high school age boy and girl were really smooching it up a few rows in back of us. The brunette had her blouse unbuttoned and her brassiere unfastened so that the creamy entirety of one breast was revealed.
"Okay, out of here, you two!" the manager snapped.
"Go fuck yourself, you old turd!" defiantly snarl ed the boy interrupted in his oral explorations of that disclosed boob.
Amid derisive hoots and catcalls, the manager spun and scurried back to the lobby.
On the lighted screen, the imported blonde sex goddess was taking off her slacks. She wore no panties. In vivid technicolor, the ivory cuteness of her lush young buttocks was bared for the world to behold. Her breasts were next to be unveiled. They were pert with small pink nipples.
"Ohh, sweet momma!" some boy to the left of us loudly groaned. Lots of laughter. More moaning exclamations of masculine approval at sight of her semi-naked splendor as she sprawled on a beach blanket with her boobs imbedded in the sunny sands and her backside filmed at close range by the camera above her.
Joe Evans must have forgot. His fingers sneaked inside my panties and crowded against my sanitary napkin. He started sliding his fingers in and out of my vagina. I had an orgasm, spreading my legs to permit his greater intimacies.
Don returned to the lobby and came back with paper cups filled with orange-ade. He only bought two, though. One for me and the other for himself. Joe couldn't have drank anything, anyway. He had both of his hands beneath my skirt. One palm was hugging at my buttocks while his thrusting trio of fingers brought me to another fabulous climax.
We stayed and saw the foreign film through twice. By then, the theatre was virtually empty except for a dozen other couples indulging in similar necking and petting activities.
I saw Kathy Howell leave with a guy wearing work clothes. He was at least in his mid-twenties. He wasn't very good-looking but he was big.
Lois Griffin strolled up the theatre aisle a minute later. She was with another older man I didn't know, either.
As they went out, Don Buelow started necking with me again. He had his hands under my sweater. He kept squeezing and rubbing at my tiny breasts. The nipples were taut and tingling despite their inadequate size.
Joe Evans had finally tired of finger-fucking me. Instead, he was down on his knees with his face pushed in against my panties. His hands roamed over my crotch and along the crevice of my buttocks. He was getting the full feel despite the interfering sanitary napkin.
When the movie ended, we left. Joe said goodnight and climbed on his bike. As he pedalled off toward his home at the opposite side of town, Don walked me in the direction of my house.
"This is as far as I go," he said twenty minutes later when we were within five blocks of the neighborhood where I lived.
"Cripes, how can you stand living among the niggers, Martha? I drove through here a week ago with my two older brothers. We had our gas-fired pellet pistols along. A bunch of blacks tried to block the street so we couldn't get through. My oldest brother Hank was driving. He floored the accelerator pedal and we bowled that bunch of niggers in all directions." Don laughed at the memory. "I winged two or three with those .22 calibre lead pellets. Man, did they holler and swear after us!"
I'd heard about the skirmish from Ralph Owens.
He'd been one of the boys who had barricaded the East side street to block off the carloads of white boys cruising the neighborhood the previous Friday night.
Don led me across a darkened front lawn and pulled me in behind some high shrubs. We stretched out in the grass. He flipped up my skirt and took off my panties. I unzipped his slacks, fishing his penis out through the opening in his cotton knit briefs.
He gently extracted my wad so be could stroke his long, caressing fingers inside my vagina. The scant traces of blood didn't bother him. We continued slow, pleasurable mutual masturbation to orgasm. Then, as I went off a second time, Don made the coital insertion. He pumped furiously on top of me until I felt his thudding ejaculation buffeting my innermost flesh. I went off again, clinging to him, moaning in savoring ecstasy.
Mother was asleep when I crept through the house. It was 1:30 A.M.
We both slept until almost noon Saturday. After lunch we cleaned and washed clothes and had ourselves a good, enjoyable talk-fest. Weekends were our only chance to spend much time together. Late that balmy October afternoon, we washed and set our hair.
The man who came to call for Mother that night wasn't Tom Hansen. Mother didn't introduce us because at the sound of the door chimes, I hurried into my bedroom. She hadn't told her current date about me.
After they drove off, I returned to the living room. I turned on our aging 19-inch television set and flopped down on the slip-covered sofa to watch the last part of the Lawrence Welk show.
The program was just ending when someone rang the door chimes again. I swung my legs off the couch and got up. I crossed the softly lighted room and went to the front door.
Tom Hansen was standing on the cement platform. He wore a muted plaid sport coat and sharply creased brown slacks. His dark hair was freshly slicked with whatever hair dressing he used and his lean features were cleanly shaved.
"Oh, hi," I said, smiling uncertainly out at him through the screen door.
He opened the screen door and entered the hallway. "Hi, Martha. How are you tonight?"
"Fine. I'm just fine, Mr. Hansen. Uh, Mother isn't here. She-"
"I know. I didn't come to see her. I was nearby and I decided to drop by to visit you."
His eyes were making a leisurely inspection of my tall, flat-chested figure. The brown and yellow checked wash dress I had on hung loosely down from my body.
We went into the living room. I switched off the TV set. Turning to face my unexpected visitor, I said, "It was very nice of you to think of me. Won't you please sit down?"
He sauntered over to me. "What would you say if I told you I was going to give you ten dollars, Martha?"
I smiled brightly up at him. "I'd say thanks!"
He chuckled, slipping his arm around my waist. He led us in the direction of the bedrooms. Instead of taking me to my room, he guided us through the doorway of Mother's bedroom. He flicked the light switch connected to the twin vanity lamps.
"Start taking off your clothes, Martha. I'll put the ten dollars here on top of this bureau."
I stared at him without moving. "You must be kidding!"
He took a bill from his handsome brown leather wallet and placed it on the bureau. Replacing the billfold in his hip pocket, he casually removed his sport coat and draped it over the back of a chair.
"Come on, honey. You know what it's all about. You don't have to be shy. Not with me."
I shook my head. "You've got to be drunk! What makes you think I'd take off my dress just because you asked me to?"
He grinned, loosening his belt, then unzipping his brown slacks. He eased them down and stepped out of them. "Do you want me to rip off your clothes, Martha? I'd prefer not to have to rape you. We'd both like it lots better if you cooperate."
I could tell that he wasn't kidding. He wasn't drunk, either. Even if he'd had more than a few drinks, he was sober and completely serious in his announced intentions.
"You picked the wrong girl. The wrong time of the month, too."
He slid down his boxer style undershorts. His genitals were already enlarged.
I have a daughter about your age, Martha. She just started having her periods, too. Her breasts are just beginning to form, the same as yours." He came toward me while he talked.
I moistened my dry lips, fighting the impulse to whirl and flee. "Why are you doing this?" I whispered.
Tom Hansen paused a foot away from me. He brought up his hands. He began unbuttoning my full-skirted wash dress.
"In case you don't know it, I've been paying the rent for this house, Martha. That entitles me to privileges. Since that sexy slut mother of yours decided to two-time me, you're her substitute."
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I stood helplessly, letting him undress me. He took off the unbuttoned dress and tossed it aside. Next, he peeled off my white slip, leaving me standing there wearing nothing but slightly soiled white undies.
I slowly stripped down the briefs before he attended to that final divestment for me. I sniffed back tears, awkwardly unpinning the sanitary belt and withdrawing the heavy white gauze pad from inside my vagina.
"There. Do what you want to me." My voice was low, toneless shame and despair.
"You weren't lying, were you? I'm sorry, Martha. You can get dressed again."
I raised my head and saw him turn away.
"Suppose I don't want to?" I hadn't realized I was speaking. Not until I saw Tom turn back to me. Lust glinted in his eyes. His penis was rock-hard, sticking straight out as if drawn to my naked loins.
He grabbed me. We bounced down on Mother's bed. He swarmed all over me, kissing my lips, my throat, the tips of my coral nipples, my navel, them my cunt. He groaned, giving in to the wild urges to perform cunnilingus.
It was the first time a man had made oral sex contacts with my vagina during my menstrual period. My flesh was extra tender and sensitive. I sobbed with joyous delight, experiencing flashing orgasms that came in such quick succession that I couldn't count them.
"Roll over on your tummy, Martha! Hurry up!"
"Ohh, no! I want it in where it belongs!"
With a smothered gasp of savage passion, Tom jumped on top of me so I could slip his big sex organ into my richly bubbling slit.
He drew back, then drove more deeply inside my cunt. His penetrating shaft of maleness thrilled me to another panting release before his ejaculation nearly caused me to swoon from sheer sublimity of sensations.
I was propped in my own bed, wearing freshly-laundered light blue pajamas and reading a magazine when Mother came home.
She slipped from her chic turquoise blue sui tdress, smiling in at me from the doorway. "You look very comfy and contented, Martha. It's getting late, though. Don't you think you should go to sleep?"
"I will, Momsy. In a minute." I watched her take off her dark blue slip. What a lovely picture she made, standing there in her nylon stocking, dark blue briefs and bra. Her golden hair was softly clustered in becoming ringlets, framing her beautiful face. "How old are you, Mon?"
She laughed, unfastening her stockings. "Not quite three times your age. Why?"
"Oh, I just wondered. Have you ever thought of getting married again?"
CHAPTER THREE
The backyard playhouse burned down the same summer Ralph Owens was arrested for striking one of the teachers at high school.
I was almost 15 then. The braces were off my teeth. My hair had finally made up its mind to be blonde, helped by the tinted permanent dye I'd applied. My breasts had bloomed to a generous size 38B and were still growing. I'd also acquired a full crop of tawny blonde pubic hair that hid my much-loved hole and seemed to add sex appeal to my appearance. I was still too tall and thin to have what would be considered a sexy build. But every month saw me putting on a pound or two in the right places.
Standing outside the back door of our rented bungalow, I watched the fire engine drive away. I stared at the scorched, blackened smoldering pile of debris that had been a playhouse in the adjacent yard.
Bobby Flath was over there, poking around with a hoe. A number of colored women were clustered nearby, clucking and shaking their heads.
Jeannie Patterson walked over to me. We stood together, staring at the smoking mess.
"I saw who did it," Jeannie said after a few minutes. She looked at me. "It was Don Buelow. Him and Joe Evans. They tossed in a fire bomb, then ran back to their car and zipped out of here before anyone saw the fire."
"Aren't you going to tell the police?"
Jeannie glanced at the pair of uniformed men questioning some of the neighbors. She slowly shook her head. "No. I don't want any more trouble."
They let Ralph out of jail at the end of the week. He was on a year's probation. He'd been warned that one more violent incident would send him to the Green Bay Reformatory.
We went inside his house Saturday morning after his family left to do the weekend shopping. My mother was working at her office job, getting overtime pay for the extra hours she had been asked to put in.
Ralph led me to his room. We both started to undress. He was over 6 feet tall and weighed around 180 pounds. He was 18. He expected to be drafted any day. The teacher he'd fought with during summer school was one of those peace and non-violence advocates, a thin, balding young fop named Cyril Niles. The reason Ralph had hit him was because Mr. Niles had sneered about civil rights, saying all the Negroes really wanted was free handouts so they wouldn't have to work for a living.
While I took off my bra and panties, I told Ralph who had been seen running away from the playhouse after tossing in a fire bomb.
His good-looking young features became tense with anger. His big hands bunched into hard fists. "Damn 'em! I guessed that's who did it! I'll fix 'em! I'll get even before the army grabs me!"
I walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. I let my knees swing apart. "Ralph. Look what's over here waiting for you," I quietly reminded him.
The terse rage drained from his dark young face. His hands relaxed at his sides, then moved to take off his undershorts. His genitals were as huge and fascinating to me as ever. I felt a tingle of aroused anticipation, watching him stalk toward me.
Ralph knelt between my parted ivory thighs. His fingertips gently touched the entrance to my vagina. "It's been a while, Martha." His low voice was hoarse with suppressed lust. He looked at the pearly pink folds of feminine flesh his prying fingers were readying.
A moan of pleased enjoyment left my lips. I closed my eyes, sinking into sensual sensation, shutting out every other thought and emotion but the awareness of sexual wanting.
"Too long. Much too long," I whispered. "You aren't just going to look at it, are you?"
His mouth provided the searing answer. His lips grazed roughly along the channel of my soft white inner thigh until his kisses were raining amid my cunt. He nuzzled and rubbed his face against my pubic bush. His lips and tongue drilled through the tangle of hair to flick wildly at my slit. My clitoris throbbed as his oral contacts delved deeper inside my cunt.
He continued lapping at my loins for about 20 minutes. I went off at least four times, panting in joyous release, pleading for more.
Ralph pulled us down on his bed and stuck his penis into my vagina. He pumped to near-orgasm. Just before he went off, we squirmed around so he could jam his sex shaft into my rectum. We heaved around on the mattress, fording his prick as far inside my rear hole as we could manage. As he ejaculated, I experienced another climax.
"That's-all I can do for you, baby!" Ralph thickly muttered, his breathing labored, his face and dark brown body drenched with sweat. "Whew! Whatta workout!"
I pouted, hefting at my neglected breasts. "What about these things? You didn't even play with them. What's the matter? Aren't they worth bothering with?"
Ralph gave a sigh, saying, "I'm sorry Martha. Sure. I want to suck them. Just give me a couple minutes, okay?"
I got up from the bed. I padded through his house to the telephone on a step table in the living room. I called Bobby Flath. He answered on the third ring. He said he was home alone, too. I told him to come right over. Then, I phoned Jeannie Patterson.
She agreed to come over, too.
Ralph was sucking at my breasts when Jeannie strolled into the bedroom. She flashed us a smile, reaching for her pullover pale yellow blouse.
"You getting my milk from her, Ralphie?" she softly teased. She wore no brassiere. Her light brown boobs were tipped by tremendous pink nipples. She skimmed down her slacks. She wasn't wearing briefs, either. Her dusky crotch was crowded with wiry black pubic hair.
Ralph grunted, burrowing at my pulsating breast. He was getting plenty of milk. More than his mouth could handle. Some of the creamy fluid trickled down his chin as he jerked at my other gushing coral nipple.
Bobby Flath mos-eyed in just as Jeannie got down on the bed with us. He grinned, shucking his denim pants and white T-shirt. Jeannie had seized Ralph's limp sex organ. She began performing moaning fellatio upon him. Bobby reached for me as Ralph flopped wearily back on the rumpled bedcovers.
"Lemme at those gorgeous boobs," he eagerly growled. "Ummm! uhh, mmm! Geez, such sweet, juicy tits! Martha, you're gonna get milked dry today, honey! Umm, uhh, umm!"
I gazed up at the curving lines of Jeannie's backside. Acting on impulse, I ran my palms over her fetching rump. Her skin was velvet warmth. She shifted around in her hands and knees position so that her naked snatch brushed down over my face. I raised my head, making more pronounced oral sex contact with her. My mouth tasted the torrid depths of her enlarged vagina. Jeannie gasped in the midst of fellatio, going off in response to my oral masturbation activities.
Bobby pulled and bunched at my surging breasts, his greedy sucks swiftly emptying my boobs of their supply of milk.
"Ooh, keep sucking!" I murmured, my voice smothered against the older Negro girl's bubbling wealth of sex flesh.
Ralph had revived enough so he could grasp Jeannie's swaying set of breasts. He started sucking at one of her big, taut ruby nipples. She went off again and again, finally collapsing on top of me from sheer exhausted rapture.
Bobby rolled her off me so he could drop down in the 69 position. Has penis was smaller than Ralph's but his staying power was better. We commenced mutual oral masturbation intimacies. He knew how to bring me to quick orgasms by flicking his tongue lightly against my clitoris. Then, as I was going off, he would stab a trio of fingers as far inside my vagina as he could reach. My quivering flesh swirled in convulsive clutchings at his inserted fingers. His other hand was buried in the crack of my backside. Every so often, he would start slipping his fingers slowly in and out of my rectal hole, too.
Jeannie tried to get Ralph sufficiently aroused so he could fuck her. She buffeted his face with her dangling pair of boobs. She steered his hand into her pussy, pushing his fingers into her hole.
"Come on. Ralphie! Get this yummy pecker of yours hard!" she begged. Her hands rubbed urgently over his semi-rigid penis. Eventually, he was able to straddle her and cram his lubricating sex shaft partially inside her gaping pink cunt. He went off after making only a few half-hearted thrusts.
Bobby yanked his stubby penis from my mouth. He vaulted aboard, ramming it home inside my hugging cunt. I had an orgasm an instant before I felt his spurting ejaculation.
It was approaching noon by the time we got freshened up and dressed. Jeannie and Bobby left first, hurrying across the back lawns.
Ralph walked to the rear screen door with me. He pulled me in for a long kiss, his hands caressing the curves of my buttocks through my skirt.
"You ain't loved out yet, are you, Martha?"
"No. I could do with some more."
"I'm sorry I couldn't do no better. You aren't mad at me, are you?"
"Of course not. You were good, Ralph. You did your best."
He reluctantly released me. His dark brown eyes searched my face. "You gonna write to me when I'm in the army?"
"Sure. If you want me to."
"I want you to. Chances are, they'll ship me to Viet Nam as quick as they can. Us black boys make good cannon fodder."
"Maybe, they won't."
"Yeah, they will. I don't care, What bothers me is that white pukes like Joe Evans and Don Buelow can beat the draft by going on to college. In four years when the army does call 'em up, the fighting will most likely be over."
I put my hand on his arm. "They shouldn't have burned down our playhouse, Ralph. That was just plain mean and spiteful. I'd like to help you get even for what they did."
"Maybe, you can. Get'm to come into this neighborhood, Martha. Tonight. Bobby and me will be laying for 'em. We'll use tire chains. We won't kill 'em but they won't ever be down here wreching things again."
I nodded, stretching up to kiss him. "I'll have them here at ten o'clock. I don't know just how I'll manage it but I will."
That afternoon, I waited for the substitute mailman to reach our house. He was a tall, tanned guy in his early thirties. He was always at least an hour earlier on Saturdays than the older, regular postman was during the week.
His name was Bill. He was married with two kids. He liked wearing the postal uniform and it looked good on his husky frame. He smiled at me in surprised appreciation when I came out to take the assortment of bills, circulars and magazines and to invite him in for a glass of cold lemonade.
"I just stirred up a batch," I added, opening the front screen door so he could amble in ahead of me.
He slipped off the heavy leather mail pouch, placing it on the floor in the corner of the front hallway. "I was hoping some kind soul would offer me something cool to drink," he said. "That sun is really sizzling this afternoon, isn't it, Martha?"
I went into the kitchen ahead of him. After pouring from the pitcher containing ice cubes and lemonade, filling both water tumblers, I smiled up at Bill, saying, "Let's drink these in my room. Come on."
Again, he followed me.
He took a sip of his drink while he watched me unzip my dress. His eyes took in the bra-encased contours of my breasts. "How long before your mother will be home?"
"Not for a couple hours, yet." I stepped from the dress, tossing it across the chair. I reached around for the clasp of my white brassiere. He was interested. He came over to put down his glass beside mine on top of the walnut bureau.
"I wonder what you'd do if I grabbed for those nice young boobs? Slap me? Scream?"
I laughed, lazily peeling the cups away from my nude curves. "Go ahead and grab. Why do you think I brought you in here?"
Bill chuckled, casually covering my breasts with both of his big hands. I felt my nipples spring taut against his fondling palms.
"Suppose I get a hard on," he mused. "What would we do about that, baby?"
"Whatever you felt like doing."
He tightened his caressing fingers over my boobs. I moaned, knowing traces of milk were already issuing from those puckered pink tips.
"You're really built for it," Bill muttered. He bent his head to taste at one nipple. His teeth nipped and nibbled at my pulsating orb of flesh, increasing the flow of creamy substance. "Umm. yum, mmm!"
I unzipped his gray-blue uniform slacks and reached in to encompass his genitals. His penis was only average-sized, much to my disappointment.
He groaned, hitching his fingertips inside the elastic waistband of my filmy white briefs. He skimmed them down my naked hips. I stepped from them. We locked in a swaying sexual embrace, necking with feverish abandon.
As I sprawled on my bed, Bill stripped and dived down beside me. He finger-fucked me to orgasm before daring to do what he really wanted. At his initial oral sex contacts, I sobbed in renewed excitement and went off again. The longer and lustier his cunnilingus efforts became, the more I craved. I wrapped my legs around him, holding him in so he had to keep kissing and licking at my insatiable snatch. I panted in frenzied supplication, urging him to increase his tonguing, lapping sex liberties.
