Donna took the express route to the top, seducing the mail boy (for practice), junior executives (for polish) and finally the owners for dollars!
CHAPTER ONE
Each workday morning Clay Hepburn stopped his old car in the driveway of the Redmond home to pick up the gorgeous new copy girl. Each evening since Donna had come to work for Shafton, Oliver and Balaban, she got out of his car in front of her house. He wished he could have those shapely legs around his back or his neck, and maybe he could, since she seemed to be getting friendlier. He envied her husband his beautiful, sexy-looking wife and their expensive home.
"Wow!" he said the second morning he had picked her up. "That's some shack for an ad agency copy girl to live in."
"It's too much house for just John and I now."
"Now?"
"When he was a space scientist for Fuglass Aircraft, we felt we had to live up to his status. After he was laid off we were, and are, stuck with the place."
"It sure is a beauty. Of course, all the places here in Riverwood Hills are in the forty-five-thousand-buck class. Yeah, I'd like to have a teepee like that some day."
"If you can afford to pay about three hundred a month, John and I will turn the mortgage payments over to you and you can move right in. I've almost come to hate the place because it reminds me of the three years when he was earning twenty-five thousand a year."
"And now the poor guy's a taxi jockey?"
She nodded. Clay didn't think he'd ever forget the quick little gesture as she tried to hide the sadness that clouded her hot brown eyes.
For nearly forty weekdays, the sight of Donna's legs beneath her miniskirt, the shadow of her pussy within her thin panties, the large, twin bulges of her breasts had driven seventeen-year-old Clay to rushing home and masturbating like crazy.
Twice each day, a half-hour's ride each way, she had come to think of those moments as the happiest moments of her day. They kidded each other and she laughed at many of his sex-oriented jokes. Their rapport had grown until she always sat close beside him as he drove.
At thirty-two-a very young-looking thirty-two-Donna regarded herself somewhat as being old enough to be his mother. Perhaps that was one reason she felt relaxed during their times together in his car.
She tried not to think of the fall season when Clay was to leave Los Angeles for the state university up in Berkeley.
"Why don't you sign up at U.C.L.A.?" she had once asked him.
"I want to get out on my own. I want to live away from home for a while."
"Is there anything I could say, anything I could do, to convince you to stay here in town, Clay?" she had asked only last week.
"I didn't know you cared, Donna."
"I feel like I'll be losing my only friend when you go in-let's see, it must be about six weeks?"
"About that. But you have your husband, your old friends. I'm just a kid. There's no reason why you should miss me so much."
"That's what you think. The friends we had when we were in the money disappeared soon after John lost his position. He's only been driving a taxi for a month longer than I've been at S.O.B. and we've no friends yet from that crowd. And poor John feels like he's not as much of a man as when he had a prestige sort of job. I know it's not his fault he's not the husband he used to be, and he's been quite a sad sack for the past year."
"It sounds like you could use some cheering up."
"That's why I'll miss you so, Clay. Our rides are the only times I can get much of a charge out of life. A woman with a master's degree who finds herself working as a glorified office girl isn't apt to be happy with such a deal."
"The way you trot around the office, smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary, I thought you were far gone on your job."
"It's merely a distraction from my problems."
Clay rapidly inventoried Donna's more obvious assets. "With your shape and face you could have a great future with S.O.B.-so I've heard."
"What have you heard?"
"I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm sorry."
"What have you heard?"
"Skip it. Forget I said anything."
She put a hand on his knee and squeezed it. "Tell me.
"Please, Donna, forget it."
"I thought you were my friend."
"I am."
"Some friend." She turned to stare out the right-hand window of his car.
He glanced at her curvaceous back, and the thick brown hair that hung loose over her shoulders. He knew he had hurt her, and he was sorry.
"Promise you'll not go into orbit or say anything around the office, Donna?"
She whirled to face him. "I promise, cross my heart and hope to die if I tell anyone. Now tell me, what's the gossip?"
"Well, I overheard a couple of the girls talking. They said if you weren't such a snob, you could really go places with your, uh, sexy looks and bedroom eyes."
"Who said that?"
"That's one thing I'll not tell you."
"Anything else?"
"Well, yeah. I heard Leonard Hardin asking Shafton if he thought you were couch material. He said if you were, he could use you to keep some tough clients happy."
Donna caught her breath. "What did Shafton say?"
"He said he didn't know. He hadn't tried to find out."
She thought of the handsome account executive, Hardin, and she could hardly believe that the pleasant, dynamic executive had asked any such question. It didn't make sense, for he could have found out without asking the president of the company.
"It's hard to believe Mr. Hardin would wonder about me. I've never given him cause to, nor has he ever made a pass at me."
"You asked me what's being said about you, and I told you. I'm not in the habit of making up stories."
He flicked a glance over his passenger as they waited for a traffic light to turn green. She sure is a doll, he thought. Those big tits, that shape, and those legs-wow! His gaze lingered at the edge of her miniskirt, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Imagine, he said silently, those legs lifting, going over my back-
"The light has changed, Clay."
She noticed where he was staring, and she glanced at a similar place on his leg. Why, there was a bulge in his trousers already! Ah-h, youth. She thought back to some of her high-school dates.
"If you were about my age, I'd ask you for a date, Donna." It was as if he had read her mind. "There's a look about you that gives a fellow ideas."
"Why, Clay! I'm a married woman."
"You weren't when you were seventeen or eighteen, were you?"
"No." I'm hardly married now, she added to herself, not since John had to take that taxi driving job.
"You make me feel awfully old when you ask that."
"I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't. So just forget the difference in our ages." She leaned over and patted his cheek, and she was delighted to see his blush.
"All right, Donna. Do I rate a date?"
She laughed. "Not so fast. I have to recall how it was with me when I was your age so I can get in the mood."
And so they pretended they were a "thing," just as she and half a dozen males had been "things" during the long time before her marriage six years ago. She slid across the car seat and placed an arm lightly over Clay's shoulders. She rested her cheek on the point of his shoulder until they turned into the street where the big Redmond home was.
There stood the magnificent, cream-colored brick house that had become a white elephant to Donna and John. Its mortgage payments felt to Donna like links of a heavy chain around her neck. She would again be confined in it as in a prison until John came home sometime around one o'clock in the morning. If only I could run away from all this, she mused. But where could I go?
"Won't you come in for a cup of coffee or a drink, Clay?" she heard herself asking. "If you can afford the time, I'll cook dinner and we can eat together. You can't imagine how awful it is eating all by myself every weekday night, and even on Saturday nights." She hugged his shoulders just before she slid across the seat to open the door.
"Sure, I'll come in for a while." He walked close behind her as she moved up the short, curving walk to her front door.
As she bent to fit the key into the lock, Clay watched her back moving; the slight jutting of her neatly rounded hips poked at him. He was tempted to throw his arms around this shapely female and hug her tightly to him. The heavy door swung open and they stepped into the carpeted foyer, and then beyond into the vast living room.
"Wow!" said Clay, his glance darting here and there, all around the room.
"Like it?"
"I sure do, but I can see that this big joint could drive you into a freak-out, being alone in it so much."
She went at once toward the game room. Over her shoulder she saw Clay standing, gaping in awe.
"Well, don't just stand there like a kid. Come along. I'll make us a couple of drinks. I thought you wanted a date with me."
"Yeah, I do, but-"
"So let's live a little. What better date could you want than to be in a girlfriend's house alone with her?" She laughed to cover her nervousness, for she felt freed of her problems and she knew the feeling could continue only with Clay's help.
"I'm not old enough to drink legally."
"I'll never tell anyone, not even if you get falling-down drunk. We'll have a highball or two to sort of relax after a hard day at the office."
So Clay sat on a high, ornately carved bar stool and peered down Donna's low-cut bodice, watching her breasts heaving as she leaned over behind the bar to mix their drinks. From the corner of her eye she noticed his gaze, pleased to know that she could still attract a seventeen-year-old boy.
She took longer than necessary to mix their highballs, for she daydreamed of her own passionate girlhood. Because of her vivid memories of certain incidents, milestones in her growth to womanhood, Donna found herself yearning to relive some of those fun times.
Why not? she thought. She and Clay were pretending this was a date. There wasn't apt to be an interruption until John would come home, grumpy and bitter. For a moment, Clay saw her smile fade as she thought of what she wanted to do. When they had been prosperous she and John had belonged to a club of four couples, mate swappers, for two years. Their experiences had not lessened their love for each other; in fact, they had come together often after such nights with all the heat and uncontrolled passion of animals. Not since the club had broken up had she felt the need of any man other than her husband-until recently his bitterness and anxiety had driven him to impotence. So how could there be anything but fun for she and Clay if they played with each other as if they were kids? I can stop him before we go all the way, she told herself.
She pushed Clay's highball over the bar to him, and she took her own drink and went to sit on the oversized couch against the far wall. She wiggled her fingers for the boy, and he went to sit close beside her. She thought of a certain night after her high school had won a hard-fought football game. She and the quarterback had nearly made out all the way, but she had had enough control to masturbate him until he came before he could stick his cock into her. She was sure she could repeat the performance now if she had to.
"You sure are stacked, Donna," Clay's husky voice interrupted her thoughts.
"You really mean it? You're not putting me on?"
"I'm certainly not." He half turned toward her, and she was amused to see his tongue flick out and lick his lower lip as his gaze roamed up and down her shapely body.
"My boyfriends always tried to kiss me the minute we found ourselves alone. Isn't that the way it's done these days?"
"Uh, yeah, it sure is."
She chuckled and lay her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes when his arm went over her shoulders. He began to bend over her.
His kiss was not the awkward, boyish fumbling she had expected. His lips pressed heavily on hers and his prodding tongue was insistent. She opened her mouth at once to his whipping tongue. He liked the taste of her hot mouth, and when she murmured her pleasure the vibration went through his body, making his cock throb.
She felt his hand at her breasts and she covered it with her own, but he mistook her gesture and merely let his palm support the heavy mound of her right breast. Her fingers clamped over his, urging them to squeeze her flesh.
Almost at once her bra became painfully tight as her nipples swelled. She had to break their kiss.
"Wait a minute, darling. I have to take off this brassiere. It's cutting me in two. Can you reach the zipper down the back of my dress?"
It seemed to her it took Clay less than a second to unzip her dress to the waist, pull its top free of her upper body and to remove her bra. Then she felt the glory of total freedom from the constricting nylon net of her bra.
She rested her head once more on the back of the couch and closed her eyes.
With a moan of eagerness, Clay zeroed his mouth onto her left breast, his lips encompassing the big nipple.
"Oh, that's nice, Clay honey," she breathed.
His mouth swiped up and down and over and around the hard nubbin of sensitivity, sending chills of happiness through Donna. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt, but they stopped at his belt buckle. How far dare she let herself go?
He pushed her dress down from half mast to a pile of cloth around her hips. His mouth, with its nipping lips, followed the dress.
"Ooohh ..." she moaned when his tongue went into her navel. She slipped lower on the couch.
His kisses grew frantic on her soft belly. His hands were delightfully cruel as they mauled her heaving breasts. A fingernail scratched the tender upsweep of her left breast, and she gasped from the brief pain. But the pain cleared her already fuzzy mind for a moment.
"Not-not so fast, lover." Her protest was but a hoarse, panting breath, which Clay was oblivious to.
"Oh-h-h," she could not help gasping when his teeth nipped the slight swell of her tummy below her navel.
He raised his face; he could go no further because her dress was taut around her hips. In his face she read his need to make love to her, a need that appeared even greater than her own. She knew he would stop at nothing to force her legs apart and plunge his cock into her. Donna knew an instant of fear.
"No, Clay. No," she mumbled.
"Raise your ass," he commanded.
She obeyed.
Down and off her legs he whisked both dress and dampened panties. The aroma of her pussy spurred the speed with which he grasped her knees, flung them apart, and plunged his face to her throbbing pussy.
"No, Clay! Not that! Oh, Jesus, no-o!"
An icy chill went through her, for the suddenness of his move was frightening. She shoved hard on his head.
But her body had been long neglected, and it seemed to have a mind of its own. Damn John. This is all his fault, she silently told herself, pushing her hot cunt up to meet the boy's face. Forgotten now was any difference in their ages. Only the satisfaction of their desires was important. Her legs opened widely as he tugged her lengthwise on the couch.
A squeal that sounded strange even to Donna spiraled from deep in her throat when his boring, twisting tongue homed in on her clitoris with even greater vigor than when it had flipped over her nipples.
She reached for the zipper of his pants, and when he felt her movement, he squirmed himself beside her so that they lay end to end on the couch.
Her hand grabbed for and captured his throbbing prick, trying to force it to her wet pussy, but his arms that were around her hips would not let go. She heard him mumble a protest into her cunt, and then he threw a leg over her head and lowered himself until the tip of his cock touched her nose. His teeth nipped her clitoris, and her legs kicked up and down.
Donna's mind was whirling. The aroma of rampant manhood was strong in her nostrils. She grew too excited to care where he was inserted. She opened her mouth wide when he throbbed, and when she heard his shuddering groan, she plunged down her throat just as he spurted.
Swallowing rapidly to keep from choking, she knew a sudden tenseness that stilled her fluttering cunt. She felt her legs stiffen as from a cramp until an inner explosion knotted her womb, rolled her belly and something inside of her seemed to let go. Donna floated on a prickly magic carpet of expiring lust.
The next thing she knew, someone's strong arm was pulling her up.
"Gosh, Donna," she vaguely heard a youthful voice say. "I-I didn't mean to go so far."
As in a half dream, she smiled and patted Clay's cheek. "It's all right, darling. We needed each other more than we thought, and I'm glad we both enjoyed it."
"You-you did?"
She laughed. "Couldn't you tell?"
"I thought you did."
"We'll say no more about it to each other nor to anyone else, will we?"
"Uh, if that's the way you want it." He looked sad.
"It's not the end of the world, Clay. Next time we'll take longer and enjoy it more."
"Next time?"
"Don't you want to?"
"Sure I do."
"But not again this evening. You're some man, lover."
"I am? I really am?"
"I said so, didn't I?"
"Yeah. Well, gee, thanks."
"Now you'd better go home. I'm too weak to cook dinner."
"You are?" She laughed at the eager sparkle in his eyes.
As she watched Clay back out of her driveway, she hoped John could be a real husband this night, for Clay had but sharpened her need for a good screwing.
CHAPTER TWO
John Redmond tried to ignore the whispers, gasps and other sounds of lust that came from the back of his taxi cab.
"Turn to your right at the second corner and take it slow, friend, real slow," a man's voice growled from behind.
John said, "Yessir" in a voice that throbbed with resentment.
"I don't think we'd better, Al. Not tonight."
That was the woman's voice.
"Why not, Clarissa?"
"Because."
"That's a helluva answer. Don't you want to?"
"I-yes, it's not that."
"Maybe it's because you can't?"
Her throaty, nervous laugh drew John's quick glance to the rear-view mirror. The man was leaning over the woman.
"You know better than that, Al."
"So why the sudden brush off?"
"I'm not in the mood."
"Is that a fact?"
The cab rocked from a sudden, heavy movement. John heard the woman gasp.
"Ungh-h! Jesus, Al, I wish you'd trim those damn fingernails."
"Hell, honey, you're in the mood an' itchin' for a screw. Cut the innocent virgin act and let's get with it."
"No! Really, I can't let you. I'm-I'm scared. Herbert might find out about us."
"Scared?" He laughed. "Your old man's out of town. He's not due back for another couple of days, or so you said. Were you lying about that, too?"
"I wasn't lying. Something tells me we shouldn't. Not tonight, dear."
"Yeah? Well, I have a message for you, doll. It starts off like this."
"No, Al. Al, no! I-ooohh."
John glanced once more in the mirror and saw the silhouette of two heads against the dim light coming through the rear window from the street lights. It was hard to tell one head from the other. He turned his attention back to the street ahead. From the rear came sounds of impulsive movements.
The traffic light at the next corner turned from yellow to red. John slammed or the brakes. He heard the sounds of bodies sliding along the vinyl-covered rear seat. After three months of driving the cab he could guess what every little sound from back there meant.
"What the hell happened?" the man growled.
"Red light."
"Oh. Well, stop at 1041 Rufus Street." There came a whisper of stealthy movements.
"Don't, Al! No. Please! No-oh! Oh!"
Redmond turned halfway around. He had to see what the hell was going on back there.
He saw Al's big rear end, the thick, outstretched leg pressing high against the woman's crotch. His gaze lingered on her left knee that, even as he watched, moved, back and forth in time to the man's prodding motions. Muffled by their kiss, John heard her whimpering protests; but even so, he wasn't surprised to see her arm raise with leaden slowness and slide around her lover's back.
The sound of her foot stomping the floor of the car drew John's gaze down once more to her legs. Her skirt had been thrust high. There was an expanse of pale skin, broken only by the dark shadow of her garter belt. She had shapely legs, almost as shapely as Donna's legs, he thought.
John felt his cock growing and swelling, and he wished it were he and Donna back there, loving up a storm.
He heard, as from a great distance, the wet sound of a kiss being broken. Visions of he and Donna screwing vanished.
"Goddamn you, Al. Why'd you have to do that?"
"To convince you I won't hold still for any cock-teasing. Your husband's not home. You need taking care of and so do I. Now do I get invited up to your apartment or should J finish you off right now?"
She gasped, and John noticed her futile effort to knee Al off her.
"Oh, God no. Not here. The cabbie will-"
"Now you got the picture, Clarissa. Either we screw in public or private. I don't give a damn which."
"You're the meanest boss I've ever had, Al."
"So I'm mean. You love it. You have to admit you go all out when I stick it to you."
"Damn you! Damn you to hell. Get off me. I hate you!"
"If it's like that, why don't you go work for someone else? Your old man makes enough dough so's you don't have to work for a living. The only reason you're working is so you have an excuse to get a new cock socked into you."
"Al!"
He laughed. "Hell, Clarissa, let's call a spade a spade."
"Let me up."
The lights of an approaching car brought Redmond's mind back to his job. He turned around and drove to the corner where he was to turn right onto Rufus Street.
Just as he made the turn, the woman's voice said, "Agh-h! Damn you, Al!"
The man chuckled and said to John, "Thanks, buddy. That turn's what did the trick."
"N-not here, for Christ's sake. Take it out, Al. Oh-h, honey, easy."
John's pants had grown much too tight. He swore silently at his cock for swelling just because the sounds he had heard were suggestive. Why couldn't he get as excited when he and Donna were trying to make love? He didn't want to think of their frustration, so he listened to the grunts, the moans, the heavy breathing and the soft, wet whispers of male and female furiously fucking on the back seat of his taxi cab. He slowed the sedan to an idle, but they were still going at it when he parked in front of 1041 Rufus Street.
He hated the gentle, wavy movements of the car, the smell of sex that grew stronger, but he envied the man and he gritted his teeth and held tightly to the steering wheel. The taxi meter ticked gently. He felt the meter ticking rather than heard it because the lovers were panting like winded racers.
After what seemed to be an eternity of torturing, lustful sounds, John heard the woman moan louder and longer than she had been doing. He hoped they wouldn't mess the seat so much he would have to clean the cab before turning it in for the night.
He looked back just in time to see the toes of her shoes kick at the roof of the car. Her fine legs were doubled as far back as they would go. She was kicking rapidly from her knees that were pressed to her shoulders by the weight of her lover.
John let a hand fall to his crotch. Through his tight clothing, he caressed his hard cock.
The woman tore her mouth from Al's, and John sensed that her eyes were squinted shut. Donna always closed hers at such a moment. He listened for the final sounds of their fucking.
"Now!" the woman cried. Her feet were suddenly still.
John felt the quiverings of their climax tremble through the metal of his taxi cab. He breathed a deep sigh and gasped.