Flinging my legs as far apart as I could, I cried out in joyous ecstasy when Bill almost crawled inside my throbbing vagina. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. either. After more than an hour of oral masturbation, he climbed shakily astride me, sinking his well-lubricated sex shaft into my cunt. We bucked and bounced together in passionate abandon. He went off with spurting profusion that stimulated my innermost flesh. My orgasm came immediately after his and I squeezed my outstretched legs together, trapping his inserted male organ, holding it in despite its shriveling shrinkage.
Bill wanted to nurse for a while longer at my boobs. I merely relaxed and let him. He sucked both nipples dry. Then, he wanted to look me over. He had me roll onto my tummy. His hands pried at the sides of my nude buttocks, widening the hole to my rectum. He thrust in with his rigid thumb, groaning in relish.
"Ohh, doll! Would I ever love to stick my prick inside this cute little crack!"
"Well, who's stopping you?" I tartly challenged, smiling up and around at him where he knelt astraddle me.
After perhaps fifteen minutes of fooling around, brushing his limp penis back and forth along the crevice of my backside, he managed to make it hard enough to push in cautiously inside my rectum. He began shoving back and forth, groaning in aroused pleasure.
I'd never cared much for anal intercourse. Today, though, his penis felt just right. The longer he rubbed it in and almost out of my hole, the hotter I became. He grunted, jerking violently against me, ejaculating with thudding vigor. I was surprised and extremely gratified when I had an orgasm, too.
He finger-fucked me for another three quick climaxes before he grudgingly got up and got dressed. "I'll be back for more next Saturday," he said.
I walked back through the house with him. It was almost 5:00 P.M.
"My mother may not have to work next Saturday, Bill. If she does, I'll come out to get our mail and I'll invite you in for more lemonade."
"Good deal. Although I wouldn't mind laying her, too. She looks like she could put out a damn nice piece."
My smile faded. "Don't talk about her like that."
Bill chuckled, playfully ruffling my shock of disheveled golden blonde hair. "Ahh, don't be jealous, Martha. Hell, I'd take you any day. I was only kidding."
"Well, don't kid about my mother, that's all."
He picked up the mail pouch, slinging it across his shoulder. "I've got to get rolling. I'm way behind schedule. It will take at least another hour for me to finish the route. I'll see you, baby. Save me some for next Saturday, okay?"
"I've got more than you or any dozen other guys can handle."
Bill laughed again, opening the front screen door. "That's no lie. Ohh, my aching balls! See you, sweetie!"
I stood in the doorway, watching him like briskly about the shadowy neighborhood. After he'd disappeared around the next corner, I went into the bathroom and had an unhurried bath. I was dressed with my blonde hair neatly brushed by the time mother came home.
"Where are you going tonight?" she called after me early that evening when we'd finished the dishes and I was leaving the house.
"Oh, to the movies, I guess."
"Alone?"
"No. With Joe Evans and Don Buelow."
"Who is the other girl?"
"There won't be another girl, Mon. Just the three of us. I told them I'd meet them in front of the theatre."
She came to the door and seriously regarded me where I was standing on the darkened stretch of sidewalk leading out to the deserted suburban street.
"You aren't letting them get too fresh with you, are you, Martha?"
I smiled at her, shaking my head. "There's safety in numbers, Mon. Neither one of them even tries any smooching. It would be different if I went to the show with just one of them but this way, neither of them has the nerve to make a pass."
She laughed. "Well, that's fine as long as it works.
Who buys your ticket? Or do they split the expense?"
"Nope. Joe pays for my ticket and Don buys the popcorn, candy and soft drinks. It's a neat system if I do say so, myself!"
"Have fun, dear! What time will you be home? I might be out until around midnight. If I'm gone, the key will be in its usual place."
Which was on the ledge above the door. I smiled and nodded and said, "Okay, Mom. You have a good time, too." I nearly asked her who she was dating but lately she'd been touchy on such subjects.
Don and Joe were sitting in Don's convertible parked across the street from the theatre when I alighted from the Madison city bus. We entered the lobby and bought some refreshments before we went in and sat down. The main feature started about five minutes after we arrived. It was one of those super-westerns with an all-star cast of all men. Not even a dance hall babe was included.
So Don neglected me completely, munching on his popcorn, eating up the gunplay and violent fist fights. Joe alternated between necking and petting me and watching the technicolor action on the screen. He had an erection when I unzipped his slacks and mischievously massaged his genitals. I used my hankie to wrap around his upright penis. I masturbated him to orgasm while he was driving a pair of fingers steadily in and out of my vagina.
We left the theatre a few minutes before 10:00 P. M. I asked the boys to swing by my house so I could pick up a sweater. Afterwards, I promised to let them drive me out on a country side road. Don cruised along the empty streets leading to the mixed neighborhood. As a precaution, he'd switched off the headlights. He had his C02 gas pellet pistol laid out on top of the dashboard.
"I'll go in with you," Joe said.
Don grabbed his buddy's arm. "No. Stay with me. Martha, hurry up and get your sweater. I'll keep the motor running, just in case any jigs spot us."
I hurried toward the house.
Even as I reached the cement platform at the front entrance, I heard yells and the harsh sounds of shattered glass. I whirled and saw Ralph Owens pulling Don Buelow out from behind the wheel of Don's convertible. Bobby Flath had swung a heavy set of tire chains at Joe Evans but had smashed the windshield as Joe ducked, jumping out of the car.
I turned away, not wanting to witness the brutal spectacle.
When it was all over, the two white youths were on the grass at the edge of the street. Their clothes were badly ripped and soaked with blood. The convertible was a wreck with the headlights smashed, all four tires slashed and the padded leather interior savagely cut and torn.
Ralph and Bobby came up to me. Both Negro youths were breathing hard and splattered with the other boys' blood. Ralph flashed his white teeth at me in a self-satisfied grin.
"They ain't gonna toss no more fire-bombs down here, baby. Not with their arms busted."
I gave a shuddering gasp. "Oh! You may have killed them!"
Bobby sniggered, sauntering closer to me. "Now, they ain't hurt bad as they look, baby." He dropped the bloodied length of tire chain and wiped his gore-stained black hands on the sides of his denim pants. Then, he reached out and casually gave a jerk at the bodice of my dress, ripping the fabric down from my shoulders and breasts. "There. Now you look like you've been roughed up, too."
"Not yet, she don't. Not good enough, anyhow," Ralph muttered. He dropped his piece of chain. Without warning, his fist crunched into my mouth, knocking me against the front door. I sagged down on the concrete platform, dazed, swallowing the warm stickiness of my blood.
Ralph reached down and seized the revealed cups of my brassiere. He tore the bra off my breasts and flung it aside. Next, he grabbed roughly for my crotch and ripped off my white panties.
I moaned and whimpered, making no effort to resist as both youths dragged me across the grass. They stretched me out near where Don and Joe were lying.
"I'll wing it in to her first," I dimly heard Bobby say. He towered above me, taking his time. He opened his pants and dropped them along with his undershorts. His penis wasn't fully erected yet. Not until he'd crouched, rubbing the circumcised tip of his sex organ along the slit of my vagina. After making penetration, he proceeded to rape me, ignoring my sobs of shamed suffering.
Ralph stood beside us. He waited for his buddy to finish with me. As Bobby laughed, arising with his penis depleted and my loins filled with his hot sperm, Ralph squeezed harshly at both of my naked breasts.
"We've gotta make this look right, Martha," he patiently explained. "Now, roll over on your belly." When I failed to obey, he merely dug his hands beneath me and flipped my semi-nude form over in the damp, dark grass.
I screamed as the length of, tire chain whipped cruelly at my exposed buttocks. Twice, three times the heavy steel chain bit viciously into my flesh.
The police found us like that.
The powerful beam of the police spotlight stabbed through the blackness and picked up the pair of Negro youths standing above me.
"Take off!" Ralph shouted, already running.
Joe Evans reached feebly up and grabbed for his attacker's ankles, bringing Bobby Flath down in a hard fall.
"Stop! Stop or I'll shoot!" One of the police officers fired a warning shot.
Ralph spotted the other police prowl car blocking the street in the direction he was running. He whirled, charging back toward the pair of uniformed men who had already subdued Bobby. "I'll cut you cruds to pieces!" There was a switchblade knife in his hand, poised for a lethal plunge as he rushed at one of the officers.
The policeman who had handcuffed Bobby gave a grunt of anguished surprise as the long blade of the knife sliced into his stomach. He doubled over but kept his hold on Bobby, dragging the colored youth down with him as he collapsed in the street.
Ralph's big young body twitched and jerked as the other cop emptied his service revolver.
The inquest held later disclosed that every one of the bullets had hit a vital organ and could have caused Ralph's death without another shot being necessary.
Bobby Flath was sentenced to up to 5 years, being first sent to the state reformatory with the provision that upon becoming 18 he would be transferred to the Waupun State Prison.
Joe Evans and Don Buelow were drafted into the army a few months after that horrible ambush. Both boys had decided to get their military obligations over with before thinking about going on to college.
As for me, no one blamed me for what I'd done.
Mother found us an apartment in a better section of Madison and we moved before the start of the school year. I was a sophomore, then. At a different high school. It was like being allowed to start life all over. New surroundings, new acquaintances. I guess the only thing that hadn't changed was me.
CHAPTER FOUR
The three of us were in Esther Talbot's bedroom one wintly November night. Gail Sommers lit another cigarette, propped across the width of the mattress with her English textbook open.
"Did you hear about Nancy Krueger and Dave Barlow?" Esther asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor where the light directed from the table lamp with the tilted shade fell across her shoulder on her open school book.
I shook my head. So did Gail.
Esther smiled with one possessing superior knowledge. "They were caught fucking on the sofa last night," she smugly informed us. "It seems Nancy's folks suspected something was going on. They told her they were going to a concert. They drove off and she phoned Dave to tell him the coast was clear. He came over and they got to screwing. They were right in the middle of rapping off a hot, juicy piece when in storms her parents."
Gail made sympathetic clucking sounds, saying, "That's darned sneaky! If my folks ever tried to pull a stunt like that on me, I'd leave home."
We were all in our baby doll pajamas. Cramming for the final exams. It seemed hard to believe I was that close to graduating from high school. I'd been very careful those last two years. All of the secret sex sorties I'd enjoyed had been shared with boys from other schools and a few older married males I knew wouldn't go around bragging about our intimacies.
"Nancy should have know better than to let herself get caught like that," I said. "Frankly, I can't understand what she sees in a pudgy, moon-faced ick like Dave Barlow, anyway."
Esther yawned, stretching up with both arms rising high above her pretty red-haired head. She had small, sharply-pointed breasts that became nicely out-lined against the top of her light green p.j.s.
"A girl can't always be so choosy," she said. "After all, Nancy isn't a raving beauty, either. Besides, Dave will have a good future as a C.P.A."
"When and if he ever finishes college," Gail put in. She closed her book. Rolling over, she snubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside stand. "Will I be glad when we get these damn semester exams over!"
"We need some relaxation before we call it a night," I said. I was flopped comfortably across the double mattress at the foot of the bed. Shutting my workbook, I swung lazily up into a sitting position. "Anyone want to take a nice, warm bath with me?"
Gail and Esther exchanged swift, searching looks.
Both of them had been trying to feel me out on my sexual attitudes. They had been practicing discreet lesbianism sex rituals for months.
Gail smiled, rising from the bed. "I'll run the water for us. There's room for all three of us in the tub."
Esther waited for her dark-haired girlfriend to leave the room. Then, she got up from the floor and walked over to me. Her eyes went over the front of my sheer silken blue baby doll outfit
"You've been fucked by boys, haven't you, Martha?"
I smiled up at her "Sure. Lots of times. You haven't, though, have you, Esther?"
"No. I've always been too scared."
"Want me to line you up on a double date?"
She stared anxiously at me. "I don't know...."
"You'll like it. It doesn't hurt. If you're worried about getting pregnant, don't. I've got plenty of those new birth control pills. I take 'm regularly."
Esther moistened her lush red lips, slowly murmuring, "Well, I know it can't be too bad. Nancy says having a boy's penis shoved in a girl's cunt feels lots better than having girls do it to each other with their fingers or with those hard rubber dog bones we've been using."
"I'll fix you up with a nice guy. Someone older would be best. Besides, they pay. I can get you an easy ten bucks. Just say the word, Esther."
She drew an excited breath, then quickly blurted out, "Okay! I'll try it, Martha. If you're sure I'll like it."
I leaned forward so I could reach up and slip my hands under her pajama top. My fingers furled over the taut conical proportions of her warm, tapering breasts.
"I'm sure. You will," I assured her. My hands began gently kneading at her sensitive boobs. I saw her cheeks flush with aroused enjoyment and her sensual young lips soften in approving sensation.
We joined Gail in the connecting bathroom. We stripped from our pajamas. I looked first at Esther. Her pubic thatch was dark reddish brown. Her nipples were small but nicely erected. She managed a sky, uncertain smile, staring at my much larger breasts, then down at my tawny abundance of pubic hair.
Gail had short dark brown hair cut in mannish style. Her breasts were even bigger than mine, though. Her pussy was darkly enticing in contrast to the creamy softness of her naked hips and thighs.
We climbed into the bathtub and settled in the sudsy fragrance of the bath water. I began soaping at Esther's boobs while Gail rubbed the washcloth over my spherical endowments.
Esther picked up courage. She took her bar of soap and boldly pushed it between my legs. She ran the slippery oval soap bar up and down my crotch with increasing daring. She began breathing faster.
Gail was getting excited, too. The more she rubbed and squeezed at my breasts, the hotter she got.
At last, she yielded to erotic impulse and suddenly slammed her mouth down over one of my nipples.
"Ohh, umm, mmm!" she gasped, sucking violently.
I moaned in low delight, feeling the milk being so ardently drawn from my rosily-puckered orifice. I bent forward to fit my mouth over one of Esther's quivering nipples.
By the time we'd dried each other after the bath and hurried back into Esther's bedroom, there weren't any inhibitions left to prevent us from sharing our passions.
Gail took out a red rubber dog bone from her clutch purse. She joined us on the bed, smiling down at my widely-revealed vagina. "You'll enjoy this, Martha!" she whispered, her brown eyes brimming with lust.
I watched her insert the artificial dildo to my cunt. I was already sliding a trio of searching fingers swiftly in and out of Esther's hole. Esther was panting and writhing on the mattress, straining to attain the orgasm my thrusts promised.
"Bring down one of your beautiful boobs for me to taste!" I urged. Gail squirmed around so she could comply. I applied my mouth to her nearest huge coral nipple. Milk spurted from her flaring pink tip almost before I'd really begun to start sucking at it.
When Esther went off, I temporarily abandoned her vagina. I sank both hands into Gail's loins, prying and probing to stimulate her innermost flesh. The hard rubber implement she kept vigorously ramming back and forth inside my vagina was getting the job done, too.
Gail and I went off simultaneously. While she flopped back to relax and enjoy the shimmering sensations welling from her gratified cunt, I turned back to Esther.
I pressed my face amid her crop of dark red pubic bush, burrowing through her hair to seek out the pouting pink slit that led to her vagina.
"Oh, no! Don't do that, Martha!" Esther weakly cried out. But then as my searching mouth located its target and tasted of her hotly-flowing femininity, she moaned in startled ecstasy, falling back and flinging her upraised legs even more widely apart. I continued slow, coaxing cunnilingus until I heard Esther gasp and sob in joyous release. Then, I redoubled my kissing, sucking, tonguing partakings. She went off again and again, arching her naked backside, pushing down with her hands at the back of my head to force my face into even greater oral sex contacts with her clamoring young cunt.
Gail fell upon me from behind. She wriggled in so she could begin to lap at my loins while I was on my hands and knees, still sipping at the torrid sweetness her girlfriend provided.
I had one scorching orgasm, then another and another as Gail really got inspired.
Esther insisted on trying cunnilingus on me after about twenty minutes. So I did it to Gail while Esther awkwardly buried her face between my thighs and tried her initial experiment with that phase of contrived sex pleasures. She wasn't able to bring me to a climax. So as I kept getting Gail to go off a half-dozen times in rapid succession, Esther picked up the rubber dildo and used it to get far back inside my hole where her darting tongue hadn't reached.
We kept sucking each other's breasts and indulging in both manual and oral masturbation marathons until our boobs were swollen and sore and our cunts were chafed and pleasurably numbed.
The next day at school, I hung back after class to talk with Mr. Ron Dorrance, our English instructor.
"Does that friend of your still want to double-date with us tonight, Ron?" I asked, keeping my voice low and my face respectful and serious so if anyone was observing us, they would think I was discussing school business.
Ron frowned, shaking his head, his good-looking, bespectacled features dubious. "Yes. Have you found another girl?"
"Esther Talbot. But it will cost your friend thirty bucks."
"That's all right. Money is no problem for him. Where shall we meet and at what time, Martha?"
"My apartment. Eight o'clock." Since my mother would be leaving on her date at 7:30 P.M., I figured that time should be about right.
Esther wore a becoming jade green shift when she arrived at my apartment shortly after 7:30 P.M. Her dark red hair was neatly brushed, framing her scared, pretty face.
"Why won't you tell me their names?" she plaintively persisted, nervously pacing the living room carpeting. She whirled to fix me with an accusing glare. "Are you afraid I'd chicken out if I knew who was coming?"
I sighed, walking over to her. I put my hands on her terse shoulders. "Relax, will you? Both of these guys are married. They won't talk about what happens up here tonight. One of them is Ron Dorrance. The other man is a friend of his named Bruce Mackley. Bruce is in the construction business."
Esther's troubled green eyes had widened at mention of our English teacher. She jumped back, pulling away from me.
"Are you crazy? I don't want Mr. Dorrance to find me here!"
"Oh, settle down, will you?" I wearily commanded. I glanced at my wristwatch. It was two minutes lacking of 8:00 P.M. "Ron and I have been fucking for almost a month, now. His wife just had another baby so she can't keep him satisfied for a while. Why do you think I've been getting such good grades? Not because I've studied those dreary chapters on nouns, prepositions and syntax, that's for sure!"
Esther gave a highly nervous start at the sound of the apartment door chimes. She looked as if she wanted to dive out of the 3rd floor window. I didn't give her further opportunity to succumb to the jitters. I walked to the door and opened it.
Bruce Mackley was the biggest guy I'd ever seen! He stood at least 6'2" and must have weighed close to 220 pounds. He wasn't bad-looking, though. Probably in his late thirties with thick black hair and heavy eyebrows.
Ron Dorrance pressed money into my hand as they stepped inside the apartment. His gaze went over me from tip to toe. "Which bedroom will we use?" he quietly queried.
Esther stood rigidly in the center of the softly lighted living room. She regarded both men the way a petrified prey looks at a coiled rattlesnake.
I tucked my hands through the arms of both males, walking us toward Esther. "Esther, Ron and I are going into this bedroom," I explained, relinquishing my hold on Bruce Mackley so I could indicate my Mother's boudoir. "Why don't you and Bruce get cozy in my room?"
Bruce grinned, stepping in to slip his big arm around Esther's shoulders. Leading her toward the doorway I'd suggested, he amiably drawled, "Loosen up, Esther, honey. I won't hurt you. This is your first time with a man, eh?"
"Y-yes. I-I've never done anything like this before," Esther pitifully stammered, flashing back a fearful glance at me. Then, she and her husky sex partner disappeared inside my bedroom and the door closed after them.
Ron chuckled as we entered the other bedroom and I swept up the wall switch that turned on the bulbs of the twin vanity lamps.
"Old Bruce may break down that bed of yours once he starts bouncing up and down on Esther."
I smiled, stepping from my pleated brown skirt. "She can take it. Once she gets over being scared."
"Has she ever seen a man's full-grown cock?"
"I doubt it."
"That's good. Because Bruce has a pole twice the size of this one," Ron said, skimming down his undershorts.
I looked at the semi-erected bigness of his penis. He had about 7 inches of tubular maleness to give a girl. I shook my 'head, smiling in disbelief as I sat down on the edge of the mattress.
"That doesn't seem possible. Oh, well, I'D settle for yours."
"You might have to pinch hit for her later. If she can't take a second helping." Ron sauntered over and hefted at my bared breasts. He leaned down and kissed each nipple. Kneeling between my legs, he moved casually in to commence cunnilingus. "Mmm, you smell fresh and extra-sexy tonight, Martha. Raise up so I can get my hands under that lovely hinder while I enjoy the honey from your hole."
I lifted my nude backside from the bed long enough for him to get cozily positioned. His fingers crept firmly into the satiny furrow of my buttocks and inched easily to the hole of my rectum. His lips and tongue moved unhurriedly over my cunt.
I braced my palms on both sides of me, giving in to the rising rush of sensual awareness prompted by his practiced oral sex liberties. "Ooh, you're making me come, already!" I softly praised. My loins shivered with delicious sensations. I enjoyed one swift orgasm after another and Ron wasn't even in high gear, yet!
He employed cunnilingus steadily for about half an hour. Rising from between my ivory thighs, he hauled us down on the mattress and we assumed the 69 position. I moaned, receiving his penis for fellatio. He began to bear down at his oral explorations of my throbbing vagina. He ticked and teased with his tongue at my clitoris. His hands rubbed urgently along the crack of my backside. He switched to thrusting his thumb in and out of my rectum while he sucked and lapped furiously at my cunt. Naturally, I eagerly reciprocated, my mouth working passionately at his enlarged prick.
"Now, I'm going to shove it in," Ron breathlessly growled, pushing up so he could swing around and sink down on top of me in the traditional pose for coitus. His enthused sex organ pulsated with brimming lubrications as he jammed it deep within my cunt.
I opened my eyes to look up at him. His dark hair was rumpled and beads of lustful perspiration dotted his nice-looking features.
"Mmm, you can go off any time!" I murmured. "My hole is getting dry, Ron. It needs a yummy jolt of your juice!"
He grinned down at me. He lowered his head so his teeth could nip lovingly at each of my tingling nipples. "How's it feel when I dig deep inside this cute ass-hole of yours while I keep fucking away?" he wanted to know.
I moaned, arching up and wriggling my hips in challenging provocations. "Ooh, like I'm being turned inside out! But how I love it!"
Ron groaned, picking up the pumping tempo. He ejaculated generously a minute later, bombarding my innermost femininity with pleasing wetness. He sank heavily on top of me so that all of his hard breathing weight rested on me. His mouth sucked avidly at one breast, extracting warm squirts of creamy secretion. He sipped that nipple empty and ravenously started sucking the other firm, puckered pink tip.
I held on to him when he would have arisen from the bed after emptying my boobs of their rich, tart substance. I kept running my fingertips over his genitals, restoring his penis to rigidity in record time.
"Which way do you want it, front or back this time?" Ron happily muttered.
In answer, I got up on my hands and knees, turning so my nude buttocks faced his stiffened sex organ. He chuckled, crowding in for anal intercourse. His penis poked at my smaller rectal hole.
"Uhh, umm! I think it's-finally going in," I gasped. One of his hands crept into my crotch and toyed with my blonde mass of wiry pubic hair. He pressed harder against my buttocks, drilling his big sex shaft along the velvety tunnel of my rectum. "Ohh, ummm! There! That's what I call a-tight fit!" I said. I began undulating my hips and flanks so as to have his penetrating penis brush at every quivering fibre of my sensitive inner flesh.
Ron groaned and gasped, flinging himself wildly against my braced backside. He gouged with both hands at my crotch, digging his fingertips into my bubbling vagina as he pumped at our anal intercourse.
"Ohh, it's coming-now, doll! Uhh, ugh, umm!"
I reveled in the thudding pelts of his orgasm. My loins caught fire again and I sobbed in erotic fulfillment.
That was all the hurricane sex Ron was capable of for at least a little while. He remained on the bed while I used the bathroom. He'd fallen asleep when I returned.
So I decided to sneak in for a look at the action in my bedroom. I eased open the door and glanced inside.
Esther was being held upside down by her ankles.
Bruce Mackley has his face crammed within her separated thighs. He was wolfishly lapping at her fully-exposed cunt.
I saw that Esther wasn't even conscious to enjoy his unique of cunnilingus. Her dark red hair was tumbled across her lax young features. She made weak, whimpering noises through pain-distorted lips. Her eyes were closed. Her small, sharply pointed boobs bore reddish imprints of mauling hands. Traces of milk still dotted her ruby nipples.
I stepped inside the room and pressed the door shut with my naked rear.
Bruce glanced up from his lustful atrocities. He grinned, carefully lowering Esther's upended chassis, stretching her out on the bedroom floor. As he straightened, I saw the super-sized proportions of his unclad genitals.
"She passed out even before I had my prick all the way in," he mildly explained.
I kept staring at his brandished prick. Ron hadn't been exaggerating! That rigid shaft of male sex flesh was at least a foot long and two inches in bristling diameter!
I walked over to the bed and got down on it. I drew up my legs and reached down with my fingertips to widen the entrance to my cunt.
Bruce gave a low, savoring whistle of appreciation as he came over and peered down at my tawny loins. "Hey, that's more like it! You've got a big, sweet-looking hole there, Martha!"
"Let's see how we fit," I coyly suggested.
He didn't have to be invited twice!
His immense dick stabbed slowly inside my vagina. I winced, fighting back a pained outcry as he kept descending. It felt as if he'd never touch bottom!
He abruptly groaned, freezing in the process of pushing it in the rest of the way. "Oh, no! Not yet!" he muttered. "Ohh, dammit! I can't help it!"
His premature ejaculation flooded my quivering depths. I had an orgasm despite the briefness of the coital contact.
As he climbed off me with a grace that belied his massive bulk, I flashed him a forgiving smile, saying, "That's okay, Bruce. I'll freshen up and come back so we can start all over. We've plenty of time. My Mom won't be home for at least another two hours."
He lumbered after me as I headed for the bathroom. He insisted on taking the warm, sudsy washcloth and applying it inside my cunt. He did a careful, tender job of cleaning, pausing occasionally to suck at my replenished boobs.
We went back to the bedroom. Esther was still out cold on the floor. We stepped over her and got down on the bed. I played with his husky cock while he resumed sucking at my breasts, finally emptying them again. I retained my fondling grasp on his genitals as he shifted around so he could begin doing cunnilingus to my freshly-bathed vagina.
"Wow! You must've gone off-a dozen times, baby!" Bruce shakily mumbled when he came up for air. I laughed, flipping up my nude backside.
"You aren't quitting already, are you?" I gaily teased.
He started kissing my inner thighs and brushing his beard stubble back and forth along my tender white skin. His mouth closed over my crack with mauling gusto.
I steered his huge sex organ up for fellatio. It was all I could to do encompass it with my mouth! Bruce paused in his searing oral sex liberties, groaning with aroused realization to what I was doing.
"Ohh, doll! Geez, that's terrific, baby! Umm, uhh, mmm! Lemme stick it in, now!"
He vaulted astride me. His penis filled my feminine aperture. I panted in passionate sex frenzy, flinging up my buttocks, wrapping my bare legs around his plunging broad back.
"Ooh, that's it!" I sobbed. My cunt became bathed in spasms of searing gratification. I lost count of the succession of swirling orgasms I had.
Bruce went off with an overwhelming flurry of release that gushed in wet, spewing surplus from our locked loins.
Ron came in and stood above the prostrate young redhead who was just regaining consciousness. He squatted down to take her in his arms. He started necking Esther as her long, dark lashes fluttered open.
She grabbed at our handsome English instructor. She returned his amorous barrage of french-kisses. As his hands bunched at her pert breasts, she sagged in his embrace and went limp.
Ron spread her legs and sank his hardened penis inside her readied cunt. "Ahh, umm! Man, this is a hot, hugging little hole!" he hoarsely declared.
Esther's eyes opened again. A slow smile of sensual confidence had replaced her frightened look. "Ooh, ohh, umm! Sock it to me, teach! Ohh, does that probing prick of yours feel good in my crack!"
They were still feverishly fucking when Bruce and I returned from the bathroom and stood watching the thrusting gyrations.
Bruce picked me up, his huge hands gripped around my naked hips. He lifted me high in the air so I had to duck to keep my tousled blonde head from bumping the ceiling. He lowered me so his grinning face was centered below squirming loins. He started licking at me while he held me up.
I laughed, saying, "Ohh, brother! Here I go again!" My hole fluttered and flamed with the unusual orgasm evoked by his powerful, elevated act of inspired cunnilingus.
Esther moaned in wistful envy. I heard her plaintively murmur, "I wish I was as pretty and passionate as Martha. She never seems to wear out. My snatch is so sore already that I doubt if I can walk and my boobs feel as if they've been run through a washing machine wringer."
Ron reluctantly released his caressing clutches at Esther's bruised breasts. He got up and reached down to assist her to her feet. "You were a sweet lay, honey. Don't try to keep up with a sexpot like Martha. She's an insatiable nympho. Not even big Bruce here can satisfy her and keep her satisfied."
Bruce dropped me down on the bed. He started sucking at my nipples while his big, blunt fingers masturbated my clamoring genitals.
"We'd kill each other inside of a month," he happily advised his teacher friend and the bedraggled-looking young redhead gingerly massaging her abused breasts.
Ron moved up behind Esther. He took hold of his spent sex organ and brushed it slowly back and forth along the cute crevice of her backside.
"I think you'll like this," he muttered. He succeeded in attaining an erection. He guided his penis into her rectum. Esther bent forward, her hands prying at the curves of her buttocks to permit passage of his inserting flesh.
"Ohh, that feels so nice! I hope you can keep it in for a long time," she whispered, smiling up and around at Ron.
Meanwhile, I had managed to fondle and caress Bruce's dangling, cuddlesome scrotum so that his penis had sprang up to reactivated prominence.
He flipped me over on my stomach. Sensing what he intended, I tried to wrench away, saying, "You can't put your prick in my back hole, Bruce! It's much too big! You'll wreck something!"
He refused to listen. He slammed wickedly down on top of my upended rear. His punishing penis forced painful access to my rectum.
I gave an involuntary lunge of anguished discomfort.
Bruce yelled as something snapped.
"Geez! You busted my prick!" he howled, jerking out of the anal intercouse he'd attempted. He fell off the bed, his hands cupped protectively over his damaged sex organ.
Esther screamed in shrill panic, rushing over to snatch up her clothing, leaving Ron Dorrance standing there with a bulging penis that appeared just about ready to ejaculate.
Ron dived after the flighty young redhead. He bore her to the bedroom floor and angrily rolled her over on her stomach. He jammed in his sex shaft and went off immediately despite her wailing threshings of alarmed protest.
Both men limped from the apartment a few minutes afterward. Bruce was okay. His penis was an ugly black and blue but no bones had been broken.
Esther was still sniffling when I stuffed the ten dollar bill in her hand and severely slapped her across her quivering mouth.
"Get hold of yourself! You haven't been hurt!"
She stared dully at me, unable to believe I'd so cruelly lashed out at her. As the pained shock left her dark green eyes to be replaced by timid obedience, she opened her hand and looked at the crumpled currency.
She managed a wan smile when she raised her tear-streaked face to look at me. "Thanks, Martha," she whispered. "I-I'll be okey, now. Lake you said, I'm not hurt. I'd better go home, now, hadn't I? I mean, before your mother gets back and sees this mess."
"No. You have to help me tidy up," I said. I gave her a push in the direction of the bedroom she'd used. "You clean up in there. I'll take care of Mother's room."
We finished putting the apartment back in order. It was still an hour before midnight. I felt sorry for the way I'd treated my girlfriend.
"Come on," I said, taking her hand. We went into my room. I unzipped her dress and took it off for her. "Take off your bra and undies," I said while I disrobed, too.
Esther came into a grateful clinch with me on the bed. We kissed and tenderly caressed each other's naked breasts. I moved down to apply a soothing session of oral masturbation to her chafed cunt. She took out one of those hard red rubber dog bones and brought me to an orgasm with it. Later, we kissed and hugged each other like loving sisters.
After she had gone home, I took a bath and donned my lightweight blue baby doll pajamas. I was watching the late show on television when Mother returned.
"You shouldn't stay up so late, Martha," she fondly chided. She came over and ran her fingers adoringly through my golden blonde tresses. "I have some news for you, darling. I intended to wait until morning but as long as you're still up, I'll tell you now."
I smiled up at her in curious expectation. "What is it, Mom?"
"I'm getting married this Saturday, baby. To Gordon Clarke. Are you surprised? Happy to hear you'll soon have a new father?"
I arose from the chair and walked over to switch off the TV. "Oh, sure. Im surprised. I haven't met him, have I?"
"No, not yet. He's coming over to meet you tomorrow evening, Martha. I know you two will like each other. He's so nice, so tall and good-looking. He's traveling auditor for the state. It's his first and only job since he graduated from college a few years ago."
I smiled at my mother, seeing how thrilled and happy she looked. She was 40 years old although she could easily pass for 10 years younger. Except for me. I was approaching my 18th birthday. That meant she would have had to have been only 12 years old when she'd had me.
"Good for you, Mom!" I said. I meant it, even if I did remember how often and how bitterly she'd sworn never to remarry. I rushed over to her. We embraced. Kissed each other and clung wordlessly together.
CHAPTER FIVE
While Mother and her new husband were off on their 2-week honeymoon, I celebrated New Years Eve in the apartment. It was a real swinging party. The men brought up plenty of expressive booze. Gail Sommers, Nancy Krueger and Esther Talbot gradually lost their inhibitions as the imported liquor flowed.
It was a few minutes before the horn-tooting and bell ringing summons of midnight to usher in the new year when Nancy lurched fuzzily up from the sofa where Dave Barlow had been necking and petting with her.
Stumbling to the center of the room, the skimpy-breasted little blonde planted her feet far apart and began undulating in slow, symbolic coital movements. She planted her hands on her hips as her full, pleated red skirt swirled higher and higher around her shapely white thighs.
"Whoopie! Happy New Year, everybody!" she shrieked, giggling as she tipsily whirled and staggered around, sending her skirt soaring up to reveal her wispy pink panties.
Ron Dorrance quit feeling up a disheveled, bleary-eyed Esther Talbot where they stood clinching in a shadowy corner of the living room. He pushed her away and walked out to recklessly seize the gaily-spinning blonde.
"Let's put on a good floor show while we're at it, Nancy," he said. With a quick drop to his knees, he swept his head in beneath her skirt.
Bruce Mackley groaned with envious amusement, seeing his friend boldly strip down the swaying girl's briefs and cram his face amid her naked crotch.
Dave Barlow scowled, blinking owlighly in an effort to clear his addled senses. He hiccupped loudly and liquor sloshed over the sides of his highball glass, spilling all over the front of his rumpled slacks.
Gail Sommers clapped her hands in ecstatic approval, giddily saying, "Ohh, goodie! Mmm, that looks like fun! Who wants to try that with me?"
Both Bruce Mackley and Tom Hansen jumped to their feet. Tom was faster. He grabbed the mocking young brunette and slithered down the front of her weaving chassis. He flipped up her tan skirt and promptly commenced nuzzling at the crotch of her white panties.
Ron Dorrance spluttered and coughed, gasping in outraged dismay. I saw that poor Nancy had lost control of her kidneys. She'd urinated, drenching Ron's face.
In the shocked silence that followed, I arose from the recliner chair. Walking past the inert, stricken guests, I went into the bathroom. I ran warm water over a clean wash cloth. I took it and a freshly laundered towel back across the living room with me.
As I cleaned off Ron's livid, wetly-flushed face, I laughed, saying, "That's what I'd call the floor show to end all floor shows! What a grand finale that was!"
Bruce Mackley started to chuckle. His of semi-intoxicated merriment became hearty guffaws of gleeful laughter. Ron grinned up at me. Then, he and the others began laughing, too.
All except humiliated, scarlet-faced Nancy Krueger. She was trying hard not to burst into mortified tears. Dave Barlow had finally succeeded in railing his swimming senses sufficiently to get up off the sofa. He staggered darkly over to her. His right hand shot out, cruelly grabbing her wrist, whirling her to face him.
"You filthy pig! I'm getting the hell outa here! Go ahead and let these creeps suck your measly tits and lick the daylights outa your crack!"
Bruce ceased chortling in good-natured enjoyment. He ambled over to push his big palm into the youth's pimply face. His shove sent Dave violently backwards. Dave stumbled over Tom Hansen who was again ducked under Gail's dress where she was sprawled on the carpeting.
Tom jerked up furiously, interrupted in his cunnilingus efforts. He dived on top of the hapless teenager and sent his fists crashing down into Dave's unprotected face.
Both Ron and Bruce pulled Tom off the bleeding, unconscious kid before any really serious damage was done. They carried Dave over to the sofa and dropped him to the cushions.
Tom had once more returned to his hunkered haven between Gail's parted, upraised thighs. She moaned and writhed, basking in the torrid throes of sensation that swiftly brought her to orgasm.
Bruce approached me. He gathered me up. tucking my laughing, flailing form under his arm, carrying me into Mother's bedroom.
Bouncing me unceremoniously down on the bedspread, he said, "Get stripped, Martha. Hey, you don't mind if I bring that scrawny little girl who went wee-wee in to share in our fun, do you? I can't help feeling sorry for her."
"Go get her, tiger!" I urged, already starting to take off my dress.
Nancy looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh, cry or faint as the huge construction company president bore her bodily into the bedroom. She'd sobered somewhat after her hectic experiences in the living room.
I reached up, receiving Bruce. His sturdy, oversized sex shaft slipped smoothly into my parted vagina. Nancy was watching us fornicate. She started to pant, just seeing that big pecker slip rapidly in and out of my cunt. She swiftly removed her clothes and straddled my head, bringing her nude snatch within range of Bruce's mouth. He gave a savoring grunt of relishing acclaim as he performed lusty cunnilingus upon her while he pumped to a powerful ejaculation on top of me.
Nancy sobbed in grateful release. Even as she sank down following her climax, my lips came up to kiss at her quivering satiny pink cunt.
"Mmm, that was wonderful!" Nancy said, smiling from Bruce to me as she sprawled between us. Bruce bent over to suck at her smallish boobs. "Ohh, I'm afraid you won't get any milk," Nancy whispered, running her fingertips through his jet black hair. "I'm one of those girls who just doesn't manufacture any mamary juices."
I eased down and pried at her sandy blonde snatch. I was curious. I wanted to compare our cunts. Nancy's was lots smaller than my hole. I poked in with my extended fingers. Her vagina was considerably more shallow than mine, too.
Bruce got another hard on while he licked Nancy's nipples and pumped his big fingers in and out of my front and back holes !in well-timed cadence. He decided to try Nancy's cunt. She gasped in brief, whimpering pain as he accomplished the insertion of his huge penis.
"There. It's in as far as I can get it, baby," Bruce muttered, continuing to massage at my aroused genitals as he grinned down at Nancy. I glanced at their mated loins. His pecker was still showing with about 6 inches he simply couldn't fit inside her tiny sex slit.
She started having orgasms even without his doing any coital pushing. Just the penetrating pulsations of his sex shaft kept her coming. She moaned in blissful acceptance of those constant thrills.
Bruce pulled his unspent penis from her vagina after she'd passed out with a much-gratified smile on her lips. He chuckled, shaking his huge, shaggy head as he stared down at Nancy. "She just hasn't got it, has she? Well, at least she got to start the New Year right after all."
I rolled onto my back and drew up my legs, letting them spread as far apart as they could go. That left my loins up raised in gaping enlargement. Bruce casually leaned down to kiss at my revealed pink inner flesh.
"Ooh, that's nice," I softly encouraged. "By the way, thanks again for that two hundred you put up for tonight's party."
He crouched above my crotch. Again and again, his coarse, warm tongue flicked out in rhythmic partakings of my seeping femininity. "Uhh, umm! That's what money's for, sweetie," he thickly replied between lavishing lappings at my richly-spasming flesh.
We remained on the bed for more than an hour. Eventually, Bruce had to shove his penis in and let it explode with pent-up passion. By then, I'd gone off at least a dozen times, thoroughly enjoying each orgasm.