There came a hissing sound, as of breath being released from lungs that were too full. It was the woman sighing, and John knew he should turn his face to the front, but he waited until he saw her nearest leg fall slowly, until her foot rested on the car's floor. Her rounded knee swung toward him, freeing the heavy body of her lover.
With a feeling of unreasonable envy, John whipped his chin from the seat back and sat stiff and rigid, as if he were part of the car.
"Jesus, Al, I never in all my life came so quick. Now get off me and let me up."
"Huh-uh. I didn't cum. Come back here, Clar!"
"No, I can't. Oh, Christ, why'd I let you do it here in this damn cab?"
"Now, Al, stop that! I can't do it again right away. Hell, you know it takes me awhile to get ready for seconds."
"But I'm not through. Hold still."
"No!"
The sounds of a desperate scuffle decided John. "We're here, Jack. Don't leave my cab full of pecker tracks."
The man grunted and the woman gasped. "Come on up, Al," she panted. "I'll finish you off. I can't really get with it in public."
John thanked the man for his generous tip and drove rapidly down the street. He pressed harder on the accelerator pedal than he should have, for he was angry.
"Making a whorehouse of my cab," he complained aloud, sniffing the strong scent of recent sex that was thick in the back of the car. "Damned woman putting out to keep her lousy job."
He thought of the stories his father had told him of the great depression in the thirties, the stories that told of women and girls having to take on their employers because they were the only ones in their families able to find work. "Hell, things haven't changed much in forty years," he told the steering wheel.
Then he smiled, for he knew Donna was too proud a woman to let any boss sock his cock into her. No sir, she would tell the guy to go to hell because she loved her husband, even though he couldn't get the old pecker up as often as when he was working in that aircraft plant as a space engineer.
"Goddamn it to hell," he growled as he braked for a red light. "Just when I was riding high, I got shot down."
A Ph.D. after a man's name was no guarantee he would always have a lucrative occupation. John shook his head, remembering his life as a space scientist until the big layoffs came last year. What a waste it was that a man as highly educated as he should have to drive a taxi for a living; that his wife, who held a master's degree in art, had to accept a job as a copy girl in a big advertising agency.
John moaned and wiped a tear of self-pity from his eyes. He returned his thoughts to the pair who had just gotten out of his cab.
How lucky he was to have Donna for a wife. No man would ever laugh at him as that big boss must be laughing at Clarissa's husband.
Just thinking of Donna, of the way that woman, Clarissa, had moaned and grunted, caused a new erection to tighten John's pants. Maybe this time he could keep it stiff enough to really fuck poor, neglected Donna tonight. John pressed harder on the accelerator pedal, heading the taxi to the O.K. Cab Company's garage. It was after midnight and his shift had ended.
CHAPTER THREE
John backed the luxurious car he had bought new, two years ago, from the taxi company employees' parking lot. He was aware of the envious stares of the other taxi drivers, and now he was ashamed of the car that he had been so proud of when he bought it. It had become but another symbol of his misfortune.
As he drove home, he thought of Donna and hoped she would still be awake. A glance at the clock on the instrument panel told him it was twelve thirty-five, about half an hour later than when he usually began the drive across the city and out to Riverwood Hills. To help the forty-minute drive seem shorter, he thought ahead to what he and Donna would do tonight.
"Let's see," he said aloud, "how long has it been since we screwed?" He counted the days since he had been able to get his peter up for her and keep it up long enough to bring a panting, threshing Donna to her usual giggling climax.
"Thirty-nine days ago, wow!"
Poor Donna. She loved getting fucked. Dared he imagine what she could have done to sate her hunger in all that time? His thoughts flashed to that woman, Clarissa, and her lover in his taxi. As for other men, it had been at Donna's suggestion they dropped out of that swappers' club three years ago. Maybe now that she was older she didn't have so strong an urge to screw. But he knew that wasn't so. Thinking of how badly she must be wanting to make love, of how badly he, too, wanted to climb onto her superbly shaped body, to feel her strong calves riding high on his rising and falling back, excited John as nothing short of the real thing could.
He stroked the firm lump in his pants and knew that tonight he would really sock it to her.
Hardly able to wait until he had braked the big car to an abrupt halt in the garage that was actually a part of the house, he flung open the car door, leaped out and slammed it shut behind him. He grabbed for the knob of the door that opened into the kitchen.
"Donna, I'm home!" he called cheerfully as he grasped his hardon and began undressing while trotting toward their bedroom.
Donna was propped up in bed reading when she heard John's voice. She detected an eagerness in his tone that she recognized as the mating call he had used so often when he came home in the late afternoons from Fuglass Aircraft. She flung the book onto the little table beside their bed. Breathless expectation tingled all through her.
"Darling!" she sang out when she saw him rushing toward her. "I can hardly believe it." She looked wide-eyed at his hardon.
When John saw her nude and waiting, arms wide in welcome, he whimpered with eagerness. Tonight he would prove he was still the man she had married.
After a brief pause beside their bed to shed his clothes and let them drop to the floor, he was on his knees on the bed, shuffling up into the harbor of her opened legs. Already her mouth was opening for his tongue.
"Donna," he moaned, grasping the root of his cock, lowering his body onto hers.
Surely he would get her more ready than she was. Her lubrication had hardly begun, and he was so huge and firm. She looked into his wild staring gray eyes, expecting to see love and eagerness there, but she saw only stark lust.
"Wait a minute, darling. Play with me first."
"I have to do it right now. Open up."
Her vaginal muscles clamped shut and her pussy tightened in fear. "Please," she squeaked, trying to hold him off for a little while. But when she knew he would fuck her, she thrust a hand down over her pussy. A finger frantically tickled her clitoris to ready her cunt for him.
He brushed her hand aside, centered himself, and lunged heavily down and in.
She screamed and kicked the bed. She was barely moist and his shaft burned like a rod of fire. Out of her mind with pain, she cried, "Agh-h! Damn you, John!"
Her cry of pain was the same frantic cry as that of the woman, that whore, in his taxi cab. "Take that, you bitch," he growled, thinking Donna was that other female.
The lust that possessed John drove him to plunge viciously in again and again, bruising her clit with his hard thrusts.
"No! Wait! Not so h-hard."
But the strained face above her, with its closed eyes, the lips drawn tight with tenseness, was not that of her beloved John. A lust-mad stranger was fucking her. She was driven half crazy from his veering thrusts, and she fought him as if her life depended on heaving him off her.
But after three or four sadistic thrusts, her body acquired more sense than her brain. She began to feel a familiar wetness and warmth.
But even as her fists stopped trying to beat him away, she felt him grow, felt him throb, and she knew as a forgotten feeling the hard, hot spurts of his cuming.
His motions weakened and stopped. He lay on her tensely waiting body, resting. She moved up against him and rocked slowly up and down, hoping to arouse him into a slow, satisfying screw. But he groaned, rolled off her and lay beside her, staring at the ceiling.
"Sorry, honey," she heard him mumble without looking at her. She could hardly believe he was finished for the night.
"It's all right, dear. Rest awhile, and then we'll start over again."
"I-I can't. I've never cum so much in my life. I'm drained." He refused to look at her.
To admit he was finished before he had satisfied her was humiliating. What sort of man was he? But he had to be honest with Donna. It was about all they had left between them-honesty.
She looked at his long, sad face, at the gray that was in the hair at his temples. No more was his head covered with the gleaming black pelt she had so liked when they were first married. There was a bald patch on the top of his head and every morning she found more loose hairs on his pillow. The strain of job hunting and the fall in status had been really hard on him. But he could at least try to help her cum. She could help him get hard again.
Bending over his long, almost hairless body, Donna opened her mouth and lifted his cock up to her lips.
"No! Don't," she heard him say, and she was amazed when he pushed her head away.
"What's wrong, darling? You love me doing that to you."
"No, Donna. I-I can't stand it anymore."
"You used to love to eat me until I was so hot you could have used my pussy for a cigarette lighter, but you haven't even tried to go down on me in months."
"I know."
"Tell me what the hell's wrong."
"I'm not a man anymore. Any guy that would let his wife go to work, well, I don't think he is a man."
"You couldn't help getting laid off. How stupid do you think I am? I know the whole score. It was a rotten trick from our viewpoint, but it makes sense business wise that somebody, a lot of somebody's, had to go. You were just unlucky, that's all. Now hold still while I make you hard again." She bent down once more.
"No. Please. Not-not tonight."
She abruptly sat erect, grasped his shoulders and stared hard into his eyes that refused to look at her. "John, have you been laying some other woman? Is that why you want nothing to do with me? Tell me the truth. At least I can believe that, but this feeling-sorry-for-yourself bullshit has to stop. You can't live in the past. Get with it."
"How could you think I could screw another woman when I can't get it up for you?"
"Then it must be this nineteenth-century melodrama you're hanging onto that's tearing you apart."
"Melodrama, hell! How would you feel if the rug was yanked from under you like it was from under me?"
"Well, wasn't it? We're in this thing together, but I'm not crying over the past nor the future. I try to live each day as it comes along. And you'd better start getting with the scene, too, if you want to keep me around."
"Incidentally, what are you doing for tail these days, Donna?"
"Me doing for-?" Her nostrils flared with anger. "I'm dying inside a little each day, waiting for you to fuck me, that's what." Then the implication of his question struck her. She gasped and drew away from him. "Can you think I'd become another man's lay just because you're-you're temporarily out of order? Is that what you think I'd do?"
He was silent, and he turned his face away.
"Yes," she hissed. "Yes, I can see that's what you're thinking. Well, I'll tell you something, buster, unless you snap out of it damn quick, I just might try on a few cocks to see if there is such a thing as a man to fuck me. So put that in your pipe and smoke it." She jumped from their bed and ran into the bathroom for a good cry.
When she returned to the bedroom, a good half-hour later, John was pretending to be asleep. He heard her snap off the bedside light, fluff up her pillow and mutter something as she flounced around and finally relaxed. Long after she had fallen asleep he lay awake worrying.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning as Donna rode with Clay into the heart of the city, she sat close beside him, but she spoke little. She was filled with resentment because John had not tried to pull the teeth of her biting passion. She loved Clay's hand moving up her nearest thigh, and when he began to finger her panty-covered pussy, she slumped down against his palm. She would bet he wouldn't have left her hung up. In fact, from yesterday's performance, she knew he would be an eager lover. She considered using Clay as a part-time husband.
At the point of asking him for a date that evening after office hours, he destroyed her courage by turning into the office parking lot. Had she become so hard-up she was about to take on a boy just out of high school as a lover? She was also afraid he might brag of his conquest, if he hadn't already boasted of yesterday's episode. Her nerves had grown tight and raw by the time they had ridden the elevator to the seventh floor.
As she trotted back and forth through the entire floor of the S.O.B. offices, Donna was disturbed by how quickly she had become fired up when Clay's hand saddled her pussy. Forgotten, thank God, was her miserable home life, yet she debated with herself whether or not she should take him on as a lover.
So when Louise Angstrom, the forty-year-old woman who was the office manager, called her to the desk at ten o'clock, Donna was at first only half attentive.
"-and so Mr. Hardin has asked me to let you work with him exclusively this morning. I don't suppose you have any objections?"
She shook her head, noticing the peculiar smile on the older woman's handsome face. Her glance covered Louise from head to foot. She hoped that in eight more years she, too, could be as sexy looking as Louise.
"Why should I object, Mrs. Angstrom?"
"He has a reputation around here of being a slave driver. I thought maybe you'd heard."
"Oh, I like to work. It keeps my mind off my own problems."
"Problems? Hm-m-m. I'll go into that with you some day. They say I have good shoulders to cry on."
"Should I go to Mr. Hardin's office now?"
"If he works you too hard, let me know. I have a sort of influence with him."
At the door of Hardin's office, Donna stopped, fluffed her hair and tugged at the bottom of her miniskirt. She must look her best because an account executive was an important part of the organization. With the right impression and her natural efficiency, he might suggest to Wally Moffet, in personnel, a raise in her salary. She took a deep breath, smoothed her yellow dress over her bosom, turned the knob of the door and went into the expensively furnished office.
Two people stood beside the big, kidney-shaped desk. Donna's mouth fell open, for they were kissing. She wondered if she should back out of the office without disturbing the lovers. But she stood watching, fascinated. When the blonde moaned, Donna felt a sympathetic quivering deep inside her.
Their arms moved. His hand went to enclose the breast of Monica Lattimore, and her hand slid down between them to grasp his cock and play with it through his pants.
Donna's face grew too warm for comfort, and she gasped, distracting the couple beside the desk. They flew apart as if driven by springs. They turned startled faces to her.
"We always knock before we open doors around here," Hardin said, glowering his anger.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know that you-that ..." She turned to leave.
Monica rushed past her, throwing a look of hatred over her shoulder as she slammed the door shut behind her.
"Mrs. Angstrom said you need me for this morning?" Donna looked directly at Hardin, watching his scowl of anger melt to a friendly smile as his eyes ran up and down her shapely body, and she understood the gleam in his eyes.
"Have a seat while I explain what I had you sent in here for." He motioned to a chair beside the end of his desk as he went to sit in his own upholstered chair behind the desk.
He isn't even trying to hide that big lump in his pants, Donna thought. Can he know how turned-on I am? Maybe he does know. They say he's a wise apple. Aloud she murmured her thanks and went to sit in the chair.
As she gracefully lowered herself, Donna looked at Hardin's square-jawed face and smiled in amusement at his short, sandy beard that waggled when he talked.
"Some time ago," he said, "we had an account with a dog food company, and now we have a prospective client in a cat food outfit. Down in our basement storeroom are the layouts, the displays and such for that dog food account. The scripts for the TV blurbs are packaged and should be with the layouts. I need to have them dug out and brought up here.
"The office boys are busy. Since you're our newest employee, I thought you could get more familiar with our home away from home if I asked you to hunt for those things."
Donna said nothing as she watched him swing back and forth in his chair.
"Do you think you can do it?"
"Of course, if I can find my way around in the storage room. I've never been down there."
"Pull your chair over here beside me while I draw a diagram of our basement. I think I can remember where we put that stuff nearly a year ago."
She hitched her chair beside his and leaned forward to watch his doodling as he drew a diagram of the basement. He must have bathed in cologne, she thought, sniffing the heavy, emotion-stirring fragrance. She liked the shape of his ears, the neat trim of his rather long hair, the flash of his wide white teeth. She began to lose her uneasiness at finding herself so close to Leonard Hardin.
"Now here's where I think you'll find the stuff." He indicated a blind passageway at the front of the basement. "You may have to make two or three trips to get the crap up here, but you can have all morning to do it."
"Let's see now, Mr. Hardin." Donna leaned closer to the piece of paper on which his ballpoint pen was resting. "When I get off the elevator, I turn left, go as far as I can and turn right into the last aisleway until-"
"No. You've got it twisted." He laughed and slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her snugly to him. "Watch my pen. You turn right from the elevator."
"Why don't you take her down and show her our basement, Leonard?" a quiet voice said.
Donna and Hardin looked up and saw Harold Shafton standing against the front of the desk.
"I didn't hear you come in," Leonard said.
"Obviously. But don't let me interrupt you. I can wait." He smiled at Donna.
He was a solidly built man, his head topped with an unruly thatch of white hair. Donna thought that with a white, flowing beard he could double for a thin Santa Claus. Then her attention was attracted to his left arm that ended in a stump of wrist. She had heard that his left hand had been lost when he was a young man working in a factory. It was because of the compensation for the accident that he had been able to start this ad agency years ago. She could hardly draw her eyes away from the neatly healed stump of flesh and bone.
"I'm sure you could show her the place you want her to get to easier than trying to tell her how to get from here to there, Leonard."
Donna thought she saw him wink at Hardin, and she wondered why.
Going from the seventh floor to the basement in the crowded elevator, Donna was pressed backward against Hardin. Her hips flexed because something firm and swelling poked the crease of her fanny. She knew too well it was his hardening cock poking her. She tried to shove the woman ahead of her an inch or two forward, but the woman was large and obstinate and would not move. She felt her face flame when he swayed back and forth, prodding her gently as if he was already sticking his cock into her.
At the ground floor all the people stampeded out. She stepped to the far side of the elevator car for the short drop to the basement. She wasn't sure she would put up much of a struggle if he became insistent, for she would be fighting the desires of both his body and her own.
"Where we are going is this way, honey," he said, catching her arm and turning her to the right.
The basement was a catch-all for all the offices in the S.O.B. building. Old office furniture was piled to one side of a broad aisleway, and at the front of the basement the aisle ended at a door.
"In there? Is that where we're going?" she indicated the door.
"No. That's an efficiency apartment the janitor lived in before we hired a building maintenance service. I'll show you." He fished in his pocket for his key case.
"Don't bother. I'd better get busy hunting for the stuff you want."
"Such ambition. Are you always that eager to work?" He unlocked the door and flung it open.
"Why, the apartment is still furnished!"
"It comes in handy every now and then."
As she looked at the bed with its clean white spread, she sensed Hardin moving up behind her. She spun around to leave this suggestive room and was at once enclosed in Leonard's arms.
"Mr. Hardin! Let me-"
His hot mouth covered hers and his tongue speared in. She strained to break free of his bear hug, but a firm hand on her left hip held her to the grinding of his cock against her belly. She must break free or her body would demand its need be fulfilled. Already she was warm and damp, swelling and opening for a man. A picture of the bed behind her, of her on it, enfolding Leonard with gripping thighs and arms, flashed through Donna's mind, even as she mumbled a weak protest into his mouth. She must break free if she was to go unfucked from this room. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to free herself. She must not seem a pushover to this man who had so much power over her office life. A sudden shove on his chest and he stepped back at once to the open door, releasing her.
"Let me out of here, Mr. Hardin."
He grinned as he stepped aside. "You must be a square to object to only a kiss. Well, come on, you can get busy now. I was just testing."
As they turned into the last blind aisleway that joined the main passage in front of the apartment door, Donna wondered if she would be fired for resisting Hardin. A cold chill of dread stiffened the hairs on the back of her neck.
"I think you'll find the layouts on that bottom shelf, Mrs. Redmond." He stretched up to turn on the dangling, bare light bulb.
When she bent low and reached to the back of the shelf for the posters and paste-ups that had somehow gotten shoved far back, her miniskirt rode high on her ass.
She couldn't see Leonard step back to admire the view of her hips and pussy that were hardly concealed by her thin white panties. She felt his stare as a wave of caressing warmth, and she felt her cunt lips swelling and moistening even more.
She wasn't surprised to feel his arms going around her, to feel one hand kneading her belly, his other hand pressing a breast and his fingers pinching a nipple into hard erection.
"Please, Mr. Hardin. Let me get on with my work." Her voice, made hollow by coming from between the shelves, brought a derisive chuckle from Leonard.
"This is part of your work, sweetheart."
"Oh, no! No."
She grabbed the edge of the bottom shelf to shove herself out of the dank, shadowy space, for she did not want to be mated, bent double like a common animal. She liked a thick tongue in her mouth as she was about to climax. But he held her firmly as he reached beneath her skirt and stripped her panties all the way down to her ankles. She stepped out of them so that she wouldn't trip should luck be with her when she would lunge backward and run.
Donna never had a chance to free herself. His hand on her breast gripped it like a handle, holding her as she was. Donna quivered at the sound of a zipper being ripped open.
Muscles under the inner surfaces of her thighs danced when something blunt and hot and moist parted them in search of her still-swelling cunt.
"No, Mr. Hardin, I'm not that kind of woman." She hated his triumphant chuckle.
"The hell you're not. How stupid do you think I am?"
As she felt his thick fingers fumbling her pussy lips apart and felt the big head of his cock knocking at the entrance to her pussy, he said, "You may call me Leonard from now on." Then he whipped his hips forward, driving his shaft halfway in.
Her scream was hollow and deadened, but her contracting cunt gave his cock a real love grip. And so he drove himself all the way in. Her groan of despair hardened his cock even more.
Donna dared not admit, even to herself, the wonderful feeling of his cock-any cock-pistoning rapidly into and out of her hungry cunt. Something soft and round patted her clitoris with each thrust that banged them together. Oh-h-h, it felt so go-o-o-od. What could it be? Suddenly she knew it was his well-filled balls that were patting her turn-on button, and each time it swung to her she grunted her pleasure.
Now he was racing. How hard he was driving into her! Ah-h-h, it was almost like it used to be when she and John had screwed dog-fashion. Each tap of his balls drove her a little nearer to her climax. Oh, how I needed this, she thought, butting herself back tightly around him.
A growing tension twanged her nerves. His hand moving along the front of her widely stretched pussy; a finger flipping over her clitoris was driving her out of her mind. She couldn't keep from writhing and twisting and squirming as she tried to look back to see if his face was as contorted as her own. What was that movement in the aisle? Or was there a movement? For a moment fear stilled her internal flutterings.
"Someone is ... someone ..." Donna tried to tell her lover they were being watched, but a spasm deep in her belly blotted out what she thought she had seen.
Steadily now she was being speared, loving the growing tension that tightened her nerves like plucked harp strings.
Soon. Soon she would peak. "Um-m-m. Oh, Leonard! Leonard," she whispered, "make me cum." Her voice was no longer that of Mrs. Redmond, but the hollow croakings of a lust-maddened female.
It wasn't long before she felt the ripplings of her cunt milking Leonard. The roaring in her head grew louder. And then she heard him groan and felt the pulsing pressure, the heat of his cum. Donna's belly pumped wildly, demanding more of his seed.
She thought she heard a cymbal crash. She smelled the sweetness of all the world's roses. She was filled with his cum, and Leonard felt the heat of both their fluids overflowing, surging out to bathe his dangling balls. A sound of announcement welled up in her throat, and she had to open her mouth to let it out.
"Ooohh ... mmnn!!" she cried loudly.
"Christ!" Leonard panted. "What a woman."
Not far down the main aisle. Shafton stopped dead as he walked toward the elevator. The sound was startling in the silence of the basement. "This I have to see," he said aloud, retracing his steps to the aisle where Leonard was giving it to that newest copy girl.
Leonard drew out of Donna. The sound of her body's suction being broken was like a finger being pulled from the neck of a bottle.
"Wow," he breathed as he dug a handkerchief from his hip pocket.
Slowly Donna backed out of the shelf space. She had hoped he would return for seconds, for she was still not fully satisfied. She stood on trembling legs and turned to see Leonard drying himself. When he handed the handkerchief to her, she refused it..
"Why did you pull out so soon, Mr. Hardin?"
"Because I'm through, honey."
"Oh, no!" She slid her arms around his neck and rotated her pelvis to his. "How soon can you get hard again?"
"Don't tell me you want another quickie?"
"Not a quickie this time, Leonard. Please make it last and last." His arms reaching out, encircling her.
Her body ground itself to his, and from below the edge of her miniskirt she felt his limp prick riding high along her sticky slit. Her teeth nibbled his ear lobe, and she stroked the hairs of his beard.
He stooped quickly, picked her up and carried her into the former janitor's apartment.
Shafton crept to the door that had been kicked shut and pressed his ear to it.
Because of the thick wood he could not hear the bed springs creaking, but he did hear Donna cry, "Lover!" in a loud, hoarse gasp. On the screen of his closed eyelids, he saw Leonard's ass bobbing steadily. He saw the shapely legs of the copy girl curl and ride the length of her lover's back, and he envied Leonard the fun he must be having. He should be leaving them to their joys, but he had to know if she would once more loudly announce her cuming. He had never heard so stirring a cry.
When at last Shafton heard the call, he jabbed the stump of his left wrist to his crotch, turned, scooped her panties from the floor and pocketed them, and then he scuttled down the aisle to the elevator. He grinned to himself, hoping his turn with Donna would come.
When Donna, with her arms full of layouts and big brown envelopes that were filled with the scripts of TV ads, saw the clock in the reception room of S.O.B. she gasped. Twelve o'clock! Almost two solid hours of screwing, until Leonard had left her exhausted fifteen minutes ago.
She had never known a man who could hold out so long, nor one who knew so many different ways of fucking. She frowned at the feeling that brought a Mona Lisa smile to her face. She was afraid she had fallen a little in love with Leonard.
When she went into his office, he looked at her and grinned, knowing it was he who had brought that relaxed, sleepy-eyed look to her face that only this morning looked so strained and excited. He wished her husband could see her now.
"Well, Mrs. Redmond, I see you've got most of the stuff you went to the basement for."
They looked at each other and laughed. "If you need me for anything, say so and I'll come at once Mr. Hardin."
"I'm sure you will." He kept a straight face until after she had left his office.
CHAPTER FIVE
John awakened from a nightmare-filled sleep. He had dreamed of driving his taxi cab while Donna was being screwed on the back seat by some strange man. Each time he felt the cab rock, his fists tightened on the steering wheel.
From his jacket pocket he drew a gun he had never really seen. When he heard her cry of completion, he jammed on the brakes, turned around, and shot both Donna and her lover.
Her cry rang in his ears as he sat up in bed and his eyes flew open. He shook his head, wondering at the reality of the nightmare.
Perhaps through some miracle of ESP he did hear her cry at the same moment Harold Shafton heard it plainly through the thick door of the apartment in the basement of the S.O.B. building.
"Jesus, what a night!" John said, shaking his head and pounding it with his fist. "Why couldn't I have screwed her last night?"
He reached for the bedside phone to call Donna, for anxiety urged him to determine whether or not she was endangered. He caressed his cock that was firm and throbbing. "You let me down last night, you son of a bitch," he told his cock, replacing the phone in its cradle without making the call.
Shaken by the vividness of his nightmare, John could not remain long in one place as he waited until it was time to drive to the taxi company's garage. What would he really do should he find Donna getting her nooky from another man?
Like all outdated square studs, he regarded a wife as a possession, a jewel to be guarded and fought for. He couldn't blame himself for letting Donna get into an emotional state where it was necessary for her mental health to take a lover. But he could, and did, blame his penis for its failure last night.
John hated the days when he was alone in the empty house, waiting for time to leave for his four-to-twelve shift. But he hated taxi driving even more. It seemed to him that he had come to live in a state of perpetual hating. He cheered himself by resolving to leave early every day next week so he could scout for employment more in keeping with his education.
"You're early today, Redmond," the blond radio dispatcher remarked. "You're sure an eager beaver."
"I'm the ambitious type, Millie. Couldn't you guess?"
"Yeah, but I hardly dared believe you've got ambition. So where's the future in cab driving?"
The daytime dispatcher, a divorcee, was shapely, fair of face, and she set everyone at ease without half trying.
"How about doing a gal a great big favor, John?"
"Such as what, Mrs. Porcine?"
"Never mind the formal crap. I need a ride home because I don't feel like catching a damn bus and my boyfriend is out of town for a few days." She noticed a sad look replace John's bright smile. She laughed. "I'll pay the employee's cut-rate fare."
"Glad to do a favor for a stacked doll like you."
"And if I wasn't stacked?"
"Then you'd pay full fare, same as any other bag."
She laughed and slapped her knees. "You sure can talk trash like an old pro-maybe you are an old pro, huh?"
"Pro what, honey?"
"Pro pussy-hound, what else?"
He liked her direct way of speaking. He glanced at her long, sexy-looking legs. His eyes moved to her prominent bosom, and he grinned at her face that was quite pleasantly round.
"You sure that gold hair isn't a dye job, Millie?"
"It's me, just me. Want me to prove it?" Her fingers playfully grasped the bottom of her unfashionable, knee-length skirt.
"I dare you."
"I always take a dare, buster." She stood up and began to raise her skirt.
"Hey! Not here. D'you want to get us both fired?"
"So you don't really care if I'm a natural or a chemical, huh?"
"Sure, I care. Sometime I'd like to see for myself, but not here in public."
"Just you remember what I said about a dare, but I think you're chicken."
"Come on and check me in. It's four o'clock."
"Yeah, and my replacement is here, so let's go." She bobbed her head at a fat little man who came to stand beside her.
"You know," she said as they drove slowly toward her apartment house, "if I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd like you to turn me on, but good! Something tells me you're a wonderful lover."
"Hm-m, well-"
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"A wonderful lover, what else?"
"What do you want, testimonials?" He laughed. "My opinion would be hardly fair-prejudice, you know."
"I'm hardly ever wrong about a man. Not since I goofed up by marrying the crap head I got rid of two years ago. Tell you what, Johnny boy, bring me a letter of recommendation from your wife, huh?"
"You're putting me on."
Her laughter filled the cab. "Of course I am, but don't you get a charge from my idea?"
Maybe she was putting him on when she told him she'd like to have him turn her on. It wasn't a flattering thought. So he was silent during the rest of the trip, and Millie discovered he wasn't a man to be kidded.
He was lucky to find a lone parking space in front of the old, red brick apartment building.
"Come on up so's I can pay for my ride, John. I don't carry any money but small change-too many muggers."
"I'll wait here."
"Come on up. You surely don't want me to make two trips to the fourth floor, do you? Not tired as I am from a day's hard work in that damn office?"
In the self-service elevator, after she had punched button number four, she moved close to John.
She looked up at him over her shoulder. "It won't be long now."
From a whiff of her scent, a boldness flared. "That's what you think, doll." He caught her hand and held it to the lump of his growing erection.
"John! That's not what I meant. I meant it won't be long until you get your money. If you're going to be horny, maybe you'd better call the dispatcher and tell him you'll be out of service for a couple of hours."
"I'll behave." He released her hand, but she was slow in taking it away.
She ushered him into her home, a modestly furnished three-room apartment that did not interest him at all. His attention was fully on her swaying hips and ass as she went into another room for the money with which to pay him.
She was gone longer than John expected, and when she came back, she was smoothing her skirt over her hips. "Sorry I took so long. I had to get out of my girdle. It was killing me."
Walking up to him, she stretched out a hand and pulled down the zipper of his pants. He was too surprised to move, even when she stepped back, grasped the hem of her tight skirt, and whisked it up to her breasts.
"I'm taking your dare, John. Now do you believe I'm a natural blonde?" She laughed when his eyes bulged and his cock sprang free, pointing proudly at her.
"That's what I wanted to see," she squealed. "From the feel of it in the elevator, I couldn't believe it was for real."
With a croaking gasp, he lunged for her with open arms. She made a quick half-turn and grasped his prick, bringing him to a sudden stop.
He gargled a meaningless sound, stiffened and spurted his cum halfway across the room.
"Why, you poor man! Your wife should be ashamed, neglecting you so. I never let my husband get that randy, believe me."
"I-I-" John gasped, turning his reddened face away from Millie.
"That's all right, darling." She gave a final squeeze to his softening prick. "I know how it is when a fellow gets real hard-up."
"B-but you don't understand. It's not because Donna-because Donna ..."
He couldn't say it was his fault he hadn't been properly cared for. His blush deepened as he turned his back to Millie, stuffed the cause of his embarrassment out of sight, and adjusted his clothing.
Her arms went around him, and she turned him face to face with her, mouth to full-lipped mouth. Her tongue played with his, and she pressed her pelvis to his and ground it there, but he could not rise again.
"If you ever get so turned-on again, you come see old Millie. She'll be glad to help you out." Then she paid him for her taxi ride. He turned and crept silently from the scene of his disgrace.
Only after he had crossed the sidewalk to his taxi-cab did John discover how his legs were trembling, how his hands shook too much to drive. He went to the newspaper dispenser that was chained to a streetlight post just beyond cab number seventeen.
Seated behind the steering wheel, he opened the newspaper because he had not the courage to think of what had happened five minutes ago.
Man Slays Wife, Wounds Lover, big, black headlines announced.
He read rapidly down the right hand column: "Mrs. Clarissa Mathews was shot to death at about one o'clock this morning by her husband who had returned from an out-of-town business trip. Neighbors returning from a party heard two shots fired as they passed the Mathews' apartment door, and they summoned the police.
"Mr. Mathews was found sitting in a chair beside his wife's bed, holding a discharged pistol. On the floor lay a wounded man whose identity is being withheld pending further police investigation.
"Mrs. Mathews was a-"
John let the newspaper fall to the floor of the cab. He stared out through the windshield, seeing nothing, dazed by the shock of knowing he had hauled Clarissa on her last ride.
Supposing it had been he who had discovered Donna. Would he, like Mathews, have gone off his rocker and killed her?
He sighed deeply and started the engine. He could not have been so insane. There was no need to think of what he would have done, for Donna was not the sort of woman Clarissa was. Supposing-just supposing-she could be seduced by another man. Wouldn't the blame really be his because he could not function as a husband should? After all, women have needs as strong, or stronger, than men.
The fixed frequency radio in his cab brought John's thoughts back to the present. The dispatcher's voice gave him an address where someone was waiting for a taxi. He acknowledged the order and drove to a small, seven-story building downtown. It wasn't until he wheeled the car to the curb that he recognized the building as the one in which Donna worked. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was four-thirty, closing time for Shafton, Oliver & Balaban.
Quickly scanning the faces of the people rushing from the building, looking for Donna, he was hardly aware of his passengers as they climbed into the back of the auto.
Just as they were piling in, he saw his wife coming from the entrance. She was laughing at something the red-haired boy beside her had said. The quick glimpse John had of her laughing face, the familiar way with which the boy took her arm and steered her along the crowded sidewalk, stirred a pang of jealousy. She hadn't been that cheerful at home for ages. That kid must be the one with whom she rode back and forth to work. What could he have said that amused Donna so much? The voices of his passengers interrupted John's speculations.
"Well, Louise, I guess you'll have to sit on my lap. This cab has no jump seats."
"How about Monica sitting on Harold's lap for a change? Why must I always be the double decker?"
The commotion of his fares arranging themselves for the ride was taking longer than John liked. He got out and went around the cab to close the rear door. The flurry of two pairs of shapely female legs bulged his eyes, and he noticed how active the masculine hands were as they shifted the two women around.
"Leonard! Quit tha-a-at," the female sitting on the bearded man's lap said. And the other woman, a laughing blonde squeezed between the two men, said, "Now, Harold, can't you wait until we get to the motel?"
John glanced past the double-decked pair and saw the stump of Harold's left wrist fall onto the blonde's lap.
Leonard turned to her. "Slide over an inch or two, Monica. My ass is broader than I thought. Guess I'll have to reduce."
"You're not too heavy, darling. You're just right." The woman on his lap wriggled happily.
"That's what you think, Louise. You haven't been with him for a while. I'll bet you'll be surprised to find out how heavy he's become." Monica laughed.
John slammed the door and went around the car to the driver's side. He gave no attention to the conversation, since he did not know these were people from the S.O.B. offices. All the way to the motel on the outskirts of the city, he thought of Donna's laughing face. If only he could make her laugh as heartily as that boy had. He sighed and said to himself, I'll have to snap out of it, or I'll lose her.
On the way back from the Dreamland Motel, he stopped beside a trash can to dispose of the newspaper. Trying not to see the headlines, he stuffed the paper into the can, but he did catch a glimpse of the wide, black letters across the top of page one. He tried to channel his thoughts to something besides making love. Little worms of jealousy were very much alive in his mind. Suppose Donna and that kid ... From the way she had thrown her head back when she laughed, and then when she let the boy take her arm, it wasn't hard to fancy what could follow.
He closed his eyes and saw them driving slowly through traffic, Donna sitting close beside the boy, grinning at him, dewy-eyed with invitation, his hand fondling her knee and probably higher. John imagined he heard her sigh and saw her lean to kiss the boy's ear as she had often kissed him. He heard the whisper of her ass on the car seat as she slid down to meet the redhead's stroking hand.
"No!" John croaked. "I'm going insane." He drove away from the trash can, shaking his head.
* * *
Clay was driving slowly because of traffic conditions; Donna was sitting halfway between him and the right side car door.
"Slide over here, Donna. I won't bite."
"Silly, of course you won't. Don't I know?"
"Well?"
"I'm not in the mood this evening." After that session this morning, in the basement apartment, her body was not in need of a man.
Women! Clay thought. Who can dope them out? It wasn't like Donna to be so distant with him.
She put a hand on his arm. "Maybe hunting for a lot of layouts and such in the basement this morning tired me too much, Clay. Anyhow, I'm not feeling romantic tonight. I'm sure a man of your experience can understand."
"I noticed you weren't in the office for a couple of hours and I wondered what happened to you."
"Oh, I was working. Earning my salary the hard way."
"Are you peed off at me for something?"
"Certainly not. Why should you think that?"
"This morning you were a real cuddle bunny; now, it's get lostville for me."
She slid across the seat, shoulder to shoulder with him, and placed an arm lightly around his neck. "Is this more like it?"
"Sure is." He grinned, but he knew her feelings for him had changed since this morning.
His hand dropped from the steering wheel to her knee. Maybe she needed to get turned on. She forced her leg not to twitch away from his fingers.
"Louise was right about Mr. Hardin, Clay."
"What are you talking about?"
"He's the one who put me to work in our basement storeroom. Louise warned me that he could be a slave driver. She was right. He is. I'm so tired I think I'll take a shower, grab a sandwich and hop into bed and sleep, sleep, sleep."
"You can rest up over the weekend. I've got to work Saturday. How lucky can you be?"
"You're going to work Saturday? The office is closed. There'll be nobody there."
"I'll be there. Old man Oliver is in a sweat to get out some direct mail brochures, and I'm the lucky guy he picked to get them out."
Donna did feel better sitting close to Clay. She was sorry he seemed to feel neglected; after all, he was just a boy. It was so comfortable riding home with someone to snuggle up against.
When he whipped the car into her driveway, she found herself saying, "Won't you come in for a drink or something? I hate to be alone in the house for eight or nine hours. That is, if you haven't anything special to do."
He braked the car to a sudden stop and leaped out as if he were rocket propelled.
"I was hoping you'd invite me in again."
"But nothing will happen like it did the other day. You sort of caught me at a weak moment then."
As she unlocked the front door, he couldn't resist running his hands lightly up and down her sides and hips.
"Clay! No! What would the neighbors think if they saw us?"
He laughed, and his hopes rose because she had said, "us" instead of "you."
"Then hurry up and open the door."
"None of that this evening, Mr. Hepburn."
But as soon as he heard the door click shut behind them, his arms went around her and he turned her face to his for a long, tongue-whipping kiss.
Donna tried to push him away, and she struggled all the while he was kissing her. She swiveled her head back and forth, but his avid mouth stayed glued to hers until she was breathless. He drew back and looked with desire-brightened eyes at her flushed cheeks and still-parted lips.
"I guess I've goofed somehow. I can't seem to turn you on. Donna."
"It's not your fault. It's because I'm too tired to get with it. That's the only reason. You're really quite a stud."
"Am I? How would you know when we've never balled together?"
She glanced down and saw the prominent bulge in his trousers.
"A woman knows those things without having to go all out."
"You really turn me on, Donna. How about trying me on for size?"
"I have your measurement. Don't tell me you've forgotten already."
"That's all I can think of just now. Tonight we'll try the old-fashioned method."
He grabbed her ass and yanked her pelvis to his. He ground his hardon hard into her belly, and her feet stomped the floor in an effort to break from his clutch.
Suddenly he let her go, and she almost fell as she leaped back. The shock of knowing his intentions stiffened her resistance.
"No, I said. I'm a married woman."
"Only when your husband is here. Let's get with the scene. You want it as much as I do."
"I do not-not now. Please, Clay, let's have a drink and just talk."
"The hell with it then, Donna. Go mix us a drink. Then I'll get lost. I don't go for a damned tease."
"I'm no tease. How many times do I have to tell you I'm tired?"
"A woman's never too tired to screw."
Ah-h, the ignorance of youth, she thought as she left him standing in her living room while she went to mix their highballs.