Bruce started to snore almost immediately after rolling to the mattress beside my naked girlfriend. I wasn't a bit sleepy even if I was more than a trifle drunk and the bedside clock showed it to be 1:30 A. M.
Tom Hansen was still in the living room but he'd changed sex partners. He was drowsily toying with the soft pink pliancy of Esther Talbot's cunt. Esther was limp on the sofa. One of her arms was loosely dangling down past the cushions where her nude form was sprawled. Her lovely dark red mass of hair was tumbled across her reposed young features. She'd either passed out from too much booze or she'd just dropped off into a deep, relaxed sleep.
Tom pushed shakily up from between her legs and blinked, trying to focus on my unclad curves. "Oh. Hiya. Martha. How's about letting me lick at your lollipop for a while? I guess I've about used this cherry-flavored sucker up."
I shrugged, lowering my buttocks to the carpeting next to the sofa. I brought up my knees, lazily allowing them to drift out in opposite directions.
"Help yourself. Light me a smoke and bring down an ashtray, though, will you, Tommy?"
He fished out a cigarette. Lit it. Picked up the green cut glass ashtray from the step table. He passed me the ignited smoke and placed the ashtray on the rug within my reach.
He had a hard on but it didn't seem to move him. He was more interested in cunnilingus than in coupling our loins for coital fulfillment. He scrunched down so he could lower his face to my crotch. His fingers plowed through the wiry abundance of my tawny blonde pubic bush to locate the slitted entrance to my vagina.
"Uhh, ohh, umm! Ohh, doll! Watta hot, yummy honey pot!" he praised. He pressed his lust-obsessed face more fully into contact with my wet, fluttering inner flesh.
Gail Sommers strutted out of my room. Her dark brown hair was freshly brushed. Her naked ruby nipples were taut, beckoning provocations. Her triangular thatch of dark pubic hair was damp from the scrubbing effects of the shower she'd obviously just taken.
"I went back in to see if Ron wanted more," she explained, walking over to the recliner chair. She eased her gorgeous young chassis down into the chair. "He's through for the night. I guess that leaves us with only Tom to celebrate with"
Tom groaned, behaving like a sex-starved glutton. He practically crawled inside my throbbing crack, too involved in his determined cunnilingus to even notice that Gail had joined us.
After a while, Gail got down and wriggled in beneath his rigid penis. She commenced light, unhurried fellatio. Even her restrained oral sex contacts were too much for him, though. He ejaculated without warning, catching Gail completely off guard. She coughed and choked, spiting violently as she jumped up and rushed for the bathroom.
I giggled, hearing her spit some more, then start noisily gargling with antiseptic mouthwash.
Tom lurched unsteadily to his feet, blinking in liquor befogged bewildermet. "What the hell happened, anyway?" he mumbled. "Did someone suck me off?"
I laughed, snubbing out me cigarette. Getting up from the thick smoke beige carpeting, I stretched up to brush my lips over his. "Don't worry about it, lover. Now, what say you do some more sucking? My boobs feel to heavy with milk to keep carrying around."
Tom drew us over to the recliner chair. He sat down and pulled me down on his naked lap. He obligingly began to nurse at one of my tingling breasts.
Gail prowled back from the bathroom. She camped between my legs and playfully pushed her hand in and out of my cunt. I smiled down at her. "Mmm, keep doing it," I encouraged.
Tom burped and hiccupped, pausing in his successful sucking. He grinned at me in bleary-eyed apology. "Sorry but I can't drink another drop, Martha. Matter of fact, I think I'm gonna toss all my cookies."
I slipped from his bony, hairy knees so he could lurch up from the recliner stagger into the bathroom. From where Gail and I were, we could see him bend down over the toilet bowl. He vomited effortlessly, feeling no pain.
Gail masturbated me to an orgasm. I did the same for her, finishing her with oral masturbation. We strolled into my mother's bedroom to see how things were going.
Esther had awakened and arisen from the sofa. She joined us inside the bedroom. We stood watching Nancy quietly performing fellatio on the still-snoring Bruce Mackley.
Esther pushed between us and climbed on the bed. She began running her hands along the channel connecting Nancy's backside to her cunt. Nancy glanced up from her stealthy performance at Bruce's enlarged penis and smiled in moaning approval of the other girl's caressing intimacies.
"I think you might get a taste of cream if you cared to suck at my tits, Esther," she whispered. "At least, my boobs feel like they finally have a little milk in them."
Esther crawled up so her mouth could close firmly around one of Nancy's petite pink nipples. Both girls moaned in thrilled relish.
Gail and I returned to the living room. We were somewhat surprised to see Dave Barlow materialize from-behind the sofa. Dave looked like a living corpse. His pudgy, pimply face was streaked with blood from his cut lips and battered nose. His straw-colored hair was sticking up in every direction. His naked torso teetered and tottered dangerously as he shuffled out from in back of the sofa where he'd been stashed so that Tom and Esther could have their fun in comfort.
"Lemme sit down," Dave hollowly mumbled.
Gail and I-hurried over to him. We guided him to the sofa, pushing him carefully down on the cushions. While Gail fixed us martinis, I shooed Tom Hansen from the bathroom and soaped up a warm, wet washcloth.
Tom had a drink with us. Even as he gulped down the last of his martini, his eyes crossed and he passed out, falling face forward to the carpeting.
I gave an involuntary yelp of startled excitement, feeling Dave's mouth vigorously applied to my nipple while I administered to his wounds with the washcloth.
"Hey, you must be feeling better!"
Gail glanced around and saw what was happening. She drained her drink and hustled over. She got down between Dave's legs and seized his rising penis with both hands. She moaned in feverish craving, crowding in so she could begin fellatio upon him.
Dave drank heartily at my generously-responding boobs. He started finger-fucking me while Gail brought him to near orgasm.
"Wait-stop for a minute, will you, baby?" he requested. When Gail refused to quit, he abandoned my snatch and grabbed a handful of the busy young brunette's long hair. He yanked up hard and Gail cried out in resentful pain. But his forcible tugs at her hair finally brought her up from his genitals.
"Why can't I suck you all the way off?" Gail plaintively begged. Her nostrils were quivering. Her dark eyes burned with passionate thirst. Her full, sensual red lips pouted as she stared up at Dave.
"Not yet. Hell, I've been out of action most of the time. I wanna spread it around before you use it all up for me," he patiently growled. His right hand sought out the entrance to my vagina. He pushed his left hand into Gail's dark-haired cunt. "Bring up your boobs," he told her. "I've drained Martha's tits dry. Now, I wanna suck yours for a while."
She moved in so he could fit his mouth to one of her rosily-prominent nipples. Her other breast looked so enticing that I decided to try for a creamy sample just to taste what it was like.
Gail went off bending over the bed with her hands braced on the mattress and her nude legs parted. Dave kept rubbing his inserted fingers inside both of our holes. I moaned, obtaining a spurting mouthful of warm milk from Gail's resilient pink tip of puckered flesh. Dave groaned, swallowing her secretions just as fast as he could suck.
I placed my hands over his erect cock and started stroking gently at it. Dave didn't have much of a penis. Still, it was better than nothing. I could feel it lubricating all over my palm and fingers.
"Okay, okay!" Dave hoarsely grumbled. "I promised to let Gail have the first load. How are we gonna do this? I wanna lick your sweet, sexy slit while she does it to me."
Solving that problem was a cinch. I climbed up on the bed and spread my legs so Dave could stick his face into my widened crotch. As he commenced eager cunnilingus, Gail only had to bend over his semi-prostrate frame to envelope his rigid sex shaft between her coaxing lips.
I went off just as Dave grunted in pleased sensation. Gail enjoyed his staccato ejaculation, mewing and moaning with gasping reception.
She made us another round of strong martinis and gargled with her drink. Some of the booze spilled over her big boobs and she giggled in uncaring abandon.
My vagina had gone dry. So I stretched out on the mattress and deftly poured some of the liquor into my upraised hole.
Dave chuckled, pouncing on top of me. He sipped his martini and bent over my cunt. He blew in a mouthful of booze and promptly rolled me over so the liquor drained from my tingling loins for him to guzzle. He smacked his lips and used the back of his hand to wipe off the excess booze which had drenched his submerged face.
"Mmm, man! Was that good!" he boyishly proclaimed, running his hands over my backside. "Listen, how's about letting me pour some in this cute asshole of yours, baby?"
About then, I was game for anything. I flipped over on my tummy again. I caught sharply at my breath, feeling the cold liquor being funneled into my rectum. It acted like an enema. I let out a dismayed screech and jumped off the mattress to run for the toilet.
Dave and Gail stood in the open bathroom doorway, laughing uproariously at my plight as I plopped frantically down on the John. I got there just in time.
Ron Dorrance sauntered into the living room, looking refreshed and virile. He grinned at me as I emerged from the bathroom after flushing the toilet.
"Happy New Year, Martha! Let's fuck while we dance, what do you say?"
I glanced over at the sofa. Gail and Dave were already matched up for anal intercourse with Gail's upended buttocks pulled apart so Dave's stubby prick could slip easily inside her satiny rectum.
"Suits me. How did you sleep?" I conversationally inquired, stretching up on tiptoes so Ron could accomplish the penetration. His nice-sized penis inched snugly inside my vagina. We danced with Ron keeping his knees bent so as not to put too much strain on his inserted sex shaft. His fingers stroked constantly along the furrow of my backside. Another advantage to our upright coital was that with his legs bent Ron was able to apply his mouth to my nipples. He sucked alternately at my breasts, bringing forth a new supply of creamy substance from each voluptuous coral valve.
Dawn was beginning to glint through the thick, dark cloud banks visible through the apartment windows.
We finished the last bottle of booze.
Tom Hansen revived in time to take over for Ron. He wasn't much of a dancer. He got tired of trying to make his semi-rigid prick stay in my hole. Instead, he got around behind me and had me bend over and pray at the cheeks of my buttocks so he could stab his penis into that hole. We waltzed slowly across the living room, maintaining the anal intercourse.
We peered into my mother's bedroom.
Bruce Mackley had his gigantic sex organ drilled down inside Nancy Krueger's shallow cunt. Esther Talbot was sprawled on the mattress with a pillow proponed beneath her nude rear so that her red-hair crotch was within easy range of Bruce's buried face.
Ron increased his pumping pressures. His penis ejaculated with thrilling jets within my rectum. I moaned, leaning back against him. "Use your fingers !" I urged.
He reached around and both hands into my clamoring loins. He chuckled at my welcoming whimpers. "You don't ever get enough, do you?"
I went off and swayed away from him so that his depleted pecker slipped from my backside.
My head was really spinning by then. I stumbled into the bathroom and puked. I got vomit all over myself before my violent retchings ceased.
A hot, steaming shower followed by an icy torrent of water helped.
I was toweling my shivering curves dry when Gail Sommers came bursting into the bathroom. She was already throwing up even as she dived for the toilet bowl. She clutched at the white porcelain rim of the toilet while she coughed and chocked, spewing out putrid greenish vomit.
I hastily backed from the bathroom, not wanting to witness her horrible expulsions for fear I'd start puking again.
I heard a loud thump. I peered cautiously back inside the biffy and saw Gail collapsed in the midst of her mess.
Everyone else was either asleep or passed out, too.
I made it as far as the vacant recliner chair, somehow managing to step over the huddled nude form of Dave Barlow without tripping. I don't even remember sitting down. I guess I lost consciousness even as I aimed my numbed anatomy for the padded leather cushions.
It was late afternoon when I awakened. The apartment was empty. What a sour-smelling garbage heap it was!
A sizzling cup of black coffee helped. I staggered feebly around, opening windows. I took a shower. That helped, too. After I poured down another cup of coffee, I stared cleaning.
The telephone rang shortly after 6:00 P. M. It was Mother.
"How are you getting along back there, Martha?" she asked. There was fond concern in her voice along the long distance wires.
"Oh, just fine, Mom. How about you and Gordon?"
"We're in Las Vegas, now. We're starting the drive home tomorrow. We should see you about Wednesday, darling."
I frowned into the receiver but I made my voice bright as I said, "That's wonderful! I really miss you, Mom!"
"So do I miss you. Gordon's right here beside me. He wants to say hello before we hang up."
A suave, resonant male voice said, "Howdy, daughter dear! Your mommy and I have had ourselves a terrific time. I'll take you on my lap and tell you all about it when we get back."
He'd already held me on his lap, once. During the wedding reception while Mother was changing from her bridal ensemble into a traveling dress.
He'd sneaked a fast feel of my breasts while his lips had browsed mine. He'd explained that he just wanted me to feel like part of the new family. I'd felt something else, though. The bulging bigness of his penis against my backside. Even through our clothes, I felt the warm pulsations of his rigid evidence of lust.
I laughed, telling him I'd look forward to hearing all about their honeymoon trip. I said goodbye to both of them and told them to drive carefully on their way home.
Replacing the receiver in its cradle, I expelled a disturbed sigh. I truly loved my mother. I wanted her to be happy. I didn't intend to ever do or say anything that might hurt her.
CHAPTER SIX
Until school was out the first week that June, I didn't have any real problems with Gordon. That was partly because Mother was still a new sex toy for him to play with but mostly I guess because I avoided any situations where I'd be left alone with him.
As for Mom, she worshipped Gordon. She cooked his favorite foods. She went where he wanted to go. She did all of the things he wanted to do.
It was impossible for me not to be aware of some of their most intimate relations. For example, the weekend after they arrived at the apartment after their honeymoon. I came in late following my date with Bruce Mackley. They didn't hear me let myself in. Their bedroom door was ajar. The room was dark.
"Ohh, it's just-too big, darling," I heard Mother uncomfortably warm
I paused, hearing Gordon's aroused grunts. "Spread that tail tunnel wider, baby!" he harshly instructed. More groaning gasps of straining effort.
"Oww Ohh, it's going in!" Mother whimpered. "But please, darling! Not so far tonight! It's still sore from last night."
"Wider, Barbara! Come on, come on! Get ready for the big push! This one! Uhh! ohh, yeah!"
"Ooh! Ugh!"
"Now let me grab hold of those nifty boobs. Like-this!"
Mother's sobbing intake of anguished breath almost caused me to burst inside their room to rush to her defense. My hands knotted into hating fists, hearing her beg him not to be so rough.
That wasn't the only time Gordon Clarke exhibited sadistic tendencies. On another night shortly before Easter, he lumbered into our apartment and knocked over the living room table lamp.
He was mean drunk. He cursed as he kicked the fallen lamp, sending it sailing across the room to shatter against one of the walls.
Mom hurried out of their bedroom, clutching at the folds of her hastily-donned chemise. "Shh! You'll awaken Martha! Here-let me help you!"
Gordon didn't see me move sleepily into the doorway of my room. He glared at my mother, his lips warped in an abusive sneer. "Gripes, you look like hell! You know I don't like seeing your hair all balled up in those damn curies or all that cold cream goo plastered all over that wrinkled map of yours."
Mothers tried to take his arm and lead him into their bedroom. He shook her off and slapped her so hard she bounced off the floor and fell in a cringing heap with her body bare all the way up to her naked crotch.
"You were out with another woman, weren't you?" Mother dully accused, ignoring the small trickle of blood from the cut in her lower lip. She began pushing unsteadily up from the carpeting.
Gordon blinked, mumbling an apology. He helped her up, putting his arm around her to support her. "Geez, I'm sorry I hit you, honey! I blew almost fifty bucks at poker tonight. That's why I'm so damn edgy. C'mon. Let's go to bed, Barbara, baby."
I could hear the rhythmic creakings of the inner spring mattress a few minutes later. Then, I heard a stifled cry of pain from Mother.
"Please, Gordon! Don't bite so hard at my nipples-ohh, please!"
He laughed, saying, "I guess this will show you I haven't been off somewhere fucking another babe! Come on-quit just laying there like a lifeless lump of cow meat! Give me some hot, hugging action!"
I don't know how many times I came close to flaring out at him, telling him how much I hated and despised him for how cruelly he treated the one person in this world I really loved.
It was only because I didn't want to be responsible for a right in their marriage that I kept quiet.
Gordon earned about twice the salary my mother did. What he didn't blow at playing poker or for booze and cigarettes he spent for clothes. He had more than a dozen expensive new suits in the closet in Mother's bedroom. It got to the point where she had to move most of her dresses into my already crowded closet.
It surprised me that he didn't try so much as a single pass even when Mother was around. Oh, he looked. Plenty. And the lust was there. But he behaved himself until after my 18th birthday which was shortly following my graduation from high school.
On work days, Mother and Gordon always left the apartment together. He'd drop her at the state office building, then head out on whatever accounting audit assignments he had for the day. Their working hours coincided so he could generally call for Mother at quitting time and they would return to the apartment together, too.
But on the rainy Tuesday morning the week after my birthday, I was back in bed, enjoying the luxury of being able to blaze around the apartment. I liked hearing the mild patters of rain streaking the windows. I'd just lit a cigarette and switched on the bedside radio to listen to some early morning music.
"You look real comfy and cozy, honey."
I paused in the process of bringing the cigarette I'd just lit to my lips. I stared at the big, good-looking guy lounging in the open bedroom doorway.
"What are you doing back here, Gordon?"
He chuckled, sauntering into my room. "I guess I forgot this is one of my days off. I've got too much accumulated sick leave. I called in and told them I had a touch of the flu."
"Maybe, you should have waited. There isn't much you can do on a rainy day."
"I can think of something I've been aching to do. Ever since the first time I saw you. He reached down to flip back the sheet covering me. I was wearing sheer light green baby doll pajamas. His gaze went hungrily to the swells of my breasts against the semi-transparent tops.
Taking a slow drag on my cigarette, I let the smoke trickle from my nostrils. As his hands came out to cup at my boobs, I casually pressed the burning top of the cigarette against the back of one of his hands.
Gordon yelped, jerking back. I smiled coldly up at him. "You can look all you like. But you don't get to do any touching."
He laughed, massaging the burned spot on his left hand. "Who do you think you're kidding, baby? Hell, I've talked with some of the guys you've let screw you. They tell me you've got the hottest hole in town."
"I'm not trying to fool anyone. What I'm telling you is that I love and respect my mother. That I won't help you shame and hurt her more than you have, already. In my book you're a worthless crud with a vicious mean streak a mile wide." I took another long drag on the cigarette. I stared up at him, enjoying his discomfort. He kept ogling my lush young boobs, wanting to grab them. "I wouldn't have sex relations with you even if you weren't married to my mother. Because, believe it or not, I'm particular about the men I fuck with."
He grinned, spreading his hands in a gesture of helpless defeat. "Okay, that's plain enough, Martha.
I would like to see what you look like beneath those pajamas, though. You said I could look all I wanted to."
I raised up and used my free hand to pull down my baby doll p. j. bottoms. I kicked the garment off my ankles, then raised both knees and them apart. "Sure. Have a good look at that hole you've heard so much about," I drawled. I wanted to get him so sexually aroused that he'd have to make another try.
Gordon groaned, regarding the golden bush surrounding my parted cunt. "Ohh, that's the most beautiful box I've ever seen! It's lots bigger and deeper than Barbara's! Listen I'll give you fifty bucks if you'll let me fuck you, Martha!"
"Uh-uh. Not for all the money in the world. While you're looking, what do you think of my back hole?" I wriggled down and arched up so he could see my rectal entrance.
He began to slobber, so great was his frustrated lust. "A hundred dollars! I'll make it a hundred!"
"I said no, Gordon." I smiled, relaxing and easing back on the mattress. I took a final puff on the cigarette, then reached over to snub it out in the ashtray. I skimmed out of the pale green p. j. tops. I tossed them at Gordon. They fluttered over his lust-darkened face. "Take a good whiff. That's as close as you'll get to having a piece from me."
He tore off the pajama top I'd flung up into his face. He stared at the ivory hugeness of my firm breasts tipped by erect pink nipples.
"We'll see about that," he muttered. He began to take off his suit. "You might change your mind once you see what you're missing."
I watched him disrobe. As he shucked his undershorts, I saw the rigid immensity of his hairy genitals. His penis was a foot long and even thicker than Bruce Mackley's. He grinned, noting the flushed arousement visible on my cheeks.
"You need a bath, Gordon. I can smell the sweat and dirt from here," I told him, putting all the contempt I could into my words.