During the short time it took to gulp their drinks, Clay hardly spoke. Would she have to catch a bus and transfer to two more busses to get to work from now on? So when he was leaving, she hugged and kissed him as passionately as she could.
"That's more like it, Donna. See you Monday morning." She was pleased to see his parting smile.
After she stuck a TV dinner into the oven and set the tinier on the stove, she went to take a shower.
All day Donna had forced herself not to think of Leonard Hardin and his tickling beard, but in the shower, soaping her body, touching her more sensitive spots, she thought of Leonard. Thinking of how his beard had tickled the underslopes of her breasts as he kissed the nipples, they began to firm once more. When he had nibbled and lapped down over the low rise of her heaving belly, her legs had churned on that bed in the basement apartment. And she recalled how she had groaned "Hurry!" as he had approached her swollen pussy. She burst into a glad little song as the water showered away the soapsuds. Three times he had brought her to climax, not counting the time she had cum bent over that bottom shelf.
While drying herself in the bedroom, she saw herself in the mirror as Leonard must have seen her lithe, sexy body when she had stood in stiff-legged passion, letting him strip her naked. "What a man!" she said to her reflection in the mirror.
It wasn't fair to compare John with Leonard, but the difference rose as a spectre in her thoughts. Poor John. When would he be able to do his husbandly duty? The sooner the better, for she did not want to fall in love with Leonard or any other man.
She went naked to eat her warmed-up dinner, and then she went to bed.
"How can I get John turned on?" she asked her pillow as she hugged it to her, just before she fell asleep, frowning from the need for her husband's love making.
CHAPTER SIX
When John came home, he found Donna asleep, nude on their bed. In the dim night light that always glowed from its socket low on the wall, he watched her high, firm breasts rising and falling. He looked at the slight swell of her belly until his gaze rested on the glowing brown bush of her pussy. He should be getting an erection, but he wasn't.
"Damn it," he muttered, "maybe I should see a doctor." But he knew he wouldn't.
He slid naked into bed, snuggled up to Donna and passed a hand up and down her curves. He closed his eyes as his fingers wandered through the hair that had become the golden bush of Millie's pussy. He clutched and kneaded Millie's breasts and poked a finger into her navel. His cock was coming to life.
Donna, in the depths of her sleep, dimly felt the caressing hand. A warmth grew inside her and her legs moved back and forth. The growing sensations were as those she had felt when Hardin had reached around her, when she was bent over that lower shelf in the basement of the S.O.B. building. A natural alarm urged her over onto her stomach. "Don't," she murmured.
"The hell with it," John growled. He, too, turned away from his mate and eventually fell into a troubled sleep.
Sometime during the night he dreamed of Millie Porcine. As clearly as in reality he watched her skirt rise, exposing her pussy. He felt again his vigorous hardon and he saw himself lunge for her. Instantly, she became Donna of the dark and lustrous pussy. John tried to stop his forward rush, even as the scene changed to one where he rushed into a bedroom, discovering a red-headed youth fucking his beloved Donna. He saw himself stop dead still, and he felt his mouth flop open. All too clearly was Donna's passionate response revealed by her flailing arms and legs.
John awoke, shaken and sweating and trembling. He had a monstrous hardon.
Beside him Donna moaned in her sleep. The warmth of her body, her deep snore that he had mistaken for a groan of lust, became confused with his dream. She had no right to give her lover the passion that should be his.
Fully awake, driven by jealousy, he swung his body between her restless, wide-spread legs. With no feelings of love or tenderness, he aimed his cock and plunged, but he was stopped because she was dry and unprepared for screwing. Donna cried out and her heels kicked the bed, trying to dislodge whoever was trying to fuck her.
"No!" she gasped, coming awake. She recognized her husband, and as he shoved again her juices of welcome flowed.
"Darling! I can hardly believe it."
"Shut up and hold still." And then her pussy opened to his second thrust and she grunted as he bottomed within her.
She was being fucked furiously, but she also furiously fought her husband because he mouthed vicious insults that chilled her love.
"Take on a red-headed kid, will you?" He drove savagely deep. "Well, I can screw you better than that bastard."
"No, John darling, no! I've never-oh-h, God! Stop, John, stop!"
But he plunged on and on. Donna's body responded, humping itself up to meet each thrust. He only half heard her loud groans. Her head tossed from side to side in protest, yet her arms and legs whipped up around him. She felt her cunt clasping his cock with a frenzy that had happened but two or three times before.
Trembling inside and out, her vaginal spasms quickened. She was ready to cum. "Not like this," she whispered. "Please darling, no. No. No." But his panting breath did not slow at all.
Suddenly he went rigid, groaned, swore and shuddered.
"Wait! Wait f-for me," she panted. Seldom had Donna been so hot.
Another lusty groan came from John. She cringed from the pain of his teeth biting the top of her shoulder.
"Wait. Please. Oh-h, no-o-o." She felt the hot flood of his ejaculation, and she groaned a final sound of despair.
"That should hold you for a while." His voice was harsh and grating. He had used her as a safety valve-exactly as she had used Leonard Hardin.
From the nerve-tearing anguish of being left at the peak of her passion, a wave of hatred engulfed Donna. She slapped John's face hard, and she was instantly sorry. John rolled off her, turned his back and sobbed like a crying baby.
"Darling, Fm sorry, so sorry." She reached for him. He cringed from her hand when it touched him, and there was no way for her to reach the tortured man.
"Damn. Damn," she moaned into her pillow, her fists beating the bed.
Much later John's sniffles faded as she drifted into a more troubled sleep than that from which he had awakened her:
John was cooped in a hard shell of remorse. How could he have done this to his Donna, comparing her to a common whore? He was not fit to live with her.
In his archaic philosophy he was the worst husband in the world-Donna having to work in a wolves' den to help keep up the payments on the house and car. He fell asleep hanging to the edge of the mattress farthest from Donna.
The next day, Saturday, while they were breakfasting, Donna mentioned the nocturnal catastrophe.
"That was nice last night, John."
"What was nice?"
"Why, our screw."
He stared across the table at her, and she thought for a moment she was seeing a stranger. His long face looked even sadder. There seemed to be too much gray in his dark hair for a thirty-six-year-old man and his eyes were the sightless ones of a statue as he stared at her.
"I'll never forgive myself for that."
"For what? I enjoyed it."
"I was like an animal."
"A woman likes her man to be animal once in a while."
"But I wasn't thinking of you. I just bulled it through until I came, and then I couldn't go on. You didn't cum."
"Well, no. The important thing is that you needed me and I was glad to be there for you, dear."
"I was awfully rough."
"So?"
"It wasn't making love. It was just plain fucking. I raped you."
"A wife likes to be raped occasionally. It sort of lets her know that her husband wants her so badly he has to go all out."
She saw the disbelief in his eyes.
"The importance of last night is that you could, and did, screw the hell out of me, and I liked it."
"I didn't do it the way it's supposed to be done. I hurt you. I know because I can still hear the way you screamed when I went in."
"The way it's supposed to be done, John, is whatever way you feel like doing it. It's the one time you should go all out, and you did. Better luck next time for me. I'm glad it happened. It proved you haven't completely lost your manhood."
"I should have gotten you ready first."
Donna took a sip of her coffee, staring over the rim of her cup at his anguished face. She wondered if all brainy men got so out of touch with their wives' needs.
"Let's remember it as something not quite perfect, but awfully nice."
That was one of the longest Saturdays John had known. Every time he looked at Donna as they puttered in their flower beds and trimmed the bushes that grew so profusely here in central California, he was reminded of the episode in the middle of the night. When it came time to drive to the taxi garage, he sighed and hoped Donna hadn't heard him.
"Why, he lit out of here as if someone had hollered fire," Donna said to the window through which she watched her husband leave for work.
When John checked in at the O.K. Cab Company office, Millie's relief was just coming on duty.
"Geez," she said, "I'm glad this day's over. Saturdays are always rough, but this one-wow!"
"You look beat, blondie. Want a ride home?" John displayed his best smile.
"I dunno. I'm trying to save up a few bucks."
"This ride will be on me."
"What's all this? Oh, I dig it. You want something from me, huh?"
"What makes you ask that?"
"Nobody does favors for Millie unless they want something from her. What's it going to cost me?"
"Nothing."
"All right. I'll take a chance. Tired as I am, I should fight my luck? Hell, no."
With Millie John was relaxed. He could say anything he pleased to her and not wonder if she was offended. There was no pressure to be on his best behavior as he felt when he was with Donna.
"Hey, you're a sharp cookie for all your snobbishness," Millie said as she got out of the taxi. "If you got a few minutes, you can come up for a while."
"I have a few minutes, and I'd like to come up."
The apartment door had hardly closed behind them when she turned, moved tight against John and said, "Well, don't I rate a kiss?"
As his arms went around her, he gasped, for he felt her hand fumbling at his crotch. By the time their kiss was finished, John was ready for anything. He stepped back and looked at Millie.
"I'd like to check your pussy hair again. Something's bothered me ever since you showed it to me."
"Why, sure, darling. Anything for good old John." She held up her skirt and petticoat. "Pull my panties down, dear. I have my hands full."
So John knelt before her shapely thighs, and with trembling fingers he drew her panties down around her ankles. And then he bent closer, his fingers searching among her hair.
"What are you doing down there? It tickles."
"I'm checking something."
"Like what?"
"I thought the roots of your hair looked darker than the rest of it."
"They do? That's impossible. I'm a natural blonde, and I can't be getting gray at only twenty-six-or can I?"
"Let me see."
She felt his breath fan the hairs his fingers wandered through. She heard him inhale "Um-m," and she knew he was sniffing the heady aroma of her cunt. Something wet touched her.
"What are you doing?"
"Just checking. Hold still."
His hand clasping a hip felt rather nice, she thought. And then the wet firmness stabbed into the crease of her vulva.
"Oh! Oh-h, John." She giggled and stomped the floor, for now she was eager for a more thorough inspection.
"Come into the bedroom, baby, and take off your clothes. I gotta feel that big cock." It was an effort to pull herself from his wildly stabbing tongue, but she anticipated more than just a tongue-much more.
She wrenched herself from the grip of his hands at her buttocks and ran to her bedroom, tearing off her clothes as she ran.
"Why, you're beautiful, Johnny." She looked briefly at his slender body and long at his pulsing cock.
Within the softness of her hand John's cock throbbed and grew. His hands loved her big, slightly pendulous breasts, and he licked his lips as he moved to kiss her nipples.
She lay on her back, opened her legs and guided his prick towards her hot cunt.
"Make this a fast one, lover. My boyfriend is coming to take me out to dinner. You'd better be out of here by the time he comes. He's a big son of a bitch and jealous as hell."
She pulled John's cock and moved the head of it up and down her well-wetted slit. She centered it at the mouth of her pussy. "Push," she panted. And push he did, falling down onto her belly.
"Ah-h-h. Yeah. Go, man, go."
Her fingernails hurt as they dug into his back, forcing him deeper within her. She drove upward as he plunged down. Everything was perfect for them in Millie Porcine's bedroom.
It was a full ten minutes of pussy grinding, pelvis bumping, clitoris-crushing action until Millie felt the tremors begin in her belly. She felt John throb and thrust harder, and he felt the spasms of her clutching cunt. He couldn't keep from groaning when he felt a dam rupture inside and the burning, rushing tide of his cum flowing into Millie.
"J-John," she stuttered, "so-o much." She gasped, went rigid, and he heard her mouth naughty words as his cock was squeezed by her tight cunt.
"Ah-h," she sighed. She quivered and kissed him with quick, pecking kisses of appreciation. "I came, honey. You made me cum."
"I know, and you brought me around, too. I'm really pooped now."
"Me too. You sure know how to screw."
"I wish-well, never mind."
"What is it you wish, lover?"
"Nothing."
She kissed him tenderly. "Tell old Millie your troubles. She likes to help with peoples' problems."
He sat up beside her and brushed beads of sweat from his forehead. He wished he could screw Donna like he had just screwed Millie.
"If you don't want me to try to help you, honey, there's nothing more I can do for you, I guess." She swung her legs off the bed. He detected an undertone of chagrin in her voice, and he relented.
"I was going to say, I wish I could do as well with my wife, but that's sort of a thankless way of complimenting you."
"Oh, that's OK. I understand. Sometimes a guy can let himself go all out with another woman, even though he can't get the old rod stiff for his wife. I've had more than one lover like that. They all got cured, though, and then they left me holding the bag. But that's the story of my life-until I met George."
She glanced at her wrist watch. "Jesus, it's five-thirty. You'd better get lost. George will be here at any time." She ran into her bathroom, and John almost broke an arm getting dressed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
John was tired and thoroughly angry at himself by the time he got home at a little after twelve-thirty that night. He hoped Donna could help break his mood. But when he found her talking on the telephone, he frowned.
"Who was that?" he asked as she replaced the phone in its cradle.
"Louise Angstrom. She was calling from a discotheque where she and her husband are letting their hair down."
"Why would she call you at this time of the night and from such a place?"
"I believe she's drunk. Anyhow, they must be enjoying themselves."
"Who is Louise Angstrom?"
"She's the office manager at S.O.B. She's very nice, a good-looking woman even though she must be ten years older than I am."
John grunted and turned away. "What's her husband like?"
"I don't know. I've never met him."
"What's he do-for a living, I mean?"
"I really don't know. I should get to know those with whom I work better. That's why I invited the Angstroms for a cookout tomorrow evening."
"You invited them here? To our place?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"We can't afford steaks and all that sort of thing."
"They'll eat charcoal-cooked Salisbury steaks or go hungry. We have to have some friends. Louise is a doll, and I think you'll like her."
When she saw John leaving the room, saying nothing, Donna felt as if she were being shut out of everything. She was afraid of drawing away from people as John had done, and she knew they needed some sort of outside help.
* * *
As time to light the charcoal in the barbecue pit drew near on Sunday evening, John found himself looking forward to the arrival of Louise and Arthur Angstrom. They would at least break the monotony of a long, dull day. For the first time in nearly a year John bounced on the balls of his feet as he moved over the concrete blocks of the patio at the rear of their house.
"Are you sure they're our sort of people?" he asked.
"I'm sure. I like Louise, and you know I have a sort of instinct when it comes to matching personalities."
"So you think Louise will be a doll for me, huh?"
"I think so."
"And you're hungry for a strange cock? Is that the whole deal?"
"I have a hunch they're quite a bit like the Hagstrom's were."
"Damned if I'll hold still for a swap party! Oh, no, not again."
"That's what livened us up before when we got down in the dumps. Maybe it'll work again."
"No damned swapping. If I can't screw you, why should another guy get a crack at you?"
"Dog in the manger."
"So what if I am? Things were going good for us when we swapped with the Hagstrom's. Now hardly anything is working out."
"If I didn't know you better, John, I'd swear you were getting your tail somewhere else-and if you can, so can I. But I still think it's better if we do everything together. That's really what swapping is-a total togetherness among friends."
John was reminded of his session with Millie. Maybe Donna was right. At least he wouldn't feel so guilty if she knew when he laid another woman, but he wasn't about to tell her of the Millie incident.
"All I ask, dear, is for you to let yourself go for once. Have a good time with Louise without worrying about the future."
"Well-" He tried to imagine how she would look.
"You can try."
"Maybe I do need some strange pussy."
"And maybe I need a strange cock."
"That's different."
"I hope it will be. I haven't had any for so long. I wonder if I still remember how it's done."
He was adjusting the pan over the grill above the charcoal flames, and Donna was seeing to the supplies when the front door chimes rang. She flew through the house to let their guests in, and John looked expectantly at the door that opened onto the patio from their game room.
Louise's grey hair flowed from her head like foam from a mountain cascade. Her heart-shaped face gave no hint of her age, and there were no crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. John was surprised and pleased to see the two large hills that bulged her yellow, sleeveless sweater. She was wearing white hot pants that were duplicates of the ones Donna was wearing, and her legs were the shapely ones of a coed rather than those of a forty-year-old woman. John's interest rose rapidly, and he grinned as widely as he could.
"This is my husband, Arthur," she said, turning to a tall, gray-haired man.
"It's a pleasure," his heavy voice rumbled as he stuck out a meaty hand toward John.
In comparison with Arthur, John felt as a boy feels in the presence of a wrestler. He shot a quick glance at Donna, and his heart sank when he saw she was already clinging to Arthur's thick arm, staring up at him with sparkling eyes.
Louise noticed John's frown, and she sensed what he must be feeling. She went to him and clutched his arm as tightly as Donna was clinging to her husband.
"Thank goodness!" she said. "A man who's not muscle bound. Just what I've been looking for."
"Well, now, that turns me on, Louise. Flattery will get you everything." Donna was welcome to her muscle-bound boy. An hour in the sack with Louise could be out of this world.
"Are you a good cook, Louise?"
"I guess so. Why?"
"It's been so long since we've had a cookout I think I may have forgotten some of the fine points. Why not come and coach me as I tend the grill?"
"I'd love to." She turned to her husband. "I guess you and Donna can find something to do while I help John with the cooking, huh?"
He looked down into Donna's shining eyes. "Let's see what we can find to do in your game room until they holler for us to come and eat."
Louise went with John to the brick barbecue pit.
"Donna tells me you used to be a space scientist." She looked admiringly at John. "I adore brainy men."
"I wish she hadn't told you that."
"Well, she did. Driving a taxi is nothing to be ashamed of. Arthur has an appliance fix-it shop, and I'm certainly not too proud to say so. Now that you've fallen off your ivory tower, you can relax and live. There's no status with our sort of people that you have to live up to."
John flopped the hamburger steaks on the heated pan, and then he turned to Louise. "Don't you sort of resent having to work for a living?"
She laughed. "Hell, no. I'm glad to help Art. The trouble with you old-fashioned guys is that you think women are either more or less than human. That's what the women's lib movement is all about. They're trying to prove we're your equals in almost everything." Then she added, "In love making, too."
"Is that a fact?"
"Do you want me to prove it?"
"Sure. Prove it, if you can."
She slipped an arm around him. "Maybe I can't to your way of thinking, but I'll bet it'll be fun trying.
* * *
Donna, too, was teasing Arthur.
Her fingers slid along his thick biceps as she went behind the bar to get the pitcher of already-mixed martinis from the refrigerator. Arthur was a pleasant surprise, for she had not thought of Louise as a woman who would choose a muscleman for a husband.
Without taking her eyes from his broad chest that was covered by a wildly patterned knit short-sleeved shirt, she imagined how the muscles of his torso must look and feel. She ached to run her hand up under that shirt and feel those muscles rippling.
"That's more than enough for my first drink," he said. When she looked down, he laughed at her little cry, for his glass was overflowing.
While moving from behind the bar, she wondered now if there was an eagerness in her for a mate swap, yet it had been at her insistence she and John had dropped out of that swap club they had belonged to. It had been he who was reluctant to leave the fun and games, but now he wasn't eager to begin them again. She perched on the bar stool next to the one on which Arthur was sitting.
"I didn't know Louise had such a muscular husband. I almost envy her." She looked at the arm beside her own.
"From what I've seen, John doesn't look much like a lavender boy."
"He's certainly not that. It's just that he hasn't been himself for the past few months. I thought perhaps a change of pasture might liven him up, and-well, a girl can dream, can't she?" She ran a hand up and down his arm.
"And so can a man." He slid an arm around her waist, his hand enclosing her left breast.
From the way she trembled and leaned toward him, Arthur knew she wouldn't object to much, if anything, that he would do. Louise had not told him this woman was so hot to trot. Perhaps she hadn't suspected Donna's eagerness. He belched and excused himself.
"Must have been something I ate or drank." He belched again. "Sometimes rubbing my belly stops the belches; at least they stop when Louise rubs me." His dark eyes bore into hers. "Would you do that for me, since she's not around just now?" He raised his shirt, and Donna squealed when she placed her hand on his warm skin.
She felt much excitement when her hand bumped over the hard muscles of his torso; her cunt quivered and moistened. Her hand went beneath the elastic waistband of his slacks. Just as her fingers were wandering through his pubic hair, John called out, saying the steaks were ready to eat. "Oh, damn!" she muttered.
As she twisted sideways on the stool, Arthur's bold fingers stabbed up inside the nearest leg of her hot pants. She stiffened and gasped, and her eyes went round and bright.
"You're wet," he said. She nodded, not daring to move.
"You need a screw, Donna darling."
"I know."
"Alas, your husband calls. Your master's voice has spoken too soon."
Donna laughed as she moved away from the stool, you later, alligator."
"After supper, motherfucker," and they went laughing, hand in hand, out to the patio.
A quick glance and a nod passed between the Angstroms. The deal for the evening was set.
Donna caught John's eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow. A wave of gratefulness washed over her when he grinned and nodded.
After the remnants of the meal had been cleared away and the glow in the barbecue pit was but a pink blush, Louise teased John to an erotic response as Arthur began his seduction of Donna.
"Isn't there somewhere we can go for privacy, lover?" Louise asked.
"Sure. We can get with it in one of the guest bedrooms, if it's nooky you have in mind."
"Oh, that I do. You sort of turn me on, as the hippies say. How do I affect you, darling?"
He slid an arm around her waist, palming the gently moving, slight swell of her belly.
"Let's go see if our karmas are in harmony."
In the act of kissing Louise, John saw her big husband stoop and lift Donna and march into the house. He heard his wife's giggles and watched her legs flashing, bent over Arthur's muscular arm. He noticed, too, how tightly her arms clung to his neck. And then there were arms clenching around his own neck and a mouth gluing itself to his. Silently he marched Louise in an awkward, stiff-legged gait to the guest room that was next to the master bedroom to which Arthur had carried Donna.
As he and Louise undressed one another, they kissed each other everywhere they could. Her skin tastes good, John thought, and from her murmurs he knew she was savoring him.
They relaxed across the bed. He held her left breast as his other hand cupped her pussy, the fingers squeezing and stroking the moistening, swelling lips. He grunted when she seized his cock with both hands and drew it toward her.
"My, you're a big boy. Hurry up and stick it in. I'm ready."
"I doubt if I could be bigger than that mountain you're married to."
Louise giggled as she slipped a hand beneath his heavily filled balls. "You can't judge a book by its cover, dear."
"You mean-?" He hunched up into the harbor of her wide-spread legs.
"Huh-uh. You won't trick me into telling tales out of bed."
"I'll bet you'll tell Arthur everything I'm going to do to you, including how hard I'm going to make you cum."
"Now you're boasting." She pulled at him until the head of his cock was in the open mouth of her pussy. "Shove the damned thing in, if you're such a good cocksman."
He was pleased to learn he was better hung than her husband. Poor Donna, he thought. She likes big dicks, but now she was getting a small one. John chuckled as he tensed his muscles and drove hard into Louise.
"OH!" she cried. Her legs whipped high and flashed down over his back. She grunted at his first full thrust, and he liked the way her cunt rippled ahead of his advance.
"How does that grab you, Louise?" He circled her waist with an arm, and then he socked himself into her again and again.
"Keep going until I scream," she panted.
Steadily he plowed the field of lust, and steadily she rose to meet him.
Soon, almost too soon for John, she began to whimper and cover his face with quick, pecking kisses. "Make me cum," she gasped, tightening her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist.
John tried to think of irrelevant things to slow his rising lust, and he ground her hot, hard clit with his pelvis.
"I'm-going to-to make it," she panted. Her sudden shudder shook John as if he were a plaything. "Ahh!" she cried, spasming, milking him as he felt the hard heavings of her belly. Just as he felt the last flutterings of her pussy, his cum exploded from his control.
"John!" she whispered. "Oh-h, my God, so much-h-h." She went limp in his arms.
Later, as they were resting, she said simply, "I like you, John. I like you a lot."
"You're a good piece, Louise. The best I've had for a long time." She had made him feel like a man again.
"I hope we can swap again soon?" she sounded almost shy as she asked the question.
"If Donna and Arthur got half the kicks from their balling as we did, I'm sure it can be arranged."
As he watched Louise dressing after her shower, John knew he had to have her again and again. As an ego builder, Louise was tops.
Later in the evening, after the Angstroms had gone, Donna lay on the couch smoking a cigarette. Through slitted eyes she watched the blue smoke curl and swirl as she retraced incidents of her part of the swap. She tittered and moved her legs in memory of Arthur's hand going between them.
John glanced at her from his chair across the living room. His glance became a questioning stare when he noticed her cat-that-swallowed-the-canary smile. It was time for the rerun, like those that had so excited him when they had belonged to that swap club with the Hagstrom's.
"How was Arthur?" he asked.
"Um-m?" She giggled. "I'm still turned on."
"No finesse?"
"He had that, and that was about all he had."
"Oh?"
She moved again. A smooth leg arched upward at the knee, letting her sheer lounging robe part and fall to either side of the leg. Opening her eyes, she looked at her husband and felt a glow of desire because of the way he looked at her exposed, hairy crotch.
"What d'you mean, honey?"
"He wasn't hung as well as I'd thought he would be."
"Lots of wrestler-type men aren't. But I'm told it's not how big a man is, but how he uses what he has that sends women to climbing the walls."
"Oh, he used it all right. Maybe he would have sent some women. The bigness of the rest of him and his muscles were, well, overpowering, I'd guess you could say. But I like to feel full when I get screwed, and Arthur's cock felt like a boy's."
Donna looked at the lap of her husband's lounging robe, and she turned on her side to face him when she was sure there was a growing erection beneath the robe.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" He slid lower in his chair, and she noticed his hairy legs move apart.
She knew he wanted to be teased, and when she recalled the vigor with which he had fucked her two years ago, each time she had given him a play-byplay description, Donna closed her eyes and began to speak.
"He teased me until I wanted it so bad I would've raped him if I'd had the strength. I came before he mounted me, darling. He chewed my titties so hard I thought he was going to bite off the nipples-that's what drove me into orbit-you know how sensitive my nipples are. I think I'll have teeth marks for a week."
"Let's see." John squirmed. Donna opened her eyes and thought the bulge in his lap was getting larger.
She opened the top of her robe and slid it down her arms. Around the dark aureoles of each breast were the savage red marks of Arthur's teeth. The glitter that brightened John's gray eyes brought a knowing smile to Donna's lips, and when his tongue flicked out and back and forth, she laughed.
Cupping her right breast, she lifted it. "You look hungry, John. I'd like to have you taste it."
"They look sore."
"Not too sore for you to kiss them."
"What else did Arthur do?"
"Oh, the usual things: fingers and palms and deep kisses. He really has a tongue to match his physique."
"Did he go down on you?"
"No, and that surprised me. I asked him to, but he said that was about the only thing he wouldn't do for any woman but Louise. I thought that was sweet of him, to save something for his wife."
She looked between John's widely spread legs, and in the deep shadows of his robe she saw his hairy balls. They were much larger than Arthur's equipment, and she longed to feel them swinging against her buttocks.
"When he stuck it into you, was it all the way on the first stroke, or did he keep on teasing you?"
"All the way-y." She closed her eyes and recalled how easily Arthur's cock had slipped into her hot, lubricated cunt. "Then he bumped me hard and kept bumping until I thought he'd mash my clit to jelly."
"But you liked it?"
"Naturally."
"Don't tell me you just lay there taking it, Donna. I'll bet you nearly clawed his back to ribbons and kicked his ass until it was black and blue, huh?"
"I suppose I did."
"Even though he was as small as a boy?"
"You know me, honey. I go all out when anything is poking into me, even a man's finger."
"Just a man's?"
"John!"
"So you came again, of course?"
"That's the hell of it. Just as I was feeling all strained inside, as I was about to go over the hill once more, he groaned and shot me full of cum."
"You didn't get there?"
"No." She writhed on the couch and automatically her legs opened wide, the robe falling completely off her glowing pink body and thighs. "Come here, John. Please?"
With a little whimpering cry he jumped from the chair, shed his robe and leaped onto the couch, crouching over her.
Her mouth was wide open. Her eyes were slitted when he leaned down over the yearning body of his wife to kiss her and fill her mouth with his tongue. He felt the tickling of her moist and furry cunt. The heady scent of her filled his nostrils as he slid his arms around the body he loved so well.
The softness, the heat of her skin and the fluttering muscles in the low dome of her belly brought a groan of love from John. He felt her pussy searching for his cock, but the delight of his tongue in her mouth and hers in his mouth prevented him from releasing his clasp around her. Her thighs slid restlessly along his, parted widely and raised as her grasping hand reached down to enclose him and guide him home. The heat of her need became a tight oven around him, and for a moment her pussy quivered and would not let him in. He broke their kiss.
"Open up, darling. I have to screw the hell out of you."
"Yes. Oh-h, please. Please." And then she was fully open and he slid smoothly in. "Ah-h-h," she breathed.
"Home," he murmured. "Home at last." He drew back and sunk again. Again. Faster. All the way in, and then she writhed around him, caressing, fluttering, surrounding his throbbing cock with all the love a wife can give to her husband.
Her teeth nibbled the side of his throat, the top of his shoulder. Her panting breaths quickened in his ear. The female aroma grew stronger as did her up thrusts around him. His back thrilled to the drumming of her heels.
When her arms tightened around his neck, she breathed, "Fuck me hard, my darling. Oh, fuck me!
Harder he drove into her. He reached up and back and drew her legs high, over and down until her knees pressed her shoulders. Her feet were straight up, and her marvelous, twitching calves were gently wrapped around him.
She was a wildcat around him, fingernails tearing at his back, thighs smacking his sides and heels beating on his rump. Because of her frenzy he felt his balls lift and the familiar tightness grow in his lower body. Soon he would cum in the furnace of her vagina to drown the fires of her passion. A great wave of love washed through John, but he held himself rigid, letting her ride rapidly up and down his shaft. She must have this climax, and he must make her cum before he would.
"Ah-h, John. John. John." With each breathless call her body sucked at his, and she felt him throb and grow as he felt his control slipping.
"Come on, Donna," he groaned, not knowing if she heard him or not.
"I'm-I'm c-cuming-g-g ... ohhhh!"
His cum was released in liquid darts deep in her pussy. His loud, agonized groan drowned her final sigh. With a last flutter her cunt released his prick and it shrank rapidly out of her.
He rolled too far off her and tumbled to the floor. Looking up with exhaustion, John saw her arm dangling from the couch, her hand just above his face. He raised his head and took two fingers in his teeth, a love bite that lasted until she moaned and stirred and drew herself up to sit on the couch, gazing down at him in pleased disbelief.
"You-you made love to me, darling. You really did it!"
He sighed, reached out a hand and she helped him to sit up. "I really did," he said. "It was the best screw I've ever had."
She giggled, happy with the hope that now they could make love whenever they felt like it. She dared believe they had overcome his problem.
Of all the men Donna had taken on, none were as thoroughly satisfying as her darling John. None could get her as hot, nor had they felt as good as he always did. Those were the reasons why, in her mind, she could never be an adulterous woman. Other men could, and often had, brought her to climax. Some had shot her even more full of cum, but not one of them had nor ever could reach her far-down emotional depths but John. So how could letting other men screw her, even getting mighty charges of her own from the act, be anything but just fun and games? Her love for John would remain untouched.
A revelation came to her. She now understood how working women could lead two distinct lives; one at home, the other at work. Neither life need interfere with the other. No woman would tell her boss how often she and her husband made love nor in what sort of ways it was done, and neither would she tell her husband how often she became an office wife nor whether it happened on desk, chair, floor or office couch. She breathed a great sigh of relief. Her sexual tensions were removed for now and she need feel no guilt because of whatever would happen in the offices of S.O.B.
"Darling, that was really the most." She kissed John long and lovingly. "Now let's go to bed. Tomorrow's Monday, and it's usually a rough day around the office."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning Clay Hepburn had to blow the horn of his old car to summon Donna for their ride downtown. He held the door open for her when she ran to the driveway and hopped into his car. Her miniskirt slid high and would have revealed her panties had she not forgotten to wear them.
Clay whistled when he saw the brown tendrils of pubic hair just before she hastily tugged her skirt into place. His hand was almost trapped in its reaching as her thighs snapped together.
"Clay, no!" She giggled at his look of disappointment. "Get over there and start driving or we'll be late for work."
She sat close against him as he drove. His wandering hand and the fingers that curled and teased above the edge of her skirt affected her but little. She sighed, remembering last night, as she placed a restraining hand on Clay's wrist. If only John could be that much of a husband every time she needed a man!
"What's with you this morning, Donna? You don't want to play?"
"I'm not in the mood today."
"Oh?"
"Big night last night. I had a heavy date."
"With your husband?"
"That's none of your business."
"Sorry."
"Just for that, I'll let you guess, but he surely got to where I live. Any more of it and I'd never have made it to work this morning."
Clay frowned and felt his cock lengthening and throbbing, just from thinking about Donna being screwed. He took his hand from her leg and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
"Oh, well," he sighed, "there's this evening. Maybe you'll be in the mood for fun and games by then."
She smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "You're a good boy. We'll see how I feel by then."
When it was nearly time for the morning coffee break in the offices of Shafton, Oliver and Balaban, Louise stopped Donna as she was passing the office manager's desk.
"What have you there, Donna?" Louise nodded at the handful of papers.
"A batch of testimonial letters written by the customers of one of Mr. Hardin's clients. He said he wanted them."
"You're taking them to his office?"
"Yes."
Louise glanced at the big white-faced clock hanging high on the opposite wall. "It's five minutes of ten, almost time for our morning break. Why don't you leave that stuff here on my desk while you and I go down to The Rookery and have brunch?"
"Mr. Hardin wants these letters."
Louise sighed. "Monica is in his office just now. I don't think they want to be disturbed until after the coffee break."
Donna had forgotten her discovery of Leonard and Monica Lattimore as he was kissing his secretary. She recalled the angry look the woman had given her as Monica left the office.
"You mean she and Mr. Hardin are-?" and she giggled when Louise nodded.
"It's her turn to keep house while the rest of us women are loading up on coffee and sweet rolls."
She glanced again at the clock. "All right, girls," she sang out to the four stenographers, "let's go get it."
The hum and clacking of the electric typewriters stopped, replaced by female voices chattering and giggling as the girls rushed for the door.
"Come on, dear, maybe we can get a table or a booth to ourselves."
Donna knew that Louise wanted to talk over their swap party of yesterday evening. She, too, had some intimate questions to ask. Probably most swappers enjoyed the play-backs almost as much as they had liked the real thing. She grinned as Louise stood up and stepped from behind the desk.
The Rookery was a combination small restaurant and bar on the ground floor of the next building. At night it became an intimate little meeting place for both legitimate and clandestine lovers. From there they took off for the more glamorous night spots. During the day the restaurant was patronized almost entirely by people from offices in both buildings.
Louise and Donna considered themselves lucky to find one vacant booth, the last one of the six lining the right-hand wall of the place.
"Now we can talk, dear," Louise sighed.
Donna arched her eyebrows. "You've a question or two, I suppose?"
Louise was facing Donna, whose back was to the rear wall of the room. Louise glanced around, and when she saw no one was near enough to overhear them, she asked Donna in a quiet voice, "How did you like Art last night?"
"Well-oh, he was fine. I liked him very much."
"I know what you mean. He is rather small. It's all those hard muscles that send me. I really get turned on by muscle boys. Of course-" She gave her order to a waitress-"to get a cock that really fills me, I have to call in outside help." She laughed. "But you don't have that problem. My, but John is well hung."
"Yes, he is." Donna was pleased whenever someone admired anything that belonged to her.
"I believe he liked me, too. My pussy is still a little sore. No man would bang a woman that hard unless he liked the quality of what he was getting, wouldn't you think, Donna?"
"John liked you very much. He told me he hopes we can do it again soon. I guess I don't need to ask if you'll swing again?"
"Maybe I should be jealous, but I'm not."
"Why should you be?"
"Arthur raved all the way home about how you went all out."
The question Donna had wanted to ask was answered. She thought it best to say nothing further. She looked over the crowd and at the front door just in time to see Harold Shafton come in. His handless arm was around a slender young redhead whom Donna recognized as an apprentice commercial artist. The stump of his wrist was deeply indented in the slight swell of the girl's belly, and her fingers plucked his arm.
"Hmm," Donna mumbled, not intending to be heard. But Louise had heard, and she looked around to see what Donna was looking at.
"I'm with you, dear. I knew Harold is an old cunt hound, but I've never known him to be so indiscreet. Either he's flipped for Moira or he's trying especially hard to ball her. From this distance I can't tell which is the right guess."
Louise turned her attention to eating, but Donna absently dunked her sweet roll as she watched Shafton crowd Moira into a shadowed booth.
As Louise wiped her lips, she glanced at her wrist-watch. "I suppose we'd better be getting back. It's almost ten-thirty."
When they parted in front of Louise's desk, Donna picked up the pile of testimonial letters. "I'd better take these in to Mr. Hardin."
"Yes, but don't forget to knock before you go in."
"You've heard how I busted up something one day last week?"
"I heard."
"I'll bet I know who told you, but why did she?"
"Monica suggested I teach you better office manners. There are lots of things we can do here at S.O.B. and lots of things that just aren't done. Not knocking on a closed door before you go inside is one of the cardinal taboos."
So Donna tapped on Hardin's door, and when he called to her to come in, she put on a smile and went briskly into his office.
"What?" Hardin began, and then he noticed the letters in Donna's left hand. "Oh, yes, the testimonials." He stood up and moved to a spot beside the end of his desk. "Put them on my desk, dear."
When she put the letters down, he grabbed her wrist and tugged gently so that she was drawn off balance, hard against the full length of him.
"Mr. Hardin, please."
His other arm looped around her narrow waist, hugging her tightly to him.
"Since you said please, I'll have to oblige you because I'm a gentleman and you're such a sexy doll."
As she opened her mouth to protest, it was covered by his hot lips and filled with his lively tongue. She tried not to respond, but her own tongue curled around his, and she groaned as her balled fists pressed his chest. She tried to shake her head in denial, but a firm hand at the back of her head crushed their mouths together.
She felt his hand roaming up and down her back, settling onto a hip, and when he felt it flex and tremble, his fingers worked her skirt so high his hand clasped her bare flesh.
Her feet stamped the floor. She tried to turn sideways, for she did not want to become aroused by the swelling penis she felt pressing insistently just above her crotch.
Maybe Monica had not spent coffee break time in this office. Maybe it was the time of her month when she must remain inactive. Donna wished it was time for her own menses, for she did not want her body aroused by this man.
A thick finger slipped into the deep valley between her hips. She wriggled and squealed into Leonard's mouth because she was keenly sensitive at that particular place.
He drew his mouth from hers and laughed into her face without releasing his clutch on her hip.
"You left your panties at home, I see."
"That's none of your business, Mr. Hardin."
"Leonard, please."
He took a short step backward and slid his hand halfway around her body. She gasped and tried to bend over to dislocate his bold hand.
"Mr. Hardin-Leonard! Stop that."
His long middle finger searched frantically in her hole.
At Donna's gasp, he chuckled and pushed harder. For an instant her cunt tried to eject its invader, and then it suddenly opened, whipping hard at its seducer.
"Leonard-d-d," she moaned, feeling herself swelling and dampening. "Please don't."
"Don't what? Stop putting me on. No woman who leaves her panties off should expect anything but to get screwed. Why else would you be bare assed?"
"I was in too much of a hurry to put them on. Besides, how would I know anyone would need me for-for-"
"Well, I do need you, honey. I've a hardon a cat couldn't scratch. Here, feel it." He grabbed her hand, and she heard the racking sound of his descending zipper.