"I'll take a bath later," he growled. He was through wasting time. He'd lost his patience for any civilized seduction efforts. He suddenly dived down on the bed, grabbing for me.
My right knee jerked up, slamming fully into his dangling scrotum.
Gordon howled, doubling over to hug at his near-ruptured genitals.
I slipped from the bed and hurried into the apartment kitchen. I came back into the bedroom carrying the sharp carving knife I'd taken from one of the drawers.
"Don't think I'd be afraid to use this," I quietly said.
He was still sprawled on my bed. His fingertips were gingerly exploring his bruised sex organ. He was ghastly pale, drenched with clammy sweat. There was raw hatred in his eyes as he stared at me.
"I'll fix you for this, Martha! I'll pay you back-don't think I won't!"
Placing the knife on top of the bureau within easy reach, I opened the second drawer. Without taking my watchful gaze from him, I fished out fresh white briefs and a brassiere. Donning the lingerie, I said, "For Mother's sake, I don't want trouble with you, Gordon. Just stay away from me and we'll get along fine. You had your look. I wouldn't have had to do a strip act for you."
"Just wait. One of these days, I'll catch you off guard. I'll bite off the tips of your tits and spit them into your smug, bitchy face. Then, I'll use my hands to turn that hot cunt of yours inside out while I fuck away at that sexy asshole. I'll ream you all the way up to your belly through the back crack, Martha. I'll make you such a butchered, bloodied mess that no other man will ever want to look at you."
I selected a turquoise blue shift from the closet. As he pushed painfully up from my bed, hobbling past me toward the doorway, I picked up the carving knife. Just in case.
"If you ever try to touch me, I'll kill you, Gordon. I don't need this knife. I have long, sharp fingernails. And good, strong teeth. I'll kick and hit and scratch and bite. Yes, and scream. I can scream very loudly, Gordon. But I don't think I'll have to."
He stalked over to his pile of clothing. Grunting in renewed pain from his bruised genitals as he bent down to pick up his clothes, he glared at me.
"I can wait. The time will come when you'll be begging me to fuck you. So you love and respect your middle-aged slut momma, huh?"
I winced at his harsh taunts. "She isn't old! Don't you call her that!"
Gordon laughed, leaving my room with his gathered pile of clothing. "Barbara is nothing but a dried-p old sex cow. Her tits don't give any milk. Her cunt stinks of dead fish. Wait until tonight, baby. You'll hear me bouncing her off the walls." He laughed again, stepping out through the open bedroom doorway. "You can come in and watch the fun if you want to. Come in and see me screw her to a bloody, whining pulp!"
I dreaded that evening. So shortly before Mother was due home from her office job, I left the apartment.
Don Buelow was in town on leave from the army. He took me to a supper club for dinner. Afterwards, we went to his house. His family had gone out so we could have the comfortable older residence to ourselves.
Pulling down the top of my dress. Don unfastened my bra so he could get at my boobs. We were sitting on the sofa. I watched the variety show on the color TV set while he fondled my nude breasts.
"Stretch out for me, baby!" Don urgently pleated after he'd emptied my tingling mammary endowments. I obediently sank into a supine position. He took off my blue shift dress, then with eagerly shaking fingers, he peeled down my wispy white panties. "Yeah, ohh, yeah! This is what I've been dreaming about all through boot camp!' he tickly praised. He ran his hands over my dark blonde thatch of pubic hair.
I smiled, seeing the thrusting prominence of his penis at the front of his uniform slacks. "You must have had plenty of wet dreams, then, hmm? I softly teased.
Don bent down so he could kiss at my tawny snatch. He chuckled, digging both hands into my crotch to widen the entrance to my vagina. "Damn near every night," he hoarsely admitted. "Umm, ohh, uhh, umm!"
His cunnilingus activities swiftly brought me to orgasm. I squirmed around on the sofa cushions so I could spread my thighs even more widely apart. His relishing lips and tongue lapped wildly at my loins. I went off again and again, forgetting all about the television program.
We had to quit shortly before midnight at the sounds of the family car turning into the driveway. As the headlights swept past the living room windows, lighting the drapes as a further flash of warning, Don quickly hopped on top of me and pumped to a determined ejaculation.
We hastily got dressed and moved apart.
As Don's parents and teen-aged sister entered the house, we were sitting on opposite ends of the sectional sofa, watching TV in spellbound innocence.
Don's big, strapping daddy grinned, winking at us,. "I hope that movie is better than the one we saw at the theatre, tonight. Do you kids care for a beer?"
Don grinned back at his Dad, saying, "I guess not. I'm not a bit thirsty, are you , Martha?"
"Oh, I could do with a glass of water before you take me home," I said, arising from the sofa.
Mrs. Buelow and her 1-year-old daughter Donna were already in their upstairs rooms, probably getting into their pajamas. I accompanied Frank Buelow into the kitchen while Don stayed in the living room to watch the end of the late show.
Frank opened the refrigerator and took out two cans of chilled beer. He pulled the snap top opener and handed me the can. "This beats water." He opened the other can, bumping it against mine. "I like to drink straight from the hole. I'll get a glass for you if you prefer, Martha."
I met his inquiring look. It wasn't the first time he'd stared so wistfully and wishfully at the curves of my boobs.
"That movie will last for at least another half an hour," I murmured before tipping the can to sip at the beer.
He sighed, swigging down a good-sized swallow of his beer. Lowering the frosted can, he wiped his big hand over his lips. "Half an hour would be worth ten bucks to me."
"Make it twenty and you can start swigging it straight from the holy any time you feel like it," I said, swaying in toward him.
He took the twenty from his wallet and gave it to me. I shifted my feet apart as he got down on the kitchen tile squares and brought his head up under my blue shift skirt.
He pulled my panties down from my crotch so he could crowd in for a close examination of my naked pussy. I heard him groan in muffled acclaim as he started kissing at the sensitive edges of my cunt.
We both began to get really hot. I bent my knees, pushing my vagina down over his upturned mouth. Frank shuddered, seizing my nude buttocks with both hands. He almost drowned at the lubricating deluge from my aroused loins. He kept right on licking until I went off.
I couldn't stand up any longer. I stretched out on the floor. He whipped off his pants and shorts and sank his penis inside my hole. He didn't have as much as his son but what he lacked in inches he made up for with enthusiasm. I wriggled around, getting my shift unzipped and pulled down from my shoulders. He helped unclasp my bra and his hands were shaking as he pulled the cups away from my rosily-tipped breasts.
"Ohh, these are so sweet to suck!" he marveled. He kept stroking his throbbing sex shaft inside my crack all the time he sucked at my nipples. I guess it had been a long while since he'd gotten any milk from a girl's tits because he couldn't get enough of it.
I had several pleasant if unspectacular orgasms during our coital manipulations. I went off a little more passionately in response to his thudding ejaculation.
We were just climbing up from the floor when Don moseyed into the kitchen. He watched his red-faced father hurriedly stuff his spent prick inside his briefs while I rearranged my rumpled blue dress and shook out my disheveled mass of golden blonde hair.
"You wanna take Martha home, Dad?" Don mildly queried. He yawned, digging in his slacks pocket. "I'm bushed. All that time on the train yesterday got me tuckered. Here are my keys."
Frank caught the set of car keys Don tossed to him. "Sure. I'll be glad to run Martha home. Why don't you finish our beers for us, Don? It's a shame to let them go to waste. Neither of them has hardly been touched."
I smiled, walking up to Don. I stretched up to brush my lips over his. "Goodnight, soldier. Call me before you have to head back for camp."
He patted my rear, grinning at me. "You bet, baby. Take good care of Dad. He deserves a little harmless fun."
We left the house. Frank went around to open the door of his son's convertible for me. As we drove off, I snuggled against him.
"What would your wife say if she knew about this?"
Frank chuckled. He took his right hand from the wheel and slipped his arm across my shoulders. His fingers squeezed over the fullness of one of my breasts. "Dorothy and I haven't fucked for the past several years, Martha. She's in the change of life. Her cunt gets sore just from a light fingering. She knows I pick up a piece of ass now and then. As long as I keep it quiet, she doesn't care."
"There's an iron cot in the boiler room at the apartment building. We can use it. The janitor has an apartment on the ground floor. He only uses the cot when he and his wife are having a tiff. Right now, they're busy trying to make another baby."
Frank's fingers squeezed more boldly at my boob. "Has he jumped you, too? The janitor, I mean?"
"Nope. Not yet."
"Would you let him?"
"Sure. For twenty bucks."
"Is that what another session will cost me?"
"Oh. make it ten this time. For up to an hour. Or until I've made you go off. Whichever is sooner."
We entered the huge multi-unit apartment building. We descended the stairs to the basement. We went inside the furnace room sealed off from the rest of the shadowy basement by a steel, self-closing fire door.
We both took off all of our clothes, this time.
Frank groped me and started necking me. His hands traveled across my naked form. He felt all there was to feel. I played with his unresponsive penis while we french-kissed and caressed each other.
He pushed me down on the iron cot. He hopped on top of me in the 69 position. He gasped and groaned in pleased delight as I began fellatio. His flurries of cunnilingus became frantic and labored. He ran out of breath and flopped between my legs in panting exhaustion. Still, his sluggish sex organ wouldn't get hard.
I kept up the slow, coaxing series of alternating manual and oral masturbation intimacies. My patience was ultimately rewarded. Although his penis didn't stiffen, it did jerk in a feeble series of spurts that brought Frank sexual gratification.
I was approaching 2:00 A.M. when I let myself in and crept across the darkened apartment.
Gordon must have been staying awake for my return. Because I'd no sooner than slipped inside the bathroom to take a fast shower, then brush my teeth and gargle when I heard my mother cry out in startled anguish.
"Wake up, you wrinkled hag! Stop that damn snoring!" Gordon loudly bellowed as I shut off the lavatory faucet and rushed from the bathroom.
I stared into the darkened bedroom. Mother was sobbing. "Ohh, please! Don't be so abusive!"
Gordon laughed coarsely. "I' pinch these shriveled tits all I want! You're my wife. I can do whatever I damn well please to any part of you!"
I groped for the wall switch. I located it and swept it up. The twin vanity lamps winked on.
Mother was naked. So was the husky, dark-haired devil she'd married. Gordon sat above her writhing form. His hands were cruelly bunching at her breasts, his fingers savagely twisting at both ruby nipples.
I gasped, seeing the livid welts crisscrossing her entire body. "Stop it! Stop it!" I shrieked, rushing toward the bed.
Gordon kicked out with both feet. His naked soles slammed into my midriff. I flew backward and fell heavily across the vanity bench, overturning it. One of my breasts popped from the loose bodice of my light blue baby doll pajamas.
"You stay out of this!" Gordon rasped. "This is between your cucked-out momma and me!"
Mother flashed me a stricken, pleading look. "Don't interfere, Martha!" she whispered.
Gordon punched her in the stomach as hard as he could. His fist sank into her flesh, burying her navel. He chuckled bending down to bite at the breast he'd released.
I scrambled furiously up from the floor. I snatched a chrome-plated hair brush from the vanity and hurled it at that snarling he-beast deliberately degrading my most beloved Mother.
The brush glanced off the side of Gordon's skull and ricocheted off one wall.
"What the-!" He jumped off the bed, rubbing at his head. "Why, you miserable bitch!"
As he charged at me, I kicked the overturned vanity bench into his path.
Gordon yelled, tripping over the skidding article of furniture. As he plunged into a headlong topple, I kicked out with my other foot. The flat of my bare sole caught him flush in the face. Blood spurted from his nostrils as he crashed to the floor at my feet.
Mother hobbled over. The wounded nipple was tom and mildly bleeding. There were even black and blue bruises on her legs and hips. Her loins were matted with dried blood. She could scarcely walk.
I wanted to take her in my arms. To kiss away all the hurt and humiliation. But as I reached impulsively out for her, her right hand came up and slapped me across the face.
"Get out of our room!" she shrilly ordered. "I told you not to interfere!" She dropped to her knees and cradled her husband's head on her lap, brushing soothingly at his curly shock of hair. "Poor darling! Ohh, Gordon! Open your eyes, dearest! Tell me you aren't badly hurt!"
He groaned, his dark eyelashes fluttering open. He reached up with his right hand to check his bleeding nose. He gasped in renewed pain. "Oww! Ohh, damn it! She busted it!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bruce Mackley took me on a tour through the housing subdivision his construction company had developed on the west side of Madison.
We entered a completely furnished model home.
I was fascinated by the ultra-modem kitchen with all is built-in appliances. I operated the automatic dishwasher and garbage disposal unit. I switched on the vented exhaust fan and twirled the revolving trays inside the combination freezer-refrigerator.
Bruce came up behind me while I was dialing the telephone number of our apartment. He crouched down and came up under the rear of my pleated brown skirt. He pressed his big, tanned face against the back of my scented pink briefs and nuzzled at the crevice of my backside.
"Hello, Mom. Did you find my note?"
Mother quietly replied that she had. After a pause, she said, "You didn't have to move out, Martha. No one forced you to leave."
"I know. It's for the best, though."
"You are so young. What will you do?"
"I'm nineteen now, Mom. Don't worry about me."
"Where are you calling from?"
Bruce had pulled down my briefs. He crawled between my legs. He raised up so he could commence performing leisurely lapping liberties at my naked crotch.
"I've found a beautiful place to stay. For the time being, I think it's better if you don't know where, Mother."
"All right, Martha. When will you be coming back for a visit?"
"This Sunday if that's convenient."
"Oh, I'm afraid we can't this Sunday, dear, Gordon is taking me to meet his parents. What about having dinner with us some night next week?"
"I'll phone you again after work on Monday. We can work out a date, then."
"Fine, Martha. Take good care of yourself."
"I will. Goodbye, Mom."
"Goodbye."
As I replaced the receiver of the wall phone, Bruce redoubled his oral sex contacts, causing me to experience a hotly-surging orgasm. I moaned, leaning against the wall for support, closing my eyes. I rode on the soaring sensations of sensual fulfillment as he repeated his fiery flicks and brought my vagina to another explosive release.
He laughed, easily scooping me up in his powerful arms. He lugged me into one of the trio of elegantly-furnished bedrooms and dropped me down on the mattress.
"What say we have a housewarming party here tonight, doll?"
I smiled up at him, watching him undress.
"Sure. Why not?"
He stripped off his slightly soiled and sweat-streaked white T-shirt, baring his hairy, muscular torso.
I looked at the protruding largeness of his virile genitals when he removed his striped undershorts. My cunt began to itch for further attentions.
I wriggled from my suit dress and undergarments. I shivered in welcoming ecstasy as Bruce got down and brushed his flaring penis slowly back and forth against the entrance to my vagina.
"Who should we invite?" he asked, grinning down at me. He used his other hand to heft and squeeze at my breasts. It didn't take much fooling around to start the milk seeping from my over-sized coral nipples.
"What about Ron Dorrance for one?"
Bruce sighed, shaking his huge, shaggy head. "Uh-uh. Ron's finished playing around. His wife threatened to divorce him the next time she caught him fucking another babe."
"Tom Hansen?'
"Uh-uh. I don't like that strutting fink.
"I know a boy who just got released from jail.
I grew up with him."
"Okay, so invite him."
"He's a darkie. His name's Ralph Owen."
"So what? Some of my best workers are niggers."
I arched up so that his browsing pecker became semi-inserted to my clamoring cunt. It was sufficient to evoke the orgasm I was seeking. Bruce chuckled, easing down so his penis sank completely inside my hole. He brought his mouth down over one of my nipples and started sucking to save the creamy substance spilling from both tips.
"Mmm, that's nice!" I whispered. "Have you ever tried sex with a colored girl?"
"Yeah, a couple of times."
"How did you like it?"
"Okay. No different than with white babes. Most Negro chicks are scared to screw wide open with a white guy, though. Mostly, they just lay there and let a guy do all the work.
I smiled, thinking about Jeannie Patterson. "You just might be pleasantly surprised tonight," I murmured. I pressed my hands down against the back of his head, jamming his mouth more fully over my other salvoing boob.
Esther Talbot couldn't come to the party that night. Her mother explained that Esther was getting married in a few days and that she and her future husband were taking special instructions with a Catholic priest since Esther had promised to change faiths.
Lois Griffin and Kathy Howell were the first to arrive. We'd patched up our differences now that we'd graduated from high school and were no longer rivals trying to beat other out with the same boyfriends.
Lois had her dark brown hair tinted red. She was considerably more plump than she'd been with most of the surplus poundage showing in her breasts and buttocks.
Kathy's pale yellow curls were artificially darkened into a richer blondeness. Her boobs were about the size of mine and she was slightly taller and slimmer than I was.
Bruce genially greeted both gals and supplied all of us with the martinis he'd mixed.
Jeannie Patterson and Bobby Flath arrived a few minutes later. Jeannie was wearing a new red sheath dress. Her size 40-C boobs threatened to burst through the clinging rayon acetate fabric. Her luxuriant black hair was attractively formed in Italian style ringlets.
Earlier when I'd told Bruce about Ralph Owen, I'd just been testing his reaction. Later, I'd explained about the racial clash when I'd been raped and Ralph had died with police bullets thudding into his body. Bruce had told me to go ahead and ask Bobby to the party under the condition that Jeannie Patterson had to come, too.
We were chatting and sipping at our martinis when the front door chimes bonged again. I went to the yummy Saturday afternoon Bill Weber and I had shared. He'd been transferred to another postal route right after our sexual intimacies had delayed him on his appointed rounds. Probably because some bad-natured neighborhood had spotted him sneaking out of the rented house following our prolonged fucking session.
Gail Sommers and Nancy Krueger were last to arrive. Nancy was lots better looking, now. Her bosom had matured. Her face had filled out, too and she'd dyed her mousy blonde hair to a realistic-looking strawberry shade.
Gail was still a cute brunette with generous curves in all the right places. The only thing that had changed about her was that she'd been in a car accident and one of her arms had been amputated at the elbow. The doctors had fixed her up with a plastic replacement that you couldn't tell from real skin and bones. It was sewed to her upper arm muscles so skillfully that she could control the pliant plastic fingers. She used her artificial hand to take the martini Bruce offered her.
"Thanks, lover," she purred, smiling up at him. "I often think about our New Year's Eve party. Phew! Did I get sick that night!"
All of us who's been present laughed in amused reminiscence. Jeannie Patterson walked over to the stereo record player and turned it on. She started to dance, spinning recklessly so that her hips seemed ready to split the seams of her tight cranberry red sheath skirt. She stopped and frowned in annoyance at the restricting fabric. Then, with a flashing smile of her perfect white teeth in contrast to her dusky complexion, she took off her dress.
"Now, I can move! This is more like it!" she gaily declared. We could see the dark shadow of her public bush through the wispy whiteness of her briefs. She started doing a frenzied dance. The strap of her bidding white brassiere broke. Both of her breasts bobbled free from the loosened bra cups.
Bruce Mackley pulled Nancy Krueger onto his lap after he'd plunked his hefty frame in the new deep maroon lounge chair. Nancy giggled as his big hand burrowed between her nylon-sheathed legs and wedged up amid the whiteness of her inner thighs.
"Ooh, you tickle!"
Gail Sommers came up against me. She smiled, casually slipping her artificial hand under my skirt. "See if you can tell the difference, Martha."
I spread my legs, letting her pull down my briefs. Her flexible plastic fingers rubbed at my loins. I returned her friendly smile, shaking my head. "It isn't quite the same, somehow."
Bill Weber was watching us. He had a half a hard on from watching Jeannie jump around with her nude boobies jiggling and jouncing so enticingly.
"Want to try that on me?" he asked, ambling over to us.
"Gail, this is a real mailman-and I do mean male," I said. Bill, Gail is curious to know if her artificial left hand is capable of stimulating anyone. It didn't work for me. Maybe, it could for you."
"Come on, Bill. Let's use one of the bedrooms and find out," Gail suggested. Her dark eyes went over his husky frame. "Mmm, I hope you like to be sucked off! Because I can see already that you've got plenty of yummy pecker for me to play with."
He unzipped her dress while they headed across the living-room in the direction of the bedrooms.
Bobby Flath was sitting on the sofa with Lois Griffin and Kathy Howell. Kathy had his pants open. She was masturbating with both her hands at his erected penis. Lois was tripped to the waist so Bobby could kiss at her nicely-nippled boobs. He had one hand wedged deep inside her vagina below her hiked-up dress. His other set of fingers were steadily sliding in and out of Kathy's pale blonde genitals.
I walked over to Jannie. She'd finally ceased her sensual gyrations. She was pouting in neglected envy, looking over at where Bruce Mackley was necking with Nancy Krueger while he finger fucked her, then at Bobby so busily preoccupied by the pair of passionate babes.
"I guess we're a man or two short," I said. "Do you want me to call someone, Jeannie?"
She shrugged, eyeing up my figure. "We can do it to each other until we come up with a better idea, Martha."
So we went into one of the other bedrooms. I stripped. Jeannie had ajlready tugged down her sweat-dampened white undies. She was sprawled on the mattress, waiting for me to join her there.
I got down on top of her. We squeezed at each other's breasts. I liked seeing the creamy secretions well from her heavy pink nipples and dribble down the chocolate spheres of her 40-inch boobs.
Jeannie moaned, milking away at my dangling orifices. She raised up to take long, searching sucks at first one nipple and then the other tingling coral tip of aroused flesh.
"I reached for the bedside extension phone. Just keep drinking. I've thought of who I can call," I told her.
Frank Buelow answered on the third ring. I gave him the address, then softly added, "You won't need any money. Not tonight. The party's on me, this time. Hurry over, will you?"
Jeannie took the receiver from me. She moaned into it, saying, "You'll have two of us to fuck right away when you get here. Mmm, we'll save you some sweet, warm milk, too!"
As she cradled the olive green receiver, I squirmed down so I could begin coaxing cunnilingus to her lavish ebony loins. Her innermost flesh was a delicate pink that bubbled with pungent feminine odors.
She gasped, going off before she could return the oral sex intimacies. After her orgasm, she made up for lost time, driving her coarse tongue swiftly in and out of my throbbing slit.
Bruce Mackley lumbered into the room. He had Nancy with him. His right hand was hugged along the nude crack of her backside. Her head was resting on his burly bare shoulder as they took in our torrid involvement.
Jeannie gasped, gulping more wildly at my loins. She'd gone off again. I couldn't seem to get started, though, no matter how hard I strained in striving for erotic release. It simply wasn't the same, doing it with another woman.
There were traces of creamy secretion dribbling from the puckered tips of Nancy's breasts. She smiled at me, still idly toying with Bruce's tremendous-sized cock.
"I can see you need a taste of this before you can unwind, Martha," she said, leading her gigantic lover toward the bed by tugging at his semi-rigid penis. She smiled up at Bruce, saying, "Go ahead, big boy. You've already blasted me. Now, give Martha a few licks, why don't you?"
Jeannie pushed unsteadily up from between my upper thighs. At sight of the white man's brandished sex shaft, she drooled, moaning in plaintive supplications.
"Ooh, umm! Lemme lick it first!" she begged, elbowing me aside as Bruce got down on the bed. She seized his genitals. He chuckled indulgently. He came down to brush his bearded lips over my well-lubricated blonde loins.
"There's gonna be more than enough to go around," he happily mumbled. "Let her have the first suck, baby. Meanwhile, I'll bring you off. Just spread it and relax, Martha.
Nancy looked down at my breasts. She moaned, moving in so her mouth could brush over both nipples. "Ohh, they're so big and delicious! Would you care if I squeeze and suck at them, Martha?"
I smiled up at her. "Of course not, Nancy. I'll play with yours, too." As she bent over me, I took her breasts in my hands and started milking at them.
Bruce brought me to the orgasm that had kept eluding me. As my vagina exploded with fiery sensations, Jeannie flopped on the mattress beside me, panting from her sizzling fellatio exertions to Bruce's big penis.
"Ooh, stick that husky sausage into my meat grinder!" she implored. Her fingertips pried at the entrance to her cunt. She made her hole stretch to about ten times its normal size.
Bruce raised up from my pleasurably-quivering crack. He took one look at the colored gal's inviting wet pink hollow and he promptly hopped aboard.
Nancy and I paused in our petting exercises. We watched his huge pecker become enveloped by Jeannie's innermost femininity. The sight of their coital thrusts sent Nancy into sex-starved sobs of wanting.
"Ohh, I've got to have something shoved in and out of my slit!" she said, her lust-brightened eyes casting about the bedroom for some suitable object.
I reached down for one of my discarded sandals. It had a long, tapered toe. I pushed it into contact with Nancy's furiously-lubricating vagina. She gave a grateful little cry and fell on top of me so that the inserted leather shoe slipped deeply inside her cunt. She went off again and again while we sucked ravenously at each other's breasts.
Frank Buelow came in just as Bruce was ejaculating within the near-swooning Negro girl's torrid sex tunnel.
Nancy rushed over to the middle-age male. She covered his surprised face with a passionate barrage of kisses, guiding his hands to her naked crotch. Frank groaned, drilling both hands into her enlarged vagina. Nancy moaned in highly-titillated delight, experiencing another throbbing series of orgasms.
Bruce chuckled, witnessing the writhing young blonde babe's uninhibited welcoming of the older guy. He tweaked tenderly at my nipples, saying. "That Nancy acts like she hasn't been properly fucked in months."
"Maybe, she hasn't. She and Dave Barlow broke up after our New Years Eve fun-fest, you know." I glanced around to see how Jeannie had survived her fabulous fornication involvement with Bruce. She was limply flopped on her back. Her eyes were shut. Her nude ebony boobs were steadily rising and falling as she rested, recovering her breath.
Frank Buelow had finally managed to remove his slacks and undershorts. He was behind Nancy, pumping his rigid pecker in and out of her slowly undulating backside.
Bruce commenced sucking at my reactivated nipples. I kept getting hotter and hotter. Finally, I asked if he'd mind switching back to between my legs. He gave each of my surging breasts a final guzzle, then crawled down so he could watch the palpitations of my cunt as he easily pushed a trio of big fingers back and forth amid my clinging pink flesh.
No one bothered to get dressed when we eventually paused to rest and returned to the living room for another round of martinis.
Bill Weber grinned at me, walking over to where I was standing. He handed me one of the drinks he'd picked up from the portable bar. He ran his free hand along the shower-dampened slit between my nude thighs, saying, "A nice party, Martha. I'm glad you thought to invite me over tonight."
"What excuse did you give your wife?"
"Oh, I just told her the postal inspector was in town and that I'd been asked to help get the records in order."
"What if she phones the post office?"
He sipped at his martini. His left hand was still in my crotch, rubbing lightly over my thatch of tawny pubic hair. "She knows better than that. We don't ever answer the phones at the post office after the window service closes for the day."
Bobby Flath had flipped over the stack of stereo LP records. The familiar strains of popular show tunes filtered softly through the new ranch style house.
Lois Griffin sauntered across the room, smiling at Bill. Her dark reddish hair was swirled around her flushed young features. She stared pointedly at Bill's dormant genitals.
"Watsa matter? No lead left in your pencil?"
Bill laughed. He downed the rest of his drink and handed me his empty glass. He reached for the jutting curves of the semi-intoxicated babe's breasts.
"Lotsa lead, baby. First, I'm still thirsty, though. How you fixed for fresh milk, hmm?"
Lois moaned, stretching up on her tiptoes. "Ohh, just try me!"
Bill had a partial erection as he started casually sucking at those taut, cherry-tipped attributes. Lois looked triumphantly at me. I stepped in behind Bill. I lowered my unfinished drink between his legs and brought it up so his enlarged penis got ducked in the martini.
He gasped, grabbing for his genitals as he involuntarily urinated. I laughed, dodging aside at his outraged grabs for me. He started laughing, too. So kid Kathy Howell who had observed that playful bit of mischief.
Lois wasn't laughing, though. She scowled, staring down at the wasted milk still dribbling from her unsatisfied boobs.
Gail Sommers had tucked her artificial hand into Jeannie Patterson's wiry, dark-haired snatch. Both girls were busily engaged in kissing and sucking at each other's breasts where they stood in the far corner of the crowded, noise-filled living room.
Bobby Flath came over to me. He took the pair of cocktail globblets and put them back on the mahogany bar. Returning to me and Kathy, he said, "Look, I've been away in jail so Long I'm having a little trouble getting another hard on. Will you girls help me out?"
Kathy smiled, kneeling. She took hold of his uncooperative genitals. While she deftly massaged at his sex organ, Bobby tipped me upside down and help me by both ankles. He groaned, studying my separated loins for a minute before descending to begin slow, savoring cunnilingus.
"Ooh, my volcano is-about to erupt!" I gasped, giggling up at him through my tumbled mass of golden blonde hair.
Frank Buelow hurried over and got down on the carpeting so he could reach my suspended breasts. He fitted his mouth to one brimming nipple. Even as he was settling comfortably for a prolonged suck fest, Gail Sommers pounced on him, straddling him so her hole came smoothly down over his rigid penis.
Just as quickly, Jeannie Patterson eased down so she could wriggled in between Kathy's crouched thighs. She launched a lavishing flurry of cunnilingus upon Kathy's parted vagina while her hands milked at Gail's responsive boobs.
Bruce Mackley waited for Nancy Krueger to sprawl on top of the voluptuous colored girl. After Nancy started enjoying both manual and oral masturbation intimacies with Jeannie's cunt, Bruce stabbed his immense sex shaft into Nancy's upended buttocks, penetrating her rectum.
Bill Weber got down on the carpeting and crawled beneath Nancy. He pulled her around so he could get at her breasts. Even Lois got over her mad. She towered her nude chassis to the floor and seized Bill's bulging masculinity. She moaned, commencing fervent fellatio.
Everyone went off almost simultaneously about fifteen minutes later. I guess Kathy started it by getting to enthused in her oral sex contacts with Bobby's cock.
Only Bill couldn't achieve an ejaculation. Lois rolled over on her back so he could climb on top of her and sink his hardened prick into her clamoring cunt. He rubbed it urgently against her clitoris so she went off again and again.
I felt sorry for Bill. He was drenched with determined sweat. I blamed myself for the problem he was having. If I hadn't dunked his thing in my martini, he might have been in better sexual shape.
So, I walked over to him began rubbing my boobs back and forth over his face. He grinned up at me in grateful awareness of what I was trying to do for him.
"Let me lick at your crack, Martha!" he hoarsely implored.
I shifted around so he could press his flaring features into my crotch. That did it. He'd no sooner started his awkward cunnilingus than I heard both Bill and Lois gasp in gratified acclaim.
The hell of it was, in helping them, I'd aroused myself to a tense, knotted nervous status. My hole throbbed in unfilfilled torment. I searched the room for sight of someone who could bring me to orgasm.
They were all limp and sagging around the carpeting in depleted disregard for my plight. So, I dug my fingertips into my loins, closing my eyes as
I strained to go off. No good. No use. It simply wouldn't happen that way.
Frank Buelow finally opened his eyes. I was standing near where his middle-aged frame was sprawled. I stepped over him, straddling him. As I bent my knees, he raised up. His hands crept cozily into my crotch. He groaned, gouging at my bubbling inner flesh. He lunged up, commencing inspired cunnilingus. I panted with rejoicing release but he wouldn't quit. The more his lips and tongue laced at my most sensitive flesh, the hotter I got again!
"Ohh, aghh! Uhh-my-heart!" Frank suddenly blurted. He fell back to the carpeting, clutching at his naked chest, his body jerking and twitching in horrible anguish.
"Geez! Somebody call a doctor!" Bobby Flath yelled, springing up from where he'd resumed sucking at Kathy's breasts.
Bruce Mackley rushed over. His big hands swooped down. He carried the older man into the nearest bedroom. I saw that Frank was turning purple. His watery eyes were bulging and his labored breaths were constricted wheezes.
Bruce reached into the suffering man's mouth and yanked out the loosened denture plates that had been chocking Frank.
We both heaved trembling sighs of vast relief as Frank relaxed and his natural color was gradually restored.
All of the others were gone.
"Isn't that just like people?" Bruce growled. He lit a cigarette and passed it to me. He lit another smoke for himself. Our hands were shaking so badly that we had difficulty guiding the cigarettes to our lips.
"They were scared," I said. My voice sounded muffled and quivery. I managed a distraught smile at Bruce. "So am I."
"He'll be okay, now. We're lucky it was only a light stroke. We'll let him rest in there for another hour or so. Then, I'll drive him to wherever he lives."
"I'll go with you. I know the address."
Bruce nodded. His eyes swept over my nude figure. "Think you could stand a little screwing while we're waiting, Martha?"
I walked to the bar. There was just enough martini mixed to fill two glasses. I slid one of the drinks to Bruce, saying, "In a minute, honey. Let's finish our smokes and get relaxed with these martinis, first."
We looked in on Frank Buelow on our way into one of the other bedrooms. He was resting comfortably beneath the sheets. His false teeth were on the nightstand beside the bed.
Bruce drew me against him as he led us into the adjacent room. His big hand bunched reassuringly at my boobs.
"He's okay. Stretch out, baby. I'll help you get unwound."
I got down on the mattress. Bruce lowered his husky frame so I could occupy my still-trembling hands by playing with his genitals. He massaged at my cunt with gentle, rhythmic rubs. His mouth closed over one of my nipples and sucked steadily, drawing creamy secretions in warm, tingling abundance.
More than an hour elapsed. We clinched in the traditional coital coupling. His hands hugged up at my backside as our loins bucked together, making sensual, sucking slaps.
Bruce ejaculated generously, bringing me to orgasm, too.
"Take your shower. I'll get the old gaffer dressed," Bruce instructed as we climbed off the disordered bed.
Half an hour later, we sat in his air-conditioned Cadillac and watched Frank Buelow shuffle wearily up the front porch steps of his home.
"Do you think he'll be all right?" I anxiously asked.
Bruce patted my knees. "Yeah. I'd say he's had his last hard on, though." He drove us back to the model home. He didn't come in with me. He told me he'd be back to see me the next night and that I should get a good night's sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gordon opened the door in response to my ring the following Wednesday evening.
"Well, well! How are you, Martha? Come on in!"
"Hello, Gordon. Am I late? Mother said seven o'clock but I couldn't get on a bus until nearly then. The taxis were all busy, too."
He closed the door as I strode into the apartment.
"Barbara asked me to entertain you until she gets home. At the last minute, her boss told her they had to finish some sort of annual budget request analysis." He locked the door and removed the key from the lock, slipping it into the patch pocket of his velvet blue smocking jacket.
"Oh? What time will she be getting here?" I wasn't scared. Even seeing the raw, malevolent lust glinting in Gordon's blue eyes, I wasn't afraid of him.
He shrugged, moving away from the door. "Oh maybe around nine or so. We'll go out for dinner. If you're very hungry, I suppose I can scrounge up the ingredients for a sandwich to tide you over."
I shook my head, slowly retreating as he stalked amiably toward me. My hands were behind my back. I opened my clutch handbag and fumbled inside. I found the cold metallic surface of the small but heavy .22 calibre pistol Bruce Mackley had purchased for me.
"It's odd she didn't phone me direct. I wouldn't have had to hurry so much."
"I was supposed to call you after she called me. But I thought we could amuse one another for a couple hours."
"That's close enough." I confronted him with the cocked target pistol.
Gordon's forehead formed puzzled furrows of surprise at sight of the small handgun I had aimed at his stomach. At a range of less than 6 feet, there was no chance the bullet would miss its mark.
"All right, baby." He stopped walking toward me. His arms danged at his sides. He smiled, eyeing up my figure. "You don't need that popgun, though. I asure you I won't lay a hand on you. That is, not until you beg me fuck you, Martha. And, you will"
I laughed at him. The gun didn't waver.
"That will be the day!"
"Do you know how many girls I've fucked, Mar tha? At least fifty different women. Some of them were married. They all told me the same thing. That I fuck much better than any man they've ever tried. And most of them had been screwed by dozens of men."
"What makes you so different?"
"Ah, that's a clever question! You are getting curious about me, aren't you?"
"Not very."
"You should have asked Barbara. You see, I have the remarkable facility of immediate recuperation, sexually."
Again, I laughed at him.
"Who do you think you're kidding? Are you claiming you can keep a hard on? That you can go off time after time without your pecker getting soft in between times?"
Gordon carefully moved his hands to the fly zipper of the slacks he wore under the expensive smocking jacket. He unzipped his pants and extracted his penis. It was big but totally limp.
"Would you mind using your other hand to haul up your skirt, Martha?"
I tossed the clutch purse to the sofa without taking my eyes off his unaroused sex shaft. I reached down for the hem of my beige suit dress and lifted it.
"What does this do for you?"
Gordon stared at the crotch of my panties. They were white. I knew that my dark blonde pubic bush showed through the wispy rayon fabric.
His sex organ began to swell into rigid prominence. He smiled, saying, "The effects are obvious. May I come closer so you can masturbate me?"
I tightened my index finger curled around the trigger of the pistol. He was correct. I was becoming increasingly curious. Also mildly excited by sight of his huge, classical genitals.
"Sure. Just don't make any sudden moves."
Gordon took two measured, careful forward strides. He clasped his hands behind his back, saying, "The next move is yours, sweetheart. See if you can jack me off."
I released my upraised skirt and started to reach for his aroused sex organ.
Then, I stopped with my fingertips a scant inch from that swollen enticement.
I knew I was lost once I made physical contact with Gordon's thing.
My beloved Mother trusted me.
She would never forgive me if I swapped sexual favors with the younger man she'd married.
But I had to call Gordon's bluff. Once I learned he'd lied about his sexual prowess, I could easily stay away from him. Right then, the thought of his claimed abilities to maintain coital functions through successive ejaculations greatly intrigued me.
My fingers moved decisively ahead. I grasped his firm, warm penis. A tingle of excited anticipation coursed through me. I started stroking. While I kept up my masturbation efforts, the tiny .22 calibre pistol centered on Gordon's guts.
He groaned, enjoying my caressing touches. But he didn't go off.
I knelt and switched to fellatio.
Gordon gasped in warning. I quickly wrapped the hem of my beige skirt around his penis and jerked at it. He had a violent ejaculation.
"Ohh, baby! That felt good!"
I came up from my crouch, staring at his hairy genitals. His sex shaft had momentarily gone down in its rigid bigness but was already bulging with replenished vitality.
With a low moan of sensual admiration, I flipped the unfired pistol to the sofa beside my purse. "Ohh, why didn't you tell me about this before, Gordon? If I'd known you were as insatiable as I am, I wouldn't have fought you! I can see now you're too much man for Mother!"
He chuckled, pulling down the long back zipper of my suit dress as he led us across the apartment and into what had formerly been my bedroom. He peeled off my dress. Then, while I hurriedly skimmed from my undergarments, he took off his clothes.
"So you like the trick I can do with my prick, eh?"
"Mmm, but yes!"
He came over and cupped at the nude fullness of my breasts. His penis brushed back and forth across my tawny tangle of pubic hair.
"Which way do you want it first, baby?"
"Ohh, right in the cunt!"
"Okay. Get down on your back."
I couldn't get sprawled on the mattress fast enough!
Gordon climbed on top of me and sank his husky, hooded penis into my hot, clinging hole. He bunched at my breasts, making milk surge from both taut pink nipples.
"Ooh, I-I'm going off!" I joyously whispered, smiling up at his handsome countenance.
He sped up his thrusts and ejaculated even as my innermost flesh flared in spasming release.
"Now let's try the back slit, Martha. Get on your hands and knees. I'll take it from there."
I pushed up and assumed the position he'd suggested. I shivered in receptive delight, feeling his rigid penis push easily inside my rectum. His hands came up and around me as he pumped with slow, savoring strokes at anal intercourse. His fingers lifted and squeezed at my brimming nipples.
Gordon grunted with gratification as he went off heavily within my thrilled buttocks. He didn't stop, though. His pecker went semi-soft but then became sturdy and sliced vigorously In and out of my rectum
"Ooh, umm! Start slipping one hand in and out of my cunt!" I feverishly implored.
He released one spurting tit and plowed his entire hand inside my vagina. I had an orgasm, then another and yet another throbbing climax. Gordon went off a few minutes later. We took a shower together and neither of us could even wait until we could get back to the bedroom. He squatted between my damp white thighs and performed lusty cunnilingus upon my tingling loins. As we walked back to the bedroom, Gordon gulped greedily at one nipple while I stroked urgently at his swollen genitals.