"No! Let go of my wrist."
But he put her hand on his throbbing prick. At once her fingers wrapped around it.
She wouldn't take him on if she could possibly avoid it, even though she was warm and ready for fucking. There was no real urge to make love. Without thinking much about what she was doing, her hand manipulated his cock with increasing speed.
"Oh, no you don't, Donna." He snatched her off her feet, marched behind his desk and socked her ass down onto its shiny top.
She wriggled and writhed to avoid his cock, but he grasped her knees and held them apart. She dug her nails into his cock, feeling suffocation overwhelming her as he leaned his chest against her face and bore her onto her back on his desk. With her free hand, she covered her pussy.
"No! Please, Leonard! I can't let you do it to me!" She writhed and kicked her legs out to either side of him. "My husband gave me hell last night. I'm too tired to be a good screw this morning. You won't like it. It'll be like doing it to a corpse."
"Oh, shut up, Donna. I know you're hot. I can feel how eager you are. Hold still for a minute."
"No! Let me go, damnit!"
"I have to ball you, baby. Two women in a row aren't going to cheat me."
"Let me up. I'll take care of you, but not this Way."
"How?"
"Sit in your chair. I'll kneel between your legs and suck you off."
"It's not the same feeling."
"It's that or nothing, unless you rape me."
"I've never had to rape a woman, but the idea has its points. Turn over onto your belly."
"No! I won't!"
"In that case-" He easily flopped her over, face down on his desk, and when she felt him kiss her pretty pink hips, she squealed and kicked back at his shins. But he held her pinned to his desk with one hand while with the other he fingered her cunt open and guided the head of his cock into it.
No! Oh, God, she thought, not dog-fashion. He'll go too deep. "Stop, Leonard, stop!" Her legs swung, trying hard to kick his shins.
She was still sore from John's pounding last night. She tried to cringe away from Hardin's cock. To protect itself, her cunt shrank away from its invader.
"Jesus, you're certainly loose today, doll. I might as well stick myself into a bucket of hot water. What the hell's wrong?"
"I-I told you, my husband gave me hell last night. Let me up."
He laughed. "There's another way of doing it that'll be better than fucking a vacuum." He poked a finger deeply into her asshole, and he laughed at her ragged gasp of pain.
She felt his cock leave her cunt, and then felt something blunt prodding between her ass cheeks. She suspected what he was about to do, and she squealed and wriggled in a vain attempt to avoid impalement. Lubricated as he was from her juices, the head of his cock was barred for but an instant. Then it popped through the grasping ring muscle of her anus. She screamed thinly and bit her forearm to stifle her cries of pain.
One of his arms was around her belly; a hand was on her shoulder, hauling her back around him. She could only lay there, breasts flattened on his desk, and feel his cock moving in and out, bringing a new stab of pain with each movement. She closed her eyes but still saw flashing lights and stars of agony until her sphincter relaxed and the pain faded to a strangely pleasant feeling of fullness. Not since she had been buggered in college by a half-crazy professor of history had she felt pain turn into a perverted feeling of pleasure. She wondered briefly if all women flipped at being filled, no matter where. For herself, she was feeling a rise of her passion because her clitoris was being ground by the edge of the desk. Her breasts were in good hands, hands that knew how and where to squeeze and finger. Her breathing was labored.
There came a vague feeling, not unlike the tightness that preceded her cuming, a stretching feeling that squeezed the juices from her sexual glands. A fluttering came to her flattened belly, just as it did before she climaxed.
"Oh-h, Leonard. Oh-h, Leonard-d-d."
"I knew you'd like it, once we really got hot together."
Now that the pain had melted from the heat of growing passion, her total feeling was not unlike that when her cunt was filled with a hard dick. A moment of dizziness washed over her brain, a tensing of all her nerves, and then-she came!
"Ah-h-h, Leonard. Ah-h-h!"
He shot into her as she lay limp and spent crosswise on his desk, feeling him throb out his final spurts of cum.
He pulled out of her and used his handkerchief to dry them both. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked as he stood her on her feet and held her steady until her sense of balance returned.
She avoided looking him in the face as she tugged her skirt into place. "Now if there's nothing more you need me for, I have to get back to work. I expect Louise will have something for me to do." She started for the door.
"Wait, Donna, there's one particular thing I want to talk over with you."
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"We have certain clients and prospective clients who sometimes must be sold on ideas that we hope will help to sell their products-ideas that may be different from their own misguided thoughts. Sometimes it has to be a hard sell and certain, uh, lines of persuasion must be pursued. We're just one big family here at S.O.B. We help each other as best we can. Sometimes these clients and prospects are best persuaded by feminine talent."
Donna understood his vagueness. It was a thin cover for the bold proposition he was leading to.
"Now here's what I want to ask you to do. I-"
"No, Mr. Hardin."
"But-"
"Go hire a professional persuader. I'm not about to become a company call girl."
"Call girls are too obvious."
"Then why not pick out one of the younger, single girls. Why me?"
"Do you really want to know?"
She stared at him, and in his leer she knew the answer. She turned once more to the door.
"Think it over. There'd be a nice chunk of bread in it for you."
"Thanks for the offer, Leonard, but my answer will have to be no."
CHAPTER NINE
Shortly after Donna left for work on Monday morning, John awoke, ate a light breakfast and went visiting employment agencies. At two of them he filled in application blanks. One was for employment with an ecological research group; the other was for an engineer in the research and development department of an exploration submarine company. He was confident he could fill either position, and so his answers to the questions on the blanks and his background resumes were precise and complete.
By the time he reported to the headquarters of O.K. Taxi for his evening shift, John was smiling.
"Uh, d'you wanta run me home now?" Millie asked.
"Sure, honey. Why not?"
But when they had parked near her apartment and she invited him in, he declined. "Not tonight, Millie, but be sure to ask me again."
Since he and Donna had so thoroughly screwed last night, Millie's offer was awkward, and his reply was a problem, but he hoped he had not offended Millie. He might have need of her bedroom athletics again.
When he thought of those application blanks he had filled in, he crossed his fingers as he had done when he was a boy hoping for some important event. He hoped Donna would not have to work for S.O.B. much longer, and he wondered if she felt the same way.
A half-hour after John delivered Millie, Clay Hepburn drove into the Redmond driveway and braked his car to a spine-jarring stop. Beside him Donna swayed forward, bracing herself against the instrument panel, for there were no seat nor shoulder belts in his old car.
"Gee, Donna, I don't see why you're flippin' your wig so high. Lots of women get propositioned every day, especially the sexiest ones. If you were a witch no guy would proposition you. So why the big flap about Hardin asking you to let some guy ball you? You've been around enough to know more deals are made in bedrooms than in offices. As long as you're paid, why should you holler?"
"Clay! Such an attitude, and you of all people." Her nostrils flared as she stared at him. "To think Hardin could even consider me as a sort of company call girl." She turned sideways on the seat and shook her finger in Clay's face. "How would you like it if your girlfriend's boss propositioned her with such a deal?"
"In the first place, I'm old enough to know a man doesn't proposition a doll unless she's given him an idea she could be coaxed along with the pitch. In the second place, I doubt if my girlfriend, if I had one, would blow her wig. She might even feel flattered. Who knows, Donna, you might draw a big handsome guy who would really turn you on."
"Only John turns me on."
Clay laughed. "That's a lot of crap and you know it. Maybe only he can turn you on so high, but other guys do turn you on-don't I know." He tried to slide his hand up her leg, but she slapped it away, and he looked so hurt she was instantly sorry.
"Oh, I'm so mad! I've been mad all day. I don't know why it tore me up so damned much." She did know. It was because the proposition had come the day after John had acted as a loving husband should. A week ago, she might have seriously considered becoming a company persuader. The extra money he had promised her would have been welcomed, the extra c0cks more so.
Donna surprised Clay. "Would you come in for a while? The way I feel, I can't stand fidgeting around, stewing in my anger until John gets home. Just for a little while? Please, Clay?"
"Sure. I'll come in, Donna." He didn't want to seem too eager.
"Maybe you can help me get out of the hellish mood I'm in." She couldn't understand why Hardin's suggestion had made her hate him so. She hadn't been wild with joy because of his screwing her in the janitor's apartment, but neither had she hated him for making her cum three times.
Clay refrained from putting his arm around her as they walked to the door of her house, but once they were inside, he became an eager boy trying for the candy treat.
The first time she twisted her head, violently tearing her lips from his, his tongue from her mouth, her anger was still blazing.
"Clay! Stop it! I'm in no mood for screwing." She reached behind her and tried to pull his hand from where his fingers bit deeply into her soft hips. "Let me go!" She felt his growing erection when he pulled her urgently to him. In spite of her anger, there was a sharp awareness of Clay as a man. "Goddamnit, no! Can't you understand? I don't want-"
His mouth was over hers again, his tongue plunging in and out. She stopped trying to push his hand from her back. She beat at his chest with an ineffectual fist, but she was careful not to strike his handsome face. She thought of biting his tongue, but in the act of closing her teeth on it, she groaned and opened her mouth wider. She could not hurt this boy who was her friend, who had nothing to do with the source of her anger. Even as she opened her mouth to receive more of his flailing tongue, she felt her anger change to desire. How many thousands of women had suddenly turned from anger or grief to passion, had become easy lays for the handiest man, Donna neither knew nor imagined; all her reactions to what Clay was doing were changing from vague fury to sympathy with his rising desire.
She groaned into his mouth, and when he felt her jaws relax and her fist stop striking his chest, he transferred his clutch of her from her hip to a breast. That was the catalyst that completely changed her anger to a need for a hard fucking. Her legs moved apart because her pussy lips were swelling, and she felt as if it were another's body when her pelvis swung to and fro, striking him softly.
He took his mouth slowly from hers, and her swollen lips searched his flaming-eyed face. "Clay," she whispered, "what are you doing to me?"
"I love you, Donna."
"Don't say that. I know you want me, but I can't love you. You're confusing love with something else."
"I do love you. I'm old enough to know the difference."
She silenced him with her avid mouth and her soft, hot tongue. The soreness of last night's screwing was gone. The memory of how Hardin had raped her on his desk was forgotten. Now there was but a gnawing need for the thumping rod of flesh that prodded her lower belly. She moved her body in tight circles, and she moaned with pleasure when Clay thrust at her. He was fired to a greater lust by the feel of her nipple swelling in his hand. Donna reached down between them and grasped the tab of his zipper.
They were deaf to the tiny clickings of parting zipper teeth, and both of them groaned when he reached up beneath the hem of her miniskirt and his fingers slid easily between her parted pussy lips. She broke their kiss.
"Lock the door, Clay, darling."
He barely heard her command and for a moment he dared not believe his ears. "Lock it and then carry me into a bedroom. We want this one to be out of this world, don't we?"
He was swift in locking the door and in carrying her to their bower of love. "Which way?" he asked when they had gone from the living room. She vaguely waved a hand and then clasped her arms around his neck. He peered down at her swollen, parted lips, at her slitted eyes. He murmured an endearment as he lowered her onto the bed in a guest bedroom.
From a flurry of fallen clothing, Clay took one step and kneeled on the bed beside Donna. It was the work of but a minute to help her out of her dress and bra, and there were her magnificent breasts pointing their nipples up to his drooling mouth.
"Oh-h, Clay. Clay," she breathed when his mouth closed around first one dark areola and then the other. Kiss me, darling, in both places."
And when she was aroused to a hip-swinging, undulating woman of intense desire, he breathed in her heady, sexual perfume and grinned, inching closer between her upraised, parted thighs.
Through slitted eyes Donna peered down at their bodies. She was fascinated by the upcurve of his cock, and she licked her lips in memory of its taste. At least now she would feel his cock inside her where it really counted. How would the strange upcurve feel?
"Hurry, Clay," she breathed, reaching her arms high to encircle his neck and shoulders.
When he had guided himself to her opened cunt, he slid his arms around her and saddled her hips with his hands. He stiffened for the initial lunge that he hoped would prove a seventeen-year-old was the equal of a mature, experienced mate. He flexed his hips, and as they quivered he slammed down with all his might.
She cried out, treating him to a look of shocked, delighted astonishment. Her feet flew high off the bed. Her knees jack knifed up and her legs snapped closed around him, trapping him deeply within the flexing, hot grip of her cunt.
"Mmnn, baby! Fuck the hell out of me!"
And so Clay plunged and drove into Donna and rotated his pelvis hard on hers, feeling the gristle of her clitoris squirming between them. He lowered his chin to the top of her shoulder, liking the tight clasp of her arms around his neck. His panting breaths on her ear made Donna a bucking, panting female who belonged totally to the man screwing her.
Harder and faster Clay drilled into her tight cunt. The rhythm of his plunges broke in midstroke when he felt her vagina seize him and quiver, felt her belly firm and tremble. He shuddered and spurted mightily into the depths of her spasming pussy.
"Ah-h-h," she sighed as he rested lightly on her, body kissing body as their mouths kissed each other. Slowly he moved from an awakening need to once more drive into her. But she did not let him stop with one encore. Twice again she loudly announced her cuming. The last time she climaxed, her teeth fastened onto his shoulder, and he knew he would bear her marks of passion for many days. Clay bore the pain easily, knowing each time he would look in the mirror as he shaved, he would feel her flexing around him, drawing forth his cum. Clay was proud that he could bring so experienced a woman to three hard cums in a row.
When he crawled off the bed, Donna lay snoring lightly, her mouth half open, lips widely parted. Her body gleamed with sweat. She was the most beautiful woman Clay had ever seen. He swallowed hard to dislodge the choking lump of infatuation that plugged his throat. A tiny exclamation of dismay came from his taut vocal cords when he saw his cum oozing from her pussy. He found the adjoining bathroom and returned with two fluffy towels, which he used to dry her body and his.
A brief, jealous rage brought mutters of senseless anger from him when he thought of her husband coming home to claim that which he had every right to demand of Donna. But in a saner moment Clay admitted to himself she must love John and not him. He had been only a stopgap for quieting the demands of her lovely body. With a deep sigh, a tear in each eye, the red-headed youth struggled into his clothing, leaving Donna lying nude on the bed. But at the door to the hall, he turned back, removed the towels, one from the bed beside her, the other from her leaking crotch. With the tenderness of a lover, he moved her legs together and crossed her hands over her stomach, just below her breasts. "So long, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice cracking.
* * *
As the hands of his luminous-dialed wrist watch approached midnight, John Redmond began to anticipate his return to Donna at the end of his shift.
How vivid in his memory flashed scenes from their wonderful session of fucking last night. How she had gone all out to drain him of his cum. How hard he had slammed into her, and how vigorously she had encouraged him to prod her over the brink of climax. Ringing again in his ears was her impassioned cry of lustful release. He felt again her strong, satin-skinned thighs locking their bodies together.
Promptly at midnight he checked taxi seventeen into the garage, recovered his own mechanical monster from the parking lot and raced for home. One hand held tightly the stiffened cock that would shortly be shoved up Donna's receptive cunt. God, how he loved her.
"Donna, I'm coming," he told the darkness of the night as his foot pushed harder down on the accelerator pedal.
CHAPTER TEN
Donna awoke suddenly from the deepest sleep she had known for months. She glanced around the room, startled because she was in a strange bedroom; then, she recognized it as a guest bedroom in her own house. She looked down at her naked body, wondering why she was here instead of being on the bed she shared with John. The memory portion of her mind awakened.
She lay perfectly still for a moment-until she saw in the empty air above her the redheaded office boy's passion-distorted face, His squinted, glittering eyes. She heard him groan and felt once more his upcurving cock gouging deeply, the head of it bumping past the swollen mouth of her cervix. She felt his pelvic bone delightfully grinding her clit. She passed an open-palmed hand slowly down her body to the sensitive nubbin. She idly flicked the end of her index finger across the tip of it.
A giggle broke the silence. She had just remembered it was on this very bed where Arthur Angstrom had teased her to a weak climax with his boy-sized cock. No wonder Louise thought John was such a good fuck. What woman wouldn't appreciate a real man after being irritated nearly every night by Arthur's little dingus.
Donna laughed. Had that been only last night? And then John's eager, strained face seemed to float into view. "Ah-h-h," she sighed. "I hope now that he's back in action, he can stay that way."
Merely recalling their love making set her up for a repeat. She smoothed the bedspread, gathered up her dress, bra and shoes and scampered to the master bedroom, thinking all the time of John.
"I hope he comes home early tonight," she said aloud while turning on the shower water.
When John came home, he found her asleep on the couch in the game room where she had been watching TV. The set was still on, but Donna was far more interesting than a fifteen-year-old movie.
He gazed down at her lovely body, hardly moving with the light breathing of deep sleep. The more interesting places of her anatomy were enhanced rather than hidden by her smoke-thin peignoir. He felt himself swell and throb. With a sound of impatience, he snapped off the TV set, went to where she lay and carefully cradled her in his arms. Then he glided toward their bedroom.
She's dreaming, he thought when she murmured something unintelligible and smiled without opening her eyes. Through his arms that held her tenderly, he felt the rhythm of her breathing increase. He thought she unconsciously knew whose arms held her.
"Clay," he heard her say softly but distinctly, and he nearly dropped her. He almost ran the final few steps to their room, his anger had flared so suddenly. He was trembling all over as he restrained his urge to dump her on the bed.
When he took his arms from beneath her, he stood for a moment glaring down into her beautiful face. He noticed the tip of her tongue moving between her parted lips. He noted the tight squinting of her eyes. Her breath paused when his fingers brushed lightly over her right breast, and he muttered an angry phrase under his breath.
Clay? Who was he? And then John recalled that that was the name of the office boy who drove her to and from the offices of S.O.B. Surely she couldn't become aroused by a kid almost young enough to be her son? But he remembered a dream he had had wherein he saw the redhead riding Donna.
"Bitch!" he spat at her as he began to get ready for bed. His thoughts were violent, confused by a wrath he had seldom known. She was his, and his alone-or so he had disciplined himself to believe. All the mate swapping this side of hell would not change his feeling of possession of Donna. But tonight the name she had spoken from the depths of dreamland had been husky with passion. "Bitch! Damned bitch in heat, that's what you are!" he sputtered.
Crawling into bed beside her, he lay as far away from Donna as he could, but his anger kept him awake and his erection persisted.
He grasped his cock in a tight, wrathful fist, as if it belonged to Clay and he would tear the male stem from the youthful body. Maybe it was Clay's youthful vigor she was dreaming of. Perhaps he, her loving husband, was no longer man enough for her. After all, she was younger than himself. Maybe her sex drive was more suited to youthful lust than the uninspired love making of a long time mate.
He must be insane to let a breathed word trouble him so deeply. Even as he recognized the cause of his anger might be his distorted imagination, he saw in his mind the redheaded boy screwing Donna. There she lay on this very bed, rising up to the poundings of her lover as Clay's vigorous delvings beat her soft, eager body up the path toward climax. He smelled the bittersweet scent of her wet pussy, heard the sucking sounds of her vagina grasping frantically at Clay's slippery cock. His own fist jacked back and forth, tromboning more and more feeling into his rock-hard cock.
On the projection screen of his closed eyelids, John watched his wife's lovely arms whip up and around her lover's neck. He saw her legs double up and fall over the boy's back, her heels thumping on the plunging rump.
John groaned, and despite his mental torture he came and came again, wasting the semen that should have been a reward to Donna for he? excellent fucking.
"Damn it to hell." His voice was gritty as sandpaper as he sprang from the bed and rushed into the adjoining bathroom. He glanced at his still sleeping mate when he returned, made a sour face and wondered when, if ever, he would regain his desire to screw her.
* * *
Donna was puzzled and worried the next morning because John had not screwed her last night. Were they back to the celibate freeze once more? But why? She studied his sleeping face carefully before she went into the living room to await Clay's arrival.
Clay was all smiles, but his cheerful face had the reverse effect on Donna. She frowned at him.