We fell into the 69 position. We were having at it with wanton abandon when Mother staggered into the doorway and cried out in piercing anguish.
I jumped up, staring at her battered, bloodied naked form. She clutched at the doorframe, almost collapsing as she focused piteously on me.
"Y-You couldn't keep away from him, could you?" Mother dully accused. It was difficult for her to talk. Both of her lips were brutally bashed and bleeding. One eye was blackened and so puffed from the battering effects of a fist that she couldn't see out of it. Both of her nude breasts bore gruesome gashes where they had been whipped by Gordon's belt buckle.
He sighed, easing his husky frame off the rumpled bed. "I thought I had you salted away for the night, Barbara."
Mother regarded his advancing bigness with mute, pleading horror.
"No! Don't you hurt her any more!" I shrieked. I couldn't move. All I could do was stand stark naked on the opposite side of the bed, watching him cock his right fist.
Gordon clucked, shaking his head, holding his fist poised for delivery. "I'll make this merciful. She won't feel a thing."
Mother blinked through her good eye, looking at me over her sadistic mate's shoulder. "It's you who have hurt me, Martha! How could you betray me like this?" she hollowly indicted.
"M-Mother, please! I-"
Before I could beg for her forgiveness and try to make her understand how cruelly we'd both been tricked, Gordon's fist crunched into the point of her jaw.
He caught her as she fell. Dragging her back to her bedroom, he hoisted her beaten body to the mattress and dropped her sagging, inert weight.
He saw rushing toward the sofa.
With a startled oath, he dashed from the bedroom and scooped up the .22 calibre target pistol before I could grab it.
"Take it easy, baby! You aren't going to shoot anyone!"
I sprang at him. My raking fingernails sought to scratch out his eyes. He leaped back, reversing his grip on the gun. He brought down the butt in a sharp rap to my temple.
I oozed to the carpeting. I wasn't unconscious. Only briefly stunned.
Gordon tossed the pistol back on the sofa. He bent down and picked me up in his muscular arms. He carried me back to the bedroom where we had united in such deliciously searing sex liberties.
"You-bastard! You vicious, slimy beast!"
He dropped over me. His mouth crushed mine, stifling my heated shrieks of revilement.
His hands traveled roughly over my naked body. His prying fingers explored my loins and gouged into my backside. All the time, he kept necking me, moaning in hoarse, urgent passion.
I lost contact with reality. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him fiercely against me. My lips responded wildly to his. I flung open my legs, raising them so he could better massage my aroused genitals.
"Ohh, suck my tits!" I whimpered. "Ohh, hurry Please! They feel like they will explode if you don't ease the pounding pressures.
Gordon's mouth fitted forcibly to the nearest raging coral nipple. He sucked it again and again, bringing instant relief to the clamoring orifice. As he applied his lips, tongue and nipping teeth to my other pulsating boob, I sighed in grateful ecstasy.
We fucked for almost an hour in various coital positions. Gordon was tiring rapidly by then. He blinked, using the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat burning his eyes. We both looked in surprised dismay at the bruised, badly chafed condition of his dangling penis. No matter what we did, we couldn't get it hard again.
He brought me to a final orgasm with his fingers. Then, he collapsed on the bed beside me, too utterly spent to even suck at my replenished pink nipples.
There was a shot from the living room.
I hurried out and saw my mother grotesquely sprawled on the sofa. The target pistol had fallen from her lifeless fingers.
I stood numbly above her nude body.
Gordon summoned the police.
The police coroner completed his examination. He signalled for the waiting pair of ambulance attendants. They transferred my mother's corpse to a stretcher and carried her from the apartment.
"She died instantly, Miss Ross," quietly said the young coroner. His eyes were sympathetic behind his dark-rimmed glasses.
Gordon stood at my side with his strong arm around me. Otherwise, I might have fallen, so great and terrible were the shock waves that swept over me. It wasn't until then that I realized my mother was dead. I began to cry and Gordon gripped more firmly at my hysterically-convulsing form.
The single .22 calibre bullet had entered Mother's brain. There was no question that her tragic death was suicide.
None of the newspaper stories mentioned the sordid circumstances surrounding her self-inflicted slaying. I don't know why unless it was due to the nice-looking young coroner's influence.
His name was David Miller. Naturally, he was married. All of the really decent, attractive men are.
He came to visit me at the model home in the new housing development the day after the funeral.
CHAPTER NINE
"How can I ever thank you for all you've done for me, David?" I asked, taking both of his cool, well-kept hands in mine. I drew him into the living room.
He waited for me to get seated on the sofa before he sat down beside me. He smiled. His fingertips gently caressed my hands.
"I sold that target pistol you wanted me to dispose of, Martha. Remind me to give you the money before I leave."
I leaned over and brushed my lips over his. "Mmm, you smell nice. What brand of men's cologne do you use?"
He named the brand but I didn't pay attention to the name. The real truth was, I found the aroma rather nauseating.
We just sat there and talked for a while. I offered to mix drinks. David declined, explaining that he was still on duty. It was obvious that he had something on his mind. I waited, knowing that sooner or later he'd get around to the main purpose of his visit.
About an hour after his arrival, he got up and took out his billfold. He handed me a bunch of crisp new bills. They were all tens and twenties. A hundred dollars.
"Thirty of that's for the gun," he said. He was staring down at the curves of my breasts against the low-necked bodice of my floral paisley blouse.
"Oh? And what's this other seventy for?"
He reached down for me. He pulled me up from the sofa. His arms went around me. I felt the nicely disturbing nudges of his erected penis.
"Martha, I've wanted to fuck you ever since the other night when I first saw you."
I frowned "Please, David You shouldn't talk that way."
He tightened his embrace. His closed over mine. He was really getting steamed up. "It's the truth. I can't keep how I feel bottled up any longer."
"Then, I guess we'd better do something about your feelings." I kissed him, carefully removed his dark --rimmed glasses. I placed them on the step table next to the sectional sofa. "Come on."
We walked into the master bedroom. David stood watching me take off my skirt and unbutton my lightweight blouse. His vision was even poorer with out those spectacles than I'd thought. He stuck his near-sighted eyes almost on top of the ruby tips of my unclad breasts.
"My wife Carol a size 36B bra. I thought her nipples were extra-large. But yours are even twice as big."
I pushed the heel of my hand under the liberated contour of the breast closest to his mouth. "You do want to suck them, don't you, David?"
"Ohh, yes! Yes! May I?"
"Of course. I want you to."
He beamed in boyish delight. He eagerly opened his lips and dragged in my taut nipple. It required only the lightest of pressures to start the creamy contents of that pulsating pink tip flowing into his mouth.
David spent the next hour sucking at my breasts. I glanced at the electric alarm clock on the beside stand. It was after 4:00 P. M. already. Gordon would be driving in at any moment.
Gently pushing David up from his prolonged partaking, I slipped down my sheer hot pink panties, saying, "I'm afraid we'll have to continue this tomorrow. Would you like to go off inside my hole before you leave?"
He sighed, peering at my emptied boobs. "If you don't mind too much, I'd rather save my meagre supply of sperm until tomorrow afternoon, Martha. You see, I can only achieve an erection twice a week and I've already done it once this week with Carol."
Looking down at his shriveled sex organ, I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. I moved back, guiding the rosily tipped abundance of one breast back to his waiting mouth.
"In that case, we don't consider this anything but a dry run today. That seventy dollars entitles you to a full scale sex session tomorrow and to another two times next week."
He guzzled at my numbed, depleted nipples for another five minutes. Then thanking me for my patience and understanding, he got dressed and left.
David had just driven off when Gordon Clarke swerved his newly-acquired T-bird into the graveled driveway.
I was soaking in the sudsy brine when Gordon entered the bathroom and grinned down at me.
"Hiya, baby! Hey who was that four-eyed yokel I spotted streaking away just as I turned the corner?"
"That was the assistant to the assistant coroner," I murmured, relaxing in the well-filled tub. Some bubbles clung to the high, firm curves of my boobs. Gordon reached down and play fully popped the bubbles.
"That's who I thought he was. What did he want?"
"What all you guys always want."
Gordon chuckled, kneeling beside the tub. He picked up the washcloth and ran it between my upraised thighs. Pushing the warm, wet rag into my cunt, he said, "I can see he did plenty of sucking at these luscious boobs. How come you let him suck you black and blue?"
"I figured we owed it to him. He could have been a stinker, finding Mother all beaten up like she was that night."
Gordon's good-natured grin disappeared. He got up, abandoning his intimacies with the washcloth, leaving it partially stuffed inside my vagina.
"We agreed not to mention that night."
I wasn't smiling, either. "You asked me a question. I answered it."
"How much longer are you going to be in there?"
"I just got in. You know I like to soak for at least half an hour. Why don't you fix us some martinis?"
He shrugged. "If you want, I will. Right now, that's not what I'm thirsty for."
I reached down and withdrew the inserted washcloth. Squeezing it out, I rolled it up into some resemblance of a male penis. I smiled, closing my eyes as I guided it back to my submerged loins. I began rubbing it slowly in and out of my vagina, concentrating on drawing it back and forth across my clitoris.
"You'll just have to wait until I finish my bath," I said.
Gordon stalked wordlessly from the bathroom. He left the door open. I kept pushing the washcloth amid my loins. I enjoyed a moderate orgasm that was followed by a swift succession of similar climaxes. It was getting so that I had to go off by one means or another at least a dozen times each day.
Gordon brought in a martini. He lit a cigarette for himself and stood sullenly beside the tub, watching me sip at the drink.
Finally, he said, "I'm moving out, Martha. After tonight."
I smiled, idly twirling the cocktail goblet in my hands. "Bruce won't be back for another week. Why the sudden hurry? Are you getting tired of me so soon?"
"You know it's not that. It just isn't right. Martha.
We're a couple of hopeless sex addicts. If we keep on like this, we'll destroy each other."
"It isn't bothering me. When have I ever refused to let you fuck me?" I took another sip of the ultradry martini. Making dry martinis was one of the things Gordon did best.
"That's just, it You want it all the time."
"Don't you?"
"Sure. But I try to keep my sex urges under control. When I'm off on an auditing job, away from you, I get by without having problems. But the minute I walk in here and look at you, I get a hard on."
Draining the last of the drink, I reached out to hand him the empty glass. He took it. He stayed where he was, watching me arise from the soapy depths of the tub.
I stepped out onto the soft thickness of the bath mat. "As long as you're still around, you can dry my back."
He put the glass on top of the toilet tank. He tugged the large green towel from the chrome bar beside the lavatory sink and started blotting it to my nude back and shoulders.
His bristling sex shaft poked against the crevice of my buttocks. Gordon caught sharply at his breath, jerking away from the accidental encounter.
"Here. You finish drying yourself," he muttered. He hurried out of the bathroom.
I took hold of the dampish dark green towel he'd dropped over my ivory shoulder. I smiled to myself, rubbing the soft texture of the towel over my dripping contours.
I hated Gordon Clarke with a deep, eternal vehemence.
He was right. If we continued as lovers, eventually, one of us would be destroyed. It wouldn't be me, though. I knew I was stronger than Gordon. That in another few days of frenzied, over-passionate sex deviations, I'd succeed in converting the man who had killed my darling Mother into an impotent, guilt-ridden hulk.
I picked up the martini glass he'd forgotten on top of the toilet. I excited from the bathroom, moving with graceful assurance through the carpeted rooms.
Gordon turned to stonily stare at my lush, naked endowments as I entered the kitchen. I rinsed out the glass, placing it on the formica countertop. I gazed through the window above the sink.
Diminishing glints of crimson sunlight bathed my opulent ivory breasts. I sensed that Gordon had reluctantly shuffled over to stand directly behind me.
I waited. His resistance was almost gone.
His hands came up to close roughly over my breasts. "Damn you! can't I leave you alone?"
I ignored the punishing pressures of his fingers, the savage thrusts of his penis against my bare backside.
"Who told you to leave me alone?" I mildly queried. I kept smiling hs I looked out at the shadowy stretches of grass dotted by other new homes, shrubs, gardens and trees.
Gordon scooped me up off the floor and lugged me into the bedroom. He flung my relaxed form down on the mattress. He ripped from his clothing, then dived down to commit searing cunnilingus.
I laughed, squirming on the bedspread to widen the upraised channel of my soft white inner thighs. I reached down to press his submerged head more fully into wolfish, sex-starved contacts with my hot, bubbling femininity.
Bobby Flath and Jeannie Patterson arrived about an hour later and let themselves in just as I'd told them to.
Gordon was on top of me when I spotted the young Negro couple observing our sex antics from the bedroom doorway.
"Oh, hi!" I gaily called out in welcome. "Your timing is perfect! Get stripped and hop aboard with us!"
Jeannie was already unzipping her bright yellow cotton dress.
Bobby grinned at Gordon as the older white male pumping his pecker inside my vagina paused, winging a startled look at the colored pair.
"Don't mind us none, buddy," Bobby cordially said, dropping his denim pants. "You keep right on fucking. We'll catch up, won't we, Jeannie-doll?"
"You just know it!" Jeannie agreed. She'd unstrapped her white brassiere. Slipping the cups from her light chocolate boobs tipped by huge raspberry nipples, she advanced toward the bed.
Gordon had frozen in his act of vigorous fornication. As if in a scowling, disbelieving daze, he watched Jeannie get on the mattress. She smiled at him, moving in on her knees, lifting both of her 40-inch pacifiers. She pushed her nearest nipple against Gordon's mouth.
"Have yourself a few yummy squirts of warm, fresh cream, honey," she generously offered.
Bobby got on the bed. He sank his hands into Jeannie's cunt and backside. His mouth came down over my taut, uptilting boobs.
With a hoarse outcry of mingled bigotry and sexual loathing, Gordon wrenched up from our copulation. His penis was completely limp, swinging loosely between his hefty white thighs as he glared down at our naked entanglement.
"Have you no shame?" he yelled at me. "Tell that dirty nigger to quit sucking your pure white tits!"
Jeannie giggled, rolling over so her hands could reach out and seize Gordon's genitals. She caught him off-balance. She pulled him down on top of her. Her thick, sensual red mouth took up a torrid flurry of urgent fellatio.
Gordon gasped, going off before he could help himself. He staggered up from the bed, blinking in badly shaken awareness of the intolerable act of sexual perversion he was involved in despite his deep-rooted racial prejudices.
Bobby had hopped on top of me, steering his aroused sex shaft into my vagina. I panted, writhing with sublime pleasure. As he ejaculated profusely, my moaning sobs of passion became joyous, receiving gasps.
Jeannie arched her nude backside, her dark fingertips spreading at her poised wetly-glistening pink cunt.
"Oooh, come on, big boy! Just try a taste of this!"
Gordon stared straight down into her enlarged vagina. His lips twisted in a sickened grimace. He whirled, running blindly from the bedroom.
He was gone for good as quickly as he could scramble into his clothes and gather up his belongings.
As the front door slammed with a sound of sharp finality, Bobby had just finished bringing Jeannie to orgasm by means of his rapidly-thrusting trio of long, penetrating fingers.
He blew out a wearied breath, flexing his tiring hands. He grinned down at me, saying, "Is that the way you wanted it to happen, Martha?"
I smiled up at Bobby. "Pretty much. I was hoping he'd stick around and suffer a few days longer but I guess this clean, quick break is better."
Jeannie's dark, lovely eyes were still closed and her sensual soft lips were blissfully smiling. "Mmm, he had such a cute cock. Too bad he won't never be able to get a hard on again after today."
"He got what he deserved," I told them. I climbed off the rumpled bedspread. I went into the living room and poured drinks for us. The ice chips had melted in the martini pitcher but the contents were still suitably chilled.
Bobby and Jeannie came out. They hadn't bothered with clothes, either. We enjoyed out unhurried refreshments and smoked cigarettes.
CHAPTER TEN
It was no good.
David Miller groaned in combined anguish and pleased gratification, going off inside my vagina for his fifth time that weekend. He'd far surpassed his usual sex limitations.
As for me, I had yet to have even one orgasm.
We were staying at a motel just out of the city. David had attended college with the owner. There wasn't any charge for our use of unit 26. The understanding was that I'd stay on after David left.
Watching him cruise off into the late Sunday night darkness, I wondered what sort of guy would be coming in to claim his just desserts?
It didn't take long for me to find out.
Floyd Hudstrom turned out to be a fat, short-legged pervert.
He grinned at me as he let himself in. Turning to lock the motel door, he giggled girlishly. A high-pitched, whinnying bleat of warped amusement.
Ambling across the softly illuminated room to where I stood clad in only a filmy pale green chemise, Floyd pulled down his fly zipper and groped for his penis.
"Stand still, angel honey," he instructed. Then, that shrill, tittering giggle again.
He urinated all over the front of my new silken chemise.
Feeling the scalding wetness of his foul-smelling urine soak through the fabric and stain my nude skin, I stared at the toady-faced fairy in petrified loathing.
"Of all the crazy things!" I finally gasped. I ripped off the ruined green chemise and flung it violently into that smug, fat-puffed face.
He chirped in smothered relish, snuggling and sucking at the sodden garment wrapped around his swart, pock-marked features.
"Get down on the floor, baby."
I frowned, slowly shaking my head. "Not when there's a perfectly good bed in the room, I won't. Besides, before I do anything, I want to know what you intend to do."
Floyd sighed, pulling the piss-soaked fabric away from his fleshy jowls. He dropped it to the carpeting. He shuffled toward me. His beady little black eyes bored over the naked proportions of my figure.
"David said you were all set up for me. That you go for all sorts of sex kicks."
"I do. Within reason. But I don't like being used as a pissing post, I can tell you that!"
"Okay. I'll pay you a hundred bucks for an hour of doing what I like to you, Martha. That is your name, isn't it?"
"Yes. Aren't you at all interested in straight sex, Floyd? If you are, then keep your money. I'm badly in need of a decent fucking."
He sighed again, shaking his grotesque, gnome-like head. He stepped from his rumpled trousers. He took off his sport shirt, then dropped his dirty white knit briefs.
"As you can see, I'm half and half," he calmly advised.
I looked in horrified fascination at the first morphodite I'd ever seen.
Floyd had a pair of flabby but definitely female breasts capped by huge dark pink nipples.
Hidden amid his coarse black growth of pubic hair was a piteously under-sized set of male genitals. His penis was practically non-existent; less than half an inch long and about as thick.
"I don't want your money," I whispered, glancing quickly away so I wouldn't exhibit the stricken, sickened revulsion I felt.
He took another unhurried stride. Rather, it did. It was of neither gender.
"Please. You can caress and kiss at my breasts, Martha. While you're doing that, I'll use my fingers to bring you to an orgasm."
I shut my eyes. With shuddering unwillingness, I lowered my head. My mouth brushed blindly over foul-smelling flesh until I'd located one of those hideous nipples.
Fingers pushed crudely up into my crack. They began lacing awkwardly in and out of my innermost flesh.
"Ugh! Uhh, ugh!" I suddenly gasped, receiving a vile surge of substance from those malformed breasts. I wrenched clear of that wretched mass of flab, tearing the inserted fingers out from inside my flinching cunt. "I-it's no use! I simply can't stay with you!"
Floyd lowered its balding skull and charged.
I wasn't expecting such an abrupt attack. I couldn't dodge aside. That battering-ram skull slammed into my nude belly. All the breath whooshed from my pinwheeling body as I banged off one paneled wall and toppled to the carpeting, writhing in double-up agony.
Floyd kicked me in the face with its bare foot.
I peered up through red waves of pain, retching and gasping desperately for air.
"Uhh! Uhh, umm, mmm!" Floyd was squatting above me so that its flabby backside was postured over my pain-contorted face. He kept grunting and straining. I stared up in helpless incredulity.
He had the bowel movement he was so fiercely striving to achieve.
I heard the soft, fetid plops. My eyes were blinded. My cringing nostrils were filled with that stink of disgorged human manure.
I vomited all over everything. I kept puking until I passed out.
It was daylight when my eyes opened. I was on a bed.
Gradually, full and dreadful realization returned.
Glancing numbly around the room, I saw that I was alone. The windows were all opened and a gentle breeze stirred the curtains.
It was not the paneled motel room.
I didn't know where I was.