"You're really there with the bedroom bounce," he said. "You're the most, honey."
"Oh, shut up, Clay. It was a mistake. Don't ever bring up the subject again."
"Don't-?" He was shocked. "You've got to be putting me on. You were with it all the way last night. I know you were."
"Please, Clay, don't mention what we did, not ever again."
"I dig the switch. I wasn't man enough to get you where you live. OK, if that's the way you want to play." He sent the car rocketing down the street.
"Hardin was wrong when he thought you'd make a good company persuader. Maybe you would have once, but what guy in his right mind would ask for seconds?"
"Clay!"
"Well, hell, you change sides quicker than a losing politician."
She saw the hurt in his eyes, and she was sorry to have yelled at the boy.
"I don't know why Hardin even thought of offering you the job. He must feel that new stuff is needed."
"Who usually does the persuading?"
"I can't say. That would be telling tales out of school. Oh, hell, forget I said anything." All the way to the parking lot they sat stiff and silent and hostile.
Until Friday nothing eventful happened either to Donna or to John. She was itching for a good, sound screwing, but John had once again become melancholy and something told her not to start the action. She began to look at Leonard Hardin with longing eyes. Carelessness was her excuse to herself for letting him see high up her legs, see her breasts bounce as she put an extra jolt in her step.
So it was hardly surprising when Tight after lunch on Friday Hardin asked Louise to send Donna into his office.
"I think the bad wolf could bite you today. He has an awfully horny look," Louise told Donna.
"And so?"
Louise squinted her eyes and grinned. "On second thought, you have that look, too."
"Louise!"
"Let's face it. To an old pro like me I can see you aren't getting enough peter. Take it where you find it is my motto. Life's too short to pass up any fun."
"By the way, Art can't help you this weekend. We've already made a date to swap with another couple."
"Yes? Well, it was fun. Did Hardin mention what he wanted me for?"
"No. Maybe he's going to try again to sell you on that company persuader deal you were telling me about."
"I hope he doesn't try. I might flip my wig."
"Why should you? I wish someone would offer to pay me for balling some good-looking guy."
Donna walked toward Hardin's office.
Louise watched her go and there was a strange light in her eyes as she watched Donna's hips wiggle.
Leonard Hardin, sitting back in his chair behind the desk, watched the door open. Donna came in quickly, closing the door behind her. "Um-m-m," Leonard murmured because she was wearing a yellow blouse and a tan miniskirt that had two wide, cloth straps running up over her shoulders and down to the skirt in the rear. Those straps emphasized the swell of the breasts they crossed. Leonard caught himself licking his lips.
"Do you want me for something, Mr. Hardin?"
"I sure do, honey. Have a seat. He flapped a hand at the chair beside his desk.
She sat primly on the chair, folding her hands on her lap. She looked so much like a young and tender schoolgirl, Leonard felt a vigorous stirring in his loins.
"Have you come to a decision yet, Donna?"
"Decision? What about?"
"What we were talking about the other day-that business of becoming a company ambassador."
"So that's what you call it-balling with clients and prospective customers?"
He nodded. "Let's put it this way; if you thought taking the guy on was necessary to sell him on whatever idea we were pushing for or against, that would be your decision. I can't say whether you should let the man screw you or not. Circumstances and your own judgment should tell you how best to accomplish the results we must have."
Pictures of all sorts of men flashed through Donna's mind. Since she had had no love making for almost a week, she felt herself moisten. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. By her restless movements, Leonard knew she was aching for a screw. She saw his smile become a grin and knew that he sensed her need.
For a moment she was horrified to think she was considering such a proposal, but then she recalled deciding that whatever she did with or for her employers had no connection with her love for John. She must be two different women.
"How much would the job pay?"
"I'd say in the neighborhood of two hundred for each successful project."
"Two hundred dollars?"
"At first. After you've proved your efficiency, I think we could raise the ante maybe another hundred bucks."
She sat staring at him, unable to speak.
"Look at it this way, Donna. If you should decide to-er-put out, you'd get half the fun and all the gravy. What more could any woman want?"
"Leonard! You make it sound so revolting."
He stared at the satiny underside of a thigh that was crossed up and over her other leg. Jesus, she's a doll, he thought.
"I'll have to have an answer Monday, or I'll have to hunt for someone else to fill the bill."
"I'd have to be home by midnight. That's when my husband's shift ends."
Leonard shook his head. "Such a piece of business will require an all night stand. You'll have to dream up a girlfriend or a distant relative to stay with those nights that you'll be busy. How you would con your husband would be your problem. I'm sure you're a bright enough girl to find a suitable alibi."
"I guess I could," she breathed.
For years Donna had known that on certain days of the month she wanted a man much more than on other days. The need to make love was then almost an obsession. More than one man whom she wouldn't have considered fucking-had been able to lay her during those days when her need to be screwed was almost overpowering. With a start she realized this was the first day of her lust cycle.
Experienced cocksman that he was, Leonard sensed something of her condition. His cock responded with a hardness and a thumping that he hoped Donna could notice, for he knew many women became turned on by seeing the bulge of a thumping cock in a man's pants. He was sure Donna was one of them. He stroked his leg and grasped the bump to draw her attention to his readiness, and he noticed her long lashed eyelids flutter.
He hitched his chair on its ball casters close enough to where she sat so that he could caress any part of her that he wanted to. He laid a hand on the outside of her leg that was crossed over the other. He leaned forward and grinned even wider as he saw her lick her lips and stare at his beard that was nearing the low-cut neck of her blouse.
She tightened the leg that was crossed over the other, her thigh muscles embracing her stiffening clitoris and her swelling pussy lips. The stroking of his hand caused her to swell more, and she had to part her legs. A sigh brushed his lips as they met hers, and his hand slid up the guiding shafts of her thigh flesh to the damp crotch of her panties.
His beard tickled the top swells of both breasts as they kissed, and Donna's nerves fluttered. She flung her arms around his neck, and she slid low on the chair seat as her lower body thrust itself out to meet the pressure of his hand. A familiar dizziness came to cloud her thoughts, and she moaned into his mouth as his hands deftly stripped her panties all the way down her legs and off.
His nostrils flared from the heady scent of her arousal. With a growl of passion, he broke their kiss, dropped to his knees, and Donna squealed when his avid mouth closed over her cunt lips.
"Leonard-d-d," she gasped, shoving her cunt around his spearing tongue. "Oh-h, Leonard. Leonard, I'm-ah-h-h." Her thighs vised his ears, and he rapidly drank her flow of cunt juice.
He got off his knees and leaned into the harbor of her widely parted legs. She felt his rock-hard cock poking at her spread pussy.
"Please, Leonard, don't fuck me here."
"Don't snow job me, doll. You need a screw bad, and so do I. Floor or desk? It's your choice."
"What about-Please, no. Not-not here." His peter was already two inches inside her vagina.
"Shut up, Donna. You want it. Don't fight me."
"Yes! Yes, I want it, but not here. What-what about the janitor's apartment? There's a bed down there."
"Good girl! You like your comfort, too." He stood up and held out a hand to help her out of the chair.
She could hardly stand alone because of her excitement. He steadied her, kissed her deeply until she groaned, and then he helped her to the door. They paused before he opened it.
"All right now?"
"I-I think so." She stiffened her back and breathed deeply. "Until we get to the basement, I hope. But don't touch me or I might explode."
Both of them wished the elevator descend faster to the basement. When it did settle to a stop and the door slid open, they only stepped from the car before they were in a panting, sighing clinch of passion, entwined in each other's arms.
"Come on, Leonard," she husked, taking his hand and leading the way to the apartment door at the end of the passageway.
As Hardin whipped out his key, Donna ran the zipper on his pants down all the way and brought forth his upcurving, throbbing cock.
Just as he jabbed the key at the hole in the doorknob, they heard a groan coming from within the room. Then Leonard noticed the door was half an inch ajar. He looked at Donna and she raised her eyebrows. He carefully pushed the door open. Donna's fingers were still encircling his peter.
On the bed lay a girl with her clothing disarranged. Her skirt had been flung up over her belly and a hard nippled breast jutted high above the opened bodice of her dress. Between her shapely legs a masculine arm was plunging evenly back and forth. At each forward stroke, the Woman groaned and closed her legs about the arm. A rapid glance told Donna and Leonard the man attached to the arm was Harold Shafton, kneeling on the bed.
Donna saw a profile of the woman's closed-eyed face whose lips were stretched tightly around Harold's prick. The woman, or girl, was the one he had been with in The Rookery, Moira something or other. But why wasn't Shafton pounding his cock into her? She jerked Leonard's peter until she attracted his attention. She raised her eyebrows in a questioning gesture and nodded at the couple on the bed.
"That's Harold's favorite way of getting his jollies and satisfying his doll of the moment. Watch," Leonard whispered.
Donna saw that it was the stump of Shafton's wrist that was the phallus fucking Moira. By the way the girl's body sprang up around that arm that was thicker than the peter in her mouth, Donna and Leonard knew she was having a ball. Her groans grew louder. Her head bobbed faster, and the palms of her hands beat the bed.
"Jesus," Donna whispered, clasping Leonard so hard he winced and tried to pry her fingers free of his tortured cock.
Disgusting though she thought it was for a man to masturbate a woman, Donna easily imagined how satisfying it could be-all that plunging muscle and flesh and bone spearing into her famished pussy. She shuddered and turned away.
"Come on, Len, shut the damned door." She breathed hoarsely, feeling her hot juices running faster.
She led him by the cock to the end of the cross passage-to the same place where he had fucked her the first time when her head had been stuffed between the shelves. She bent double, far over, her hands grasping her ankles, her ass jutting up directly before Leonard.
"Well, stick it in, lover. I'm burning up-I need it. I want it."
He flung her short skirt up out of the way and guided himself with one hand. He looped his other arm around her, his fumbling fingers locating her clitoris. She swayed readily back to impale her love-hungry cunt, and when he slid easily in, all the way in, she groaned and quivered.
The fire of their lust flared high in Donna and in Leonard. A dozen vigorous strokes were enough for him to cum, and when his cum exploded in her cunt, she, too, exploded.
"Oh, oh no!" she sighed and sank to the concrete floor, beating her palms on the cement.
Leonard breathed long and raggedly, his eyes turning back in his head for a moment as he sank to his knees beside her.
Donna recovered first. She grinned down at Leonard as she held out a hand to help him off his knees. "That was great for a starter, honey," she said.
He was still panting when he stood up and staggered sideways to lean against the wall.
"Baby, you have more than it takes to drain a man."
"When they get through in there, we can really romp up a storm." She gestured toward the apartment door.
"Sorry to disappoint you, baby, but you've really shot me down. I guess I'm older than I thought I was."
"Chicken."
"Could be, but I'm a pooped chicken."
"Are you serious, Leonard? Only one screw and you're through? The last time we balled we came four times, once out here and three times on the bed."
"You came four times. I only came once, just as you made it the last time. One-shot Hardin the girls called me when I was in college. Seeing Harold socking his arm way up into Moira, watching her heave around it, hearing her panting supercharged me. I couldn't hold back this time."
"Well, hell!"
"Yeah. That's what I say."
Leonard stuffed himself back into his pants and zipped his fly up. "Don't forget to tell me whether you'll take up that offer I made you. I'll have to know not later than noon Monday."
As they passed the apartment door, they heard Moira barking out shrill little yelps. "I guess she's cuming," Leonard remarked.
Donna wished he was saying that about her. She felt her insides heave and roll in perfect time to the yelps.
"If we're through down here, Len, let's go. I can't listen to her any longer.
I have to have relief, Donna told herself on the way up to the seventh floor. After Clay takes me home tonight, I'll have him take care of me even if I have to rape him. The thought of his peter excited her even more. She felt the heat of her flushed face.
* * *
"What happened to you, kid?" Louise asked when Donna went to her for another work assignment. "As if I couldn't guess."
"Not what you think."
Louise's arm shot out and her hand disappeared beneath Donna's skirt. Donna gasped and jumped clear of the searching hand. Louise grinned and laughed again as she stared at Donna's red face.
"There's no sense trying to lie to me about something like that. He left you hanging, didn't he?"
Donna nodded and turned away. She didn't see Louise plunge a finger into her mouth or her broad smile when she withdrew the finger.
"If there's anything I can do to help you, Donna, don't be bashful; just say so."
What a strange thing to say, Donna thought as she accepted another chore from Louise.
Every time she came face to face with Clay, she smiled at him and winked. Her wink was her way of telling him she wanted the same thing he did.
Louise had seen some of the winks, and she guessed their meaning. Shortly after four o'clock she sent Clay on an errand to pick up some advertising material from an office halfway across the city.
At four-thirty Donna came to Louise's desk, looking worried. "Have you seen Clay? He's going to drive me home. I hope he didn't forget and leave already."
"I had to send him to Feany and McSpade. I've no idea when he'll get back." She let Donna worry for a long minute. "Would you like me to drive you home, honey?"
"You? But that's out of your way."
"Think nothing of it. I like to do favors for my friends."
"Well, I really haven't a way home unless I'd call a taxi. I might get John's cab, and I don't feel like seeing him yet."
Louise nodded and winked. "I know what you mean. You have to calm down inside before you can get with the domestic scene. Then it's settled. I'll drive you home. Wait here. I'll only be a minute powdering my nose."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Donna fidgeted in Louise's car all the way home, and after they were settled in the game room, her shaking hand spilled the drinks she mixed.
"As my mother used to ask me when I was turned on, 'What's the matter, dear, ants in your pants?' " Louise asked, wearing a knowing grin.
"I don't know why I'm so nervous."
"Let's see if that's your trouble." Louise darted a seeking hand up Donna's legs. She found the brunette swollen and moist. "Can't be that. You aren't wearing panties."
"Oh-h," Donna gasped, for she recalled leaving her panties on Hardin's office floor.
"Finish your drink and then I'll help you."
Donna wasn't sure she wanted to be helped by a woman. There were those two adventures while she was in college. She had forgotten the girls' names and some of the details of her seduction, but the way she had responded to them was fresh in her memory. She had nearly gone out of her mind each time. How emptied of passion she had been for days. Now that John seemed to be regaining his manhood, she did not want an episode that might make her cool to any of his approaches.
She slid off the bar stool and moved away from where Louise still sat. But she stared, entranced, at Louise's grinning face when the woman glided to where she stood, waiting. Soft arms encircled her. Only for a moment could she keep her lips closed to the soft, probing tongue.
A groan, a shudder, and her own arms went around Louise. Belly to belly, breast to breast they stood kissing. It was a soft, unhurried kiss with little of the urgent, tongue-flailing excitement of a man kissing a woman. Donna felt desire rising slowly within her, and she groaned into her lover's mouth.
Louise broke their kiss. The parting of their lips was gentle and slow. She led Donna to the long couch that stood against one wall of the room.
"We shouldn't," Donna murmured.
"Of course we should. You're out of your skull with wanting to."
"Not-not like this. I need a man "
"You need relief, and I need you, darling."
Before they sat on the couch, they kissed again. There was strength in Donna's arms when they went around Louise this time. They sat down, still kissing, and Donna felt her blouse drawn from her skirt. Her breathing paused when fingers captured a breast and a thumb flipped boldly over the nipple.
She sighed and clasped Louise with a sudden, impulsive gesture of surrender.
John, she thought, why can't it be you?
But John was having trouble with his taxi cab. He had returned it to the company's garage. The mechanic shook his head and said, "She needs a major tune-up and an accelerator link replaced. Your car's had it for today."
"So check out another car to me and I'll be on my way. I'm losing money standing around here."
"Sorry, John, all the other cabs are either in service or torn down for repairs. It happens like this once in a while."
"What'll I do?"
"Go home, I guess. That's about all you can do, isn't it?"
John was too angry to answer the grease monkey. He climbed into his own car and drove away.
He was angry and gloomy at the same time. There was another year's financing due on this car. There had been no reply to the two employment applications he had filled out.
He hardly thought of home or of Donna until he turned into his driveway and saw a strange car parked there.
Oh, no, he thought, not visitors this evening of all evenings. He realized that whomever the car belonged to could hardly have come to visit him so early in the evening. They could only be friends of Donna. A man? A bill collector? He slammed the car door and went charging into his house.
He saw no one in the living room. He headed for the bar in the game room. God, how he needed a drink.
A woman giggled. He heard a loud gasp. The sounds came from the game room. At the doorway he stopped and squinted into the softly lighted room. Something was moving just above the couch.
Slowly he approached the couch, recognizing the moving something as the bare behind of a woman. Just below the flexing, churning hips were two hair-bordered creases, one squashing down on the other. He was close now, so close he could reach out and touch the naked ass. He peered around it and saw Donna lying nude beneath the equally bared body of Louise, who was riding Donna exactly as he did when he was not beset with worry.
Donna's arms were around the body that gyrated on her own, her fingers scrabbling at the buttocks. Beside Louise's thighs, Donna's feet thumped the seat cushions of the couch. "He-he-he," she giggled, and John muttered to himself. Was this the best she could do? If she needed to be screwed, why not by a man?
The sounds of female-to-female love making seemed loud and obscene. The sight of Donna's breasts being crushed by those of a woman looked repulsive to John. Disgusted though he was, he thought of revenge. As his cock hardened and throbbed, he felt an overpowering need to screw.
So he hopped out of his pants and shorts, and as he knelt behind Louise's churning ass, he heard the liquid sounds of a passionate kiss.
The women were too enthralled to notice him. The first Louise knew John had discovered them was when she felt a hand bearing heavily on her back and a blunt knob pressing lower than her hips, pressing at the lubricated entrance to her vagina.
"What-?" she squealed, looking over her shoulder directly into John's leering face. She screamed-a knife-sharp, thin sound that brought Donna's eyes wide open. She, too, stared wide-eyed at her husband's face.
"John! Oh, my God! Let me up, Louise. Get off me!"
"I-I can't. He's-he's-" She cried out, a ragged, barking cry. John was plunging into her cunt, crushing her body to Donna's. He was in! She couldn't have stopped him, and now he drove into her and drew slowly back, time after time. "Ah-h," she sighed.
Donna felt through her belly John's cock sliding into and almost out of Louise. The feeling was totally new, sensational! Her climax was nearing rapidly.
Leaning down hard on Louise, John enjoyed the feeling of muscle play in her back that stirred him to a more vigorous attack.
"No! Pull it out," Louise insisted, in vain. How deep he-was in there. How hot and hard and passion stirring were his thrusts, and the force of his drives ground her pubes hard on Donna.
John slipped both hands between the writhing women and captured Louise's breasts. He squeezed them hard, and he grinned when she moaned.
From above the back of Louise's head, John grinned down into the lust-glazed eyes of his wife. He surged into Louise viciously, driving gasp after gasp from her.
From the added weight and the force of her husband's thrust into her lover, Donna felt her sensations growing sharper, shimmering and waiting for the final burst of flame that would send her into orbit.
Back and forth John see-sawed on Louise's rump, his swaying testicles swinging between her legs, smacking his wife's cunt.
"Oh! Oh!" Donna gasped. She swung her legs high, trying to enclose both bodies in their grip. But she could not reach up over John's back. She could only kick his sides with her knees and his back with her heels and press herself up tighter to Louise. "Oh, I'm-" she gasped.
Both Louise and John felt Donna's surge beneath them, and they were nearly deafened when she cried out, "Ohh-ohh-" and raised them both from the force of her spending passion.
John gripped Louise's shoulders when he felt the icy tenseness that foretold his cuming, and then he burst and flooded her snatching vagina.
His thrusts were short and rapid with the speed of a jack hammer, until Louise bawled an obscenity and spasmed around him, her vagina sucking forth his seed in a climax so hard it shocked her into silence.
Louise had long been gone when Donna opened her eyes and saw John lying beside her on the couch, staring with open, meaningless eyes.