Flipping aside the cool white sheet covering me, I swung my legs cautiously off the mattress.
Somehow, I felt different.
Something had happened during that undefined black interval. But what? I was stark naked.
Arising from the foreign bed, I strode unsteadily across the unknown bedroom.
There was a large plate glass vanity mirror. I stared at my reflected image.
A disbelieving moan escaped my tormented lips.
My body had been thoroughly scrubbed and scoured.
I was clean.
Someone had not only bathed me. That same someone had also cut off all my hair!
I moaned again and again, regarding the unrealistic image. My white scalp could have belonged to either a male or female. I'd lost my main symbol of femininity.
Gone, too, was the thick dark yellow thatch of wiry hair sloping between my nude thighs.
I stared at the hairless cunt revealed in all its slitted emptiness. Without the pubic bush to fill it out, there was only the pulpy gash leading inside my loins.
Someone had tried to convert me into a sexless freak. To make me into an ugly, deformed morphodite.
The closed bedroom door opened while I stood before the vanity mirror.
"Good afternoon, Miss Ross. I heard you cry out. Please don't be too upset. The hair will grow out in time."
I turned, my hands instinctively concealing that barren, mutilated crotch. I looked at the lovely brunette wearing a white nurse's uniform.
"Who are you? Where am I? Who brought me to this place?"
She afforded me a comforting smile, saying, "I'm Mrs. Lucille Nevins. This s a small private sanitarium. It's less than a ten-minute drive from Madison. As to who brought you in last week, I'm sorry but I don't know. Later, I can check for you with the nurse at the admissions desk."
I walked back to the bed. I felt more weak and unsure of myself with every time beat tick. Crawling in beneath the sheets, I tugged them up over the numbed tips of my breasts.
"A week? You say I-I've been here a week?" I whispered, my eyes dull and tragic as I regarded the trim, dark-haired nurse.
Lucille Nevins nodded, reaching down for my wrist. She located my pulse and started taking count. When she'd finished, her cool, firm fingertips left my flesh.
"This is actually your eighth day with us," she said. "How do you feel, Miss Ross?"
"Physically, I guess I'm all right. Mentally, I feel terribly depressed and confused."
"That's only natural. After what you've been through, it's amazing that you didn't have a complete nervous breakdown."
"That-thing. That warped, hideous pervert at the motel!"
"Floyd Hudstrom has been arrested. The entire incident was kept out of the papers. I imagine they will confine that wretched morphodite to a state asylum for the rest of his life." She poured water from the pitcher on the bedside table into a plastic tumbler. She shook out two tiny white pills from the packet she'd taken from the patch pocket of her crisp white uniform dress.
I swallowed the pills, washing them down with several gulps of the cool, refreshing water.
I tried to thank my attractive, efficient benefactor with a smile. "You're being very nice to me."
"Are you at all hungry? You've been fed intravenously, of course. But if there's anything special you want, now that you're awake-"
"No. No, thank you. I'm not hungry. I do have more questions but I don't want to impose on you."
She reached down and brushed her soothing palm over my naked scalp. "Dr. Neally will be in to see you soon. Miss Ross. I know you'd feel more like yourself if I got you a temporary wig."
"Oh. yes! Please!"
"Right away." She started for the door. She glanced back at me. "Want to stick with blonde hair? Or would you enjoy being a brunette or a redhead for a little while, Miss Ross?"
I laughed. "If you don't mind, I'd like to try all three hair colors."
Lucille laughed, too. She winked at me. "There's a cosmetic case on the vanity. Maybe, you can put on some lipstick and makeup while I get those three sexy hairpieces."
While she was out of the room, I sprang out of the bed and hurried into the private bathroom. As the toilet flushed, I stepped under the stinging warmth of the shower spray. Hastily toweling my drenched, glowing body, I rushed back to the vanity and took up the small cosmetic kit.
I tried not to pay any attention to my shaven skull or hairless crotch as I fixed my face.
By the time Lucille Nevins returned, I was wearing the lightweight crepe dressing robe I'd discovered in the closet.
"Which one shall it be, first?" she inquired, holding out the trio of wigs.
"Let's see how I look as a redhead, shall we?"
She placed the other two hairpieces on top of the bureau. She carefully adjusted the red-haired wig to my naked skull. "There. Now, I'll step back and tell you what I think." She backed off, critically eyeing me. She smiled, nodding in pleased approval. "You make a very stunning young redhead, Miss Ross."
"Martha. Please call me Martha."
"Look at yourself in the mirror, Martha. And you can call me Lu."
I turned and saw my reflected image in the vanity mirror.
"At least I look like a woman again," I mused. I wasn't sure I liked myself with dark red hair.
There was a series of subdued raps at the closed bedroom door. Mrs. Nevins wanted over to open it.
The man that strode into the room wore a physician's smock with a stethoscope dangling around his neck. He was tall and gray-haired, probably in his early fifties, I guessed.
"Well, what have we here?" He grinned at me and gave a pleased wolf whistle.
Lucille Nevins laughed, taking his arm, guiding him over to where I stood in front of the vanity. "Martha, this is Dr. George Nealy. You can blame him for having your beautiful real hair hacked off."
The big, sun-bronzed man inspecting me chuckled. "As if we had any choice. You were something of a mess when they brought you to us, Miss Ross. Perhaps, you don't remember."
"Oh, I remember. Even though I'd prefer not to."
"We had to give you the works as we phrase it around here. I couldn't risk the likelihood of a scalp disease. Not after learning that the entire motel was infested with lice."
I gave a dismayed gasp. "Oh, that's terrible! What about all the other people who have stayed there?"
Dr. Nealy sighed, shaking his head. "Most of them will undoubtedly need a delousing, eventually. Including David Miller."
I stared up into his kindly, sun-crinkled features. "How do you know about David?"
"It was he who brought you to us."
"Oh."
"Yes. He had an attack of conscience, I imagine we could term it. He drove back to the motel after abandoning you there. He called the police as soon as he saw that his former college chum had gone berserk."
"Ngh! Do we have to talk about it?"
Dr. Nealy reached out and patted my tense shoulder, easily saying, "No more mention of what's all in the past. Take off that robe now, will you Martha?"
I flashed an undecided, highly embarrassed glance at the trim, attractive brunette nurse beside the doctor. Lucille smiled, nodding for me to obey.
With shaking fingers, I unbelted the crepe robe and removed it.
Dr. Nealy pushed the metal listening device of his stethoscope against my nude breast. He casually cupped his hand to my other breast. I could feel the instant erection of that nipple against his palm.
"Ohh, look, doctor," Lucille murmured.
Both Dr. Nealy and I glanced down at the creamy substance oozing between his bunching fingers.
His hand tightened and began rhythmic milking manipulations.
"It would be a shame to waste all this fresh, nourishing nectar," he said. He removed the stethoscope. He bent down and started sucking at that surging pink nipple.
Lucille Nevins moaned, saying, "I'm a woman first and a nurse second. Ohh, am I getting hot!"
"Mmm, so am I!" I whispered, shivering in aroused enjoyment of George Nealy's non-medical therapy.
He grinned, leading me to the bed. "I don't have a thermometer along. So, we'll use the next best testing device to check your genitals. Martha. Just spread out and hold your hole open for me."
I got down on the mattress and assumed the pose he'd instructed. He shucked the smock and slacks beneath it. As he skimmed off his male briefs, I glimpsed the semi-rigid whiteness of his large penis in contrast to the rest of his well-tanned anatomy.
Lucille was feverishly fumbling to unbutton her white starched uniform dress. Her dark brown eyes burned with passionate awe at sight of her superior's sturdy sex shaft. She finally wrenched from the dress and ripped at the clasp of her white cotton stretch bra.
"You have to help me, too!" she panted. She skimmed down her wispy white rayon briefs, baring the lush abundance of her dark brown pubic bush. Her average-sized boobs shimmered and shuddered. Her nipples were taut coral enticements as she rushed toward the bed. "Ohh, Dr. Nealy! This is the first time you've ever done anything like this! Why didn't you fuck me all those times I begged you to?"
George concentrated on accomplishing his penetration of my upraised, widely-parted vagina. His enlarged penis was almost as big as Bruce Mackleys. It rubbed across my clitoris, shoving hugely inside those hot, bubbling walls of innermost femininity.
"Ahh! Uhh, there! It's all the way in, now," he needlessly informed me. "How does it feel, Martha? Can you feel the lips of my penis kissing at your sweet young cervix?"
"Ooh, yes! Ohh, I-I'm going to go off!"
Lucille jumped on the bed. She crammed one of her fragrant, rosily-tipped boobs down into my mouth. "Suck it, Martha! Ohh, that's it!" She flung up her naked loins, casting an imploring look at George. "Ohh, and you have to do something about my hole! I can't stand seeing you screwing another woman! You've got to at least fuck me with your fingers, George!"
"I'll do better than that, my dear. Move in so I can use my mouth," Dr. Nealy quietly encouraged.
Lucille sobbed in joyous reaction to his practiced cunnilingus.
Meanwhile, I'd succeeded in drawing milk from the throbbing pink nipple she'd pushed into my mouth. My clamoring cunt went off repeatedly as if there was no stopping the delicious sensations.
George ejaculated without having to do any coital thrusting. He brought the panting brunette to several sizzling orgasms before he lurched up from the bed, gasping for breath. He staggered into the bathroom and used the antiseptic mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.
From where I was contentedly sprawled, I saw him also administer hygenically to his limp genitals before he shuffled wearily out and began getting into his white duck slacks.
While he was putting on his somewhat wrinkled physician's smock, I said, "Thanks, Dr. Nealy. You knew what I needed most."
He shrugged, glancing across my nude form at his relaxed nurse. Lucille was flopped on her tummy. Her lovely dark brown hair was swirled over the pillow. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and regular.
Dr. Nealy came over to run his skilled surgeon's fingers over both of our naked young bodies.
As he pushed one set of fingers deep within Lucille's shapely buttocks, examining her cute rectum, he mildly said, "I should tell you I'm not a licensed doctor. Nor is our comely Mrs. Nevins here a registered nurse. For various and irrelevant reasons, we've been kicked out by the medical profession."
Lucille moaned, squirming in newly aroused sexual interest as George reached beneath her and squeezed at her milk-laden boobs.
"Ohh, you're making me give so much!"
"There. You may get dress now, too," George briskly advised, removing his caressing hands. "I've thoroughly examined both of you enchanting young ladies. In my considered opinion, you're both healthy, normal and mature females, fit for any function you choose. Including childbearing should either of you ever be so inclined."
Lucille crawled over my outstretched legs and got down from the high hospital type bed. She smiled at Dr. George, going up on her tip-toes to brush her sensual red lips to his.
"I'd like to have your baby. It's the right time of the month for me."
He frowned, gently disengaging from her seductive embrace. He turned and hiked back into the bathroom. We watched him gargle and spit out the antiseptic mouthwash.
Striding back to us, George said, "Kissing spreads germs, Mrs. Nevins. You might consider asking your husband to impregnate you."
Lucille slowly shook her head. She moved lithely in the direction of the bathroom. "Nick doesn't want us to have kids. He says we can't afford a family on his teacher's salary."
She left the door ajar while she scrubbed out her cunt and cleaned the dried secretions off her nipples. She also used the mouthwash before returning to the room.
George heaved a tired sigh, then removed his smock and undergarments again. "Very well, I imagine if I don't service you, you'd just hunt up an other man who would. Get down on the bed beside Martha."
I shifted over for her. Lucille eased down and held up her arms to receive the descending bulk of our unfrocked doctor.
I moaned, seeing his swollen penis slide down into her warm, well-lubricated vagina. He heard and understood. As soon as he was settled, he put his left hand into my hairless crotch and sought the crack so in need of attention.
I arched upward so that his entire hand became enveloped by my clinging cunt.
George pumped up and down on top of Lucille. She went off, sobbing in savoring releases. While he continued those casual coital thrusts, his inserted fingers massaged at my tingling genitals. I had a pleasant if unspectacular orgasm.
"Oooh, I'll come as quickly as you can go off in there!" Lucille softly urged. Milk had started seeping from her heaving nipples again.
I wriggled around so I could lap at her nearest boob. This greatly aroused both of us. Lucille went off even before George's unhurried ejaculation bombarded her vagina.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By my twenty-first birthday, my hair had grown out in even more beautiful abundance than before.
I was working every day at the secluded red brick clinic.
"Martha, our latest male patient has asked me to assign you to his care and comfort," Dr. Nealy crisply informed me one afternoon as I came on duty. His frosty blue eyes traveled over the front of my chiffon yellow uniform dress. He arose from behind his desk and walked around it.
I stood with my feet planted widely apart. He raised the hem of my skirt and squatted down so he could peer up at my sheer white panties.
"One of the other girls told me Lucille was taken to the delivery room this morning. Has she had the baby, yet?"
George crouched lower, resting on his heels. His right hand plowed slowly back and forth along the silken crotch of my briefs. He knew what he was doing. I felt wetness spread from my cunt and dampen the thin white fabric.
"Yes. Lucille gave birth to twin girls about an hour ago," he reported. He grinned, coming out from beneath my dress. "When are you going to let me make you some babies, Martha?"
I smoothed down the skirt Reaching for a cigarette from the teakwood box on his desk, I said, "Never. Not me. Incidentally, I'm almost out of pills. You can fix me up with a new supply. Just leave them on the nightstand next to the bed in my room."
George nodded, picking up the desk lighter. After he'd lit my cigarette for me, he sat back in the dark green executive desk chair.
"After you've finished making the rounds, look in on that new customer in room nine."
I watched him scribbling out prescriptions. When I'd finished my smoke, I snubbed the butt in the copper ashtray on one corner of the desk and left his office.
The middle-aged female patient in the first room I entered was a neurotic lesbian named Mrs. Dorothy Stannard. She enjoyed being masturbated with a banana.
She whipped up her hospital nightdress, revealing her again salt and pepper tinted snatch. As I perched on the edge of the mattress, bringing the ripe yellow and brown banana between her thighs, she moaned in grateful awareness.
"Ooh, umm! That's just right! Slide it in very slowly!"
My next patient was a colored gal of about my age. Her name was Julia Turner. She reminded me lots of Jeannie Patterson except that her breasts were even more oversized. She wore a size 48-C bra to which she'd had to add a piece. Even then, most of her boobs bulged from the confining cups.
Julia had to be milked at least twice a day. She refused to allow any men to suck at her breasts. She always insisted on performing cunnilingus to me while I relieved her.
"Ummm! Ohh, ummm, mmmm! she gasped, doing it with passionate intensity.
I couldn't begin to use up all that torrid white sauce streaming from those huge dark faucets capping her colossal caramel-colored boobs. So I diverted the surplus squirts into the bedpan.
Dusk had replaced daylight as I entered the room where my third private patient awaited my daily visitation.
His name was Michael Alberini. Years ago, he'd had surgery for throat cancer. Now, he breathed through pi hole in the side of has swarthy neck. He had to be fed intravenously through a pair of thick transparent plastic tubes stuck from another opening just below his non-existent throat to his stomach.
"Hi! How are we doing today, Mike?" I gaily asked, bending over him on the hospital bed. I opened the fly of his green flannel pajamas. I began massaging at his big, virile genitals. Sexually, he was a perfect male specimen, even at the age of 61.
He couldn't talk. The low, smothered moaning sounds coming through the electronic amplifier connected to where his partially-destroyed vocal cords had been severed did indicate his immense enjoyment of my stimulating sex touches.
His hands roamed roughly over the bodice of my uniform dress. He liked to feel around for a while before I removed my clothing and got into bed with him.
We petted for perhaps ten minutes. Then, I undressed and eased down to perform teasing fellatio upon him. His burrowing fingers poked and stroked at my unclad crotch and backside.
Mike went off just as we swapped positions. His penis had no sooner inched inside my parted vagina than I felt the thudding ejaculation that spelled finish to our fucking therapy session.
It was well past 9:00 P.M. as I admitted myself to the 2nd story room with the numeral 9 on the door.
The newly registered male patient was standing at the darkened windows, staring out between the steel bars into the blackened void beyond the glass.
I pressed the door shut, leaning against it.
"Hello, Gordon."
Ever so slowly, he turned toward me.
He'd aged a century in less than the 2 years since my mother's suicide.
His wavy dark hair was gone, replaced by streaky gray drabness receding at the forehead and thinning back from both temples.
He'd lost so much weight that I wouldn't have recognized him if I hadn't seen his name on the admissions register.
"Hello, Martha. You look great," Gordon Clarke mumbled. He took an uncertain, shuffling step toward me. His long, bony fingers twitched at his gaunt sides.
"So do you, Gordon."
"Do I? Look again, baby."
I watched him unzip his suit slacks. He proceeded to disrobe. As he stepped from his loose-fitting undershorts, he lifted with both hands at his dangling genitals.
I gave a cry of shocked lament. "Ohh, it's so shriveled! So terribly small! I-I just can't believe your penis could have shrunk so much!"
Gordon began to bawl.
I looked at him, seeing the tortured tears welling from his haggard eyes. I shuddered, spinning away from that wretched sight.
"Don't! Please-you mustn't cry like this!"
He howled with gleeful madness. "You can't stand the sight of me, can you?" he yelled at the top of his embittered lungs. "Especially my dead, dwindling prick!"
I forced myself to swing back to him. I advanced and seized his dwarfed sex organ. I yanked and stretched at it, sobbing for it to return to its normal male bigness.
"Get big and hard! Be like you once were!" I shrilly begged, jerking at his genitals.
Gordon cried out in piercing pain. He wrenched from my punishing grasp and threw himself face down across the width of the shadowy hospital bed.
"It's no use! Not even you can do anything for me!"
I tore off my uniform and under garments. I dove onto the bed. I exerted every quivering ounce of strength I possessed, trying to roll him over.
"Look at me, Gordon! I'm so hot! I want you to suck at my tits! To plunge your wonderful hands into holes!"
He did.
He pounced ravenously on top of me. His mouth bruised my nude breasts. His searing fingers drove savagely in and out of my vagina.
I had a dozen orgasms during that next forty minutes. Gordon couldn't accomplish any sort of an erection. Nor could I stretch his impotent sex shaft enough to perform fellatio.
"It's no good, Martha. You tried your best. Thanks for that." He sat up, swinging his thin, hairy legs off the high hospital bed. He buried his pinched, desolate face between his hands. "Look, do me a final favor, will you?"
I put my arm across his spare, clammy shoulders. I hugged him in against my warm, firm breasts. "Of course, I will, darling. If I can."
"Just get me up on the roof. Up where I can breathe some fresh air and see all the stars."
We got dressed. I took his hand in mine, leading us up the circular flights of stairs. The private sanitarium had a flat-roofed solarium. It was dark and deserted when we reached it.
I released his scrawny, corpse-like hand. I lit a cigarette, watching him walk woodenly to the balcony railing.
"Listen, Gordon," I said. "Can't you hear my mother calling to you?"
His head came up. He was listening. Looking anxiously out across the darkness, searching for her.
"Yes! Ohh, yes! I can hear you, Barbara! Where are you? I'm coming to you!"
He climbed up on the narrow cement railing. There was only empty blankness separating his teetering form from the ground 8 stories below.
"She can help you become a man again, Gordon! All you have to do is go to her! She's out there just a few yards in front of you!"
Gordon flung out his arms stepped eagerly off the concrete platform. His scream was a wail of welcoming to the death his crazily-pinwheeling body fell to meet.
Looking back at my life now, I still haven't found any answers.
All I know is that I'm 7 months pregnant. It's too late for an abortion.
Do I dare to give birth to a baby?
What if it's a boy? I think of the men I've known. Would I want my son to grow up to meet, mate with and possibly even marry a woman like me?
Or, suppose I have a girl. What possible chance for decency or happiness would a daughter of mine have?
I've learned that death is not the cruelest of human punishments.
There are some who might say that the fault isn't mine. That I was born over-passionate.
To them, I cry liar!
I am what I am because that's what I wanted to be. A shameless sex-addict. A thrill-seeking slut.
About all I can hope is that the child forming in my womb will be mercifully stillborn.
If not, Fl have to learn to live with another of my many mistakes. My baby will be raised right here in this sealed-off sanctuary where I and a half-dozen other whores in the guise of nurses cater to the sexual needs of private patients.