"John," she whispered, "I'm sorry you saw-"
He laid a gentle hand over her mouth. "Don't ever mention it again. I know you felt neglected, but there wasn't anything I could do until she was finished with you. By the way, how was your double fucking?"
"John, dear! Don't ask such a question. I'm so humiliated."
Calmer now that the edge was gone from his anger, John understood how easily one woman could seduce another. "It sure turned me on. Maybe we can set up the same play the next time we swap with Louise and Arthur. I'll bet it'd really turn him on, too."
She looked down at his shrunken peter and found a challenge there. She took it in her hand and squeezed with a wifely, loving grasp.
"Do you think you could screw me the next time you get hot pants, honey?"
"Oh, I think I could." He rolled to her and enclosed her supple body in the tight grip of his arms.
"Let's see what a little help can do. Go down on me, honey."
She did as he asked, and soon he had a hardon. Then he fucked her. Three times her cry of completion ripped through the stillness of their game room, and then they fell asleep in each other's arms.
John awoke first, some two hours later. He yawned and glanced at his watch and saw with surprise the hands pointing to seven o'clock. The summer sunset that haloed the trees in the back yard reminded him of his unprofitable night. Tomorrow would be Saturday, usually a profitable day for taxi drivers. So he sighed, crossed his fingers and hoped for the best. He moved off the couch, careful not to awaken the sleeping beauty who was his wife.
From behind the bar, where he mixed himself an eye opener, he glanced at Donna. Nude, her pink, healthy skin, the high, firm hills of her barely moving breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, the deep eye of her navel and the graceful sweep of her legs that had fallen slightly apart, reminded him of the banana splits he had loved to eat as a boy. He captured a green maraschino cherry from the bottle on the work space behind the bar. Then, with a mischievous giggle, he went to place the cherry in Donna's deep navel.
He looked down at his wife. With a nostalgic hunger, his imagination turned her into a banana split. He leaned and kissed the two raspberries that Were her nipples. He licked the surface of her peach ice cream skin.
"Delicious," he said aloud.
Looking up and down the length of his confection, his nostrils caught a familiar perfume. Butterscotch the syrup the soda jerk had poured over the split always gathered at one end of the long glass dish, and even now the syrup was pooled at the south end of his delicacy.
With a whimper of unleashed hunger, he got down on the floor and ate the cherry from her navel.
"John! What-?" Donna awoke to the strange, exciting sensation of being laved by a hot tongue, chewed by teeth that were careful not to hurt her. "No, darling! Wait! Wait. It's time I got up to cook dinner. Please, John."
But he pushed her rising shoulders down onto the couch so that he could finish eating his banana split.
"After a while, crocodile," Donna breathed, relaxing even as she giggled and closed her eyes once more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
And so Friday night passed dinnerless for Donna. There was only a live, warm and succulent banana split for John. Saturday was a day of vigorous love making. Four times John fucked his eager Wife. Four times she cried out and spasmed and milked him dry.
What the cause of all this sudden activity was Donna neither knew nor cared. John was more of a man than he had been since their passion-frenzied honeymoon.
Late in the afternoon John kissed her soundly, his hands clawing her hips and drawing the arch of her pelvis to him. But as he felt himself quiver and throb, he knew it was too late for a fifth session of love making. He had to drive down to the garage to see if cab number seventeen had been repaired.
"Don't put out to strange men," he joked as he winked at Donna and slid onto the front seat of their Ninety-Eight.
Driving along the freeway he wondered why he had been so horny last night and today. Could it have been his seeing Louise making love to Donna, or discovering how badly she needed relief? As he turned into the taxi company parking lot, he came to the conclusion it was not one thing alone that had turned him on, but the combination of the two discoveries.
"How about driving me home?" Millie asked when he checked in at the office for his usual shift.
"Sure, doll. I'm all set up and rarin' to go."
"Not tonight, lover. George is coming to take me to dinner and such."
He wasn't really disappointed, although he pretended to feel cheated.
For the first time in many months Donna hummed as she did her housework. She was looking forward to Sunday. She fancied it would be one long bout of screwing.
Neither she nor John could have foreseen the ambulating drunk who staggered and lurched into the path of his car on the way home. He yanked the steering wheel of their car to the right, and the handsome car crashed against the sturdy column of a street light post.
The police were understanding. They handed him no traffic summons, but the car was disabled by a broken radiator, a bent front wheel suspension system and a possible sprung frame.
When John got home, it was almost dawn. He awoke Donna and told her of the accident, and he broke down and cried.
"Don't worry about it, darling," Donna said. "Get undressed and come to bed. Momma will help you."
But he could not make love to her. He was too embittered by the loss of their car. They both knew they might have to pay off the mortgage and buy another car.
Donna recalled Hardin's proposition, the money that he had promised her, and she shuddered in the darkness of the bedroom. She drew away from her husband, trying not to let him feel her trembling.
"It's going to be all right, dear. Mr. Hardin has offered me a chance to earn some extra money, if I can be a sort of company ambassador to a few of their more reluctant clients."
"What would you have to do?"
"Just be a pleasant convincer to show them the way S.O.B. intends to present their products is the best way to succeed."
She felt John raise up on an elbow beside her. "What you really mean is that you would have to be some guy's date. Isn't that what you're trying to say?"
"Louise will be my chaperone. There's nothing wrong with the set-up as I see it, darling."
She heard him snort in the darkness of their bedroom. "Well, there's plenty wrong with it from my viewpoint. What if the, uh, client wanted to fuck you? Would you have to put out for him or her?"
"No! I tell you Louise will be there to see that everything is as it should be. S.O.B. couldn't afford to get involved in a morals charge. It's our big chance to make some important money at a time when we really need it."
She snaked her arms around John. "I didn't have to tell you about it, except to warn you I might be late getting home whatever night Mr. Hardin chooses to use my services."
"I don't like that word, services. Could that mean what it sounds like?"
"No! I've told you Louise will be there to protect me. Besides, what a low opinion of me you must have to think I would put out for just any Tom, Dick or Harry."
"I'm sorry, honey. I guess my imagination was getting ahead of my reasoning."
"Of course it was. Now relax and get some sleep." She kissed the back of his neck and pressed her hot body full length along his back.
* * *
On Monday morning, Donna's steps were reluctant as she went out to Clay's old car for the ride downtown. She was sad and unsmiling, for this was the day she had to let Leonard Hardin know that she would accept his proposition.
"Slide over here, honey," she heard Clay say soon after they had driven onto the busy freeway.
She slid across the front seat until she was against the redheaded office boy. "That's better, doll," she faintly heard him say, for her thoughts were not on his masculine charm this morning.
When his right hand descended onto her leg, slid up beneath the hem of her miniskirt and his fingers foraged under the elastic around the leg holes of her panties, Donna sighed. Her body slumped in an automatic reflex to aid his searching fingers. She reached over his nearest leg and grasped the bump in his clothing.
He grunted and stiffened. "When?" he breathed in a husky, passion-tightened voice. "I love you, Donna."
"Soon, Clay, soon again. I like you also, you know."
"You do?"
She grunted from the accurate thrust of paired fingers. "You know I do. You're the only man I've let make love to me since I married John," she lied.
"What about Hardin?"
"Well, what about him?"
"He's laid you. I know he has."
"Can you prove it?"
"Uh, no, but I'm no dummy. I'm hip to the score."
"So don't be so impatient. We can't do it on the way to work."
"Tonight?" He sounded too enthusiastic.
"Maybe. We'll see. Now pay attention to your driving."
As soon as possible after the office was officially opened at eight o'clock, she requested an interview with Leonard Hardin.
"I-I have your answer, Mr. Hardin," she said through a frozen smile.
"Leonard, please. What answer?"
"The one you said you needed before noon today. Don't you remember?"
"Oh, that. Sure, I remember. So what's your answer?"
"I'll-I'll go along with your deal. But I told my husband I would have a chaperone. I don't want to lie to him altogether. Could one be arranged?"
"To ease your conscience? Is that the reason?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Whom had you thought of? Louise?"
"Yes. Yes, she'll do fine. Please, Leonard, huh?"
"Of course. She's been a chaperone before. Louise is an experienced office manager, and that includes such extras as the assignment I'm about to give you."
Her fingers picked nervously at the hem of her ultra short skirt. She looked shyly at Leonard from the chair beside his desk. "Will-will the man be attractive?"
"For a couple of hundred bucks, couldn't any man be attractive, honey?"
She nodded her head, knowing she could keep her eyes closed as the man screwed her. Sure she could hold back some of her passion so the stranger could not make her surrender completely to him.
"Could you arrange for an all night stand Wednesday night, Donna?"
"Yes." She could not hear herself. She cleared her throat, looked straight at Leonard's beard and clearly said, "Yes, that will be fine. What time do you want me to meet him and where?"
She was committed. Her body now belonged to S.O.B. to do with as they saw fit. All day she felt hollow inside. When Clay drove her home and insisted she let him come in for a while, she saw his intended love making as an opportunity to forget she would be company cattle for a night.
Donna was as enthusiastic as Clay, and by the time they were nude on her big couch in the game room, she was panting to be thoroughly screwed. It wasn't long before the couch was rocking. She jack-knifed her legs high so Clay could enter her fully. She humped up to him in perfect tempo to his thrusts, and one time after the other, three quick times, her clarion call of coming rang through the room whose air was perfumed by the perfume of her lust.
Until she sighed, long and quivering, Clay puffed and panted above her. "Please go home now, darling," she breathed nearly an hour after they had lain down to make love.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Donna sat close beside Clay, letting him stroke her leg as they drove to the office Wednesday morning. "Why so quiet?" he asked.
"I have a lot to think of, what with John smashing our car and one thing and another." This morning her thoughts were centered on her blind date tonight.
Since she hadn't done anything of the sort that she knew would be expected of her-not for cash-she was uncertain if she could carry out the duties Leonard Hardin expected of her. Just think of it as a swap party without the other couple, a ghostly voice told her. It's a chance to enjoy a strange man, as you liked balling with Louise's husband. She'll be with you this time, too, the voice continued.
Yes, that's exactly what it would be-as if she were screwing again with Arthur, except that probably wouldn't be her date's name. Louise would be handy for moral support. It would be fun.
She laughed, and Clay looked at her with raised eyebrows. "What's so funny?"
"I thought of something I'm going to do."
"Wait until this evening and we'll make the scene together, like we did Monday night."
"Oh, Clay, I'd like that. But we can't tonight because Louise is taking me home. We have some girlie business planned for this evening."
She was pleased to notice Clay's disappointment. "Oh," he said, "well, then, we can make it tomorrow evening, huh?"
"Maybe. We'll see." She grinned and winked at him, and Clay was pacified. She must ask Louise to take her home to prove that she had not lied to her teenaged boyfriend.
As soon as Harold Shafton arrived at the office, just before nine o'clock, he asked Hardin to come into his office.
"I'm told you've chosen that new girl, Mrs. Redmond, to sell our ad program to Otto Klein."
"I have."
"She's never performed this service for us before. Don't you think a more experienced woman would have been a better choice?"
"Otto likes new stuff."
"Yes, but what if she freaks out or blows the whole deal? We need that supermarket business, and Klein is a fussy character."
"That's exactly why I chose Donna. She's beautiful, fresh looking stuff, and she's not the usual blonde call-girl type. Klein definitely doesn't prefer blondes."
"You're probably right. But what about the mattress bouncing part? Will she chicken out?"
"I'm sending Louise with her as a coach or chaperone, depending on your viewpoint."
"Yes. Louise is a good choice. I hope Donna can make Klein happy."
Shafton crossed his arms on his desk. He was thinking of the time he had eavesdropped in the basement when Hardin had screwed Donna. He licked his lips and grinned. "Yes," he said, "I think I'd like some of that."
It wasn't until she and Louise were alone in the ladies' lounge that Donna remembered to ask Louise for a ride home. "Will you do me that favor, please?" she concluded.
"Will I? I've been hoping you'd ask me again. You bet I'll take you home."
Donna thought Louise sounded too enthusiastic. "What about this business tonight? Do you know the guy I'm supposed to date?"
"Not yet, honey, but Shafton wants to talk it over with me sometime today. By quitting time I should have the whole picture. I'll spread it out for you on the way home."
During her conference with Harold Shafton, Louise said, "Otto Klein can be a rough playmate. Are you sure Donna's our girl?"
"Leonard swears she is. So it'll be up to you to coach her and push her into doing whatever he suggests, Louise. We're depending on you. There'll be a little something for you in this deal, so quit frowning."
Louise smiled, winked and left his office.
"Mr. Hardin talked to me this afternoon," Donna said as Louise was driving her home that evening. "He tells me you know this Otto Klein."
"I know him." Louise recalled Otto's brutish haste and his heavy, almost sadistic lunges into her. She restrained a shudder.
"What sort of man is he, Louise?"
"He's built like a sawed-off wrestler, sounds like a bass drum and he doesn't have much sense of humor." Donna saw Louise grimace. A flash of fear ran down her spine. "He's bald as a stone," Louise continued, "has weak blue eyes, a wide face and a strong chin. Anything else you'd like to know about him?"
"Well-"
Louise laughed. "Oh, yes, he's sort of a rough rider, you might say. That's why I'm to stay with you all the time-as a sort of protector, I guess. But what bugs me is that Shafton asked me to stay with you."
"Why, that's-I'm not sure I can carry on for an audience."
"Audience?"
"You."
"Oh. Oh, that. Better for it to be me with you than a stranger, isn't it?"
"Certainly."
"So don't let my being there bug you. Maybe Otto will want to screw both of us. If I don't object, why should you?"
"You have something there." She sighed, hoping she wouldn't panic at the last minute.
"Come in for a drink or two, Louise. Surely you have time." They had driven into the Redmond driveway, and Donna suddenly felt oppressed at the thought of going into the big, empty house.
"Don't mind if I do." Louise almost sprang from her car because she was thirsty for a drink.
When they were seated on adjacent bar stools, backs to the bar and elbows on it, Donna said just above a whisper, "I'm scared."
"About tonight?"
"Yes." One foot slid off the foot rail of the stool; her other foot remained with the shoe heel that was hooked over the rail.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, darling. I'll be with you all the time. Together we can prevent Otto from getting too carried away."
"It's not him I'm afraid of! It's that I'm afraid of blowing the deal."
"Oh, that! Don't let it throw you. Just be yourself and fly as high as you want to.''
"Maybe I'm not Klein's type."
Louise grinned as she looked closely at Donna. She noticed the long expanse of leg jutting down below the miniskirt to the foot that rested on the floor. She turned to Donna and slipped an arm around her waist.
"I think you'd be almost every man's type, honey." She leaned to kiss Donna, and her lips covered the proffered pair of soft, moist lips.
Donna's arm went around Louise's neck. She gasped into her mouth when she felt a soft hand sliding up her leg. She drew her lips from Louise's.
"Oh, don't, Lou. That'll turn me on like crazy. I have to save my wonderful stuff for Mr. Klein, you know."
"Yeah, I know, and how I envy the bastard."
Donna laughed as she laid a hand on the one working its way behind the leg band of her panties.
"Stop, Lou! Maybe we'll have a little time to ourselves, when we're in the John."
"I dig you, doll. Then, too, Otto's freaky enough to want us to ball together. Don't forget, I know him pretty well."
"You-you mean he'd like to see you and me-to watch a couple of women making out with each other?"
"I'm told it's common. So don't chicken out if he suggests odd things for us to do." She removed her hand from Donna's leg, and soon she started to leave.
"Don't put any perfume on your pussy after you bathe, Donna. If I remember correctly, Otto likes the scent of a woman."
"Oh? Do you think he will go down on me?"
Louise nodded as she backed out of the front door to go to her car. "Who knows? He might. But then so will I if I get the chance, darling."
Donna giggled and felt a twinge of expectation quiver her pussy.
* * *
Later that evening, they spoke but a few words to each other as Louise drove to the Beddy-Bye Motel. She had received her instructions directly from Shafton, and she could not decide whether to reveal them to Donna or not. Just before she turned into the motel parking area, she decided to let Donna be surprised.
"This seems rather sordid." Donna glanced at the car clock. "Sordid? How's that?"
"To think of this as a blind date. He's not taking me to dinner, to a show or anywhere, except probably to bed. I know because it's almost nine o'clock, and that seems too early to go to bed with a man."
"Let's look at it as a long night full of fun."
"Fun?"
"Sure. You like to be fucked, and isn't that fun?"
Donna laughed nervously. "Is it time to knock on the door and say, 'Mr. Hardin sent us'?"
"Let's go. It's unit thirty-eight." Louise punched the button that turned off the car's headlights, and they got out of the car.
Standing beside Louise in front of the door to unit thirty-eight, Donna was caught in the broad sweep of a taxi's headlights as it turned to park in front of a unit on the other side of the paved parking area. My God, she thought, what if the driver is John! She turned and faced the door on which Louise had knocked. She was trembling and wishing the man would hurry and open the door so she could get out of the taxi drivers sight, even if he wasn't John.
"Welcome, girls," a heavy, hearty voice said. And when they had entered and the door was shut behind them, Otto Klein said, "I'm tickled half to death to see you again, Louise, because I almost flipped for you the last time we shacked."
Donna stood perfectly still, facing the room, feeling Klein's eyes roaming up and down her back.
"Who's the doll you've brought along?"
He really was a chunky man, Donna thought as she forced a nervous smile.
"You look frightened, honey, and you're much too sexy for that. It doesn't look good on you."
"Where the hell are the drinks, Otto? I think they'll relax her."
"Oh, shit, I forgot them!"
"Damn!" Louise growled. "I forgot you're a teetotaler."
"Besides, I didn't think-" He glanced at Donna's left hand. "What's your name, honey?"
"Call me Donna."
"Donna, huh? It turns me on to find a shy woman these days."
Shy, hell, Donna thought. I'm just plain scared.
"There's a cozy looking bar down the road. We'll go down there. I can drink a few more Cokes, I guess, while you girls are getting a glow on." He went to the closet and lifted a sport jacket off its hanger.
"Let's go, if you're ready, darlings."
Donna hoped that taxi across the parking area had gone.
Louise went out first, and as Donna started to follow, Otto looped his arm around Donna's waist, bent her to him and kissed her.
The door was open. Donna glanced quickly to where the taxi had been, and she was relieved to see it had gone. Because of her relief she kissed Otto more fervently than she had intended. Even though her hands pressed his chest to signify a reluctance, he liked the way her tongue plunged so readily into his mouth.
"I like you already, Donna, dear." He held her for a few seconds, grinning down into her unsmiling face. He patted her ass as he let her get in the car.
* * *
The lounge was cozy but noisy because of a rock band and a screamer who thought he was singing. The lights were awfully dim, Donna thought, but the dimness and the name of the place, The Rubaiyat, did promote a romantic mood. At least after the second round of drinks Donna began to relax and to feel the stirrings of sexual needs.
Seated between Louise and Otto on one side of a banquette, she was warmed by the body heat of them and, soon, by their wandering hands. Beyond the narrow table sat a couple of strangers, absorbed in the thrust of bold foreplay. Bathed in the excited giggles of the girl and the soft, heavy tones of the man, Donna felt as if she were being pressured into a screwing mood.
When Otto took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb repeatedly across the palm of her hand, she gave him a quick, startled glance. When she saw the flash of his teeth as he grinned, she looked quickly away to the kissing couple beyond the table.
He's using that primitive, childish gesture the boys used when I was in high school. It was hard to believe a grown man would be so crude. She looked at Louise. She was surprised to see what could only be called a lustful leer on her face too. Donna felt as if she had been tagged for the star performer role in a sexual circus. For a moment she almost panicked. But Louise, sensing her confusion, laid a hand on her knee. Then there came to Donna a feeling, a premonition, that she would learn something of value this night, if she could stay her urge to run from it all.
She heard Otto order the third round of drinks, and she turned a worried face to Louise. "I believe I've had enough for tonight," she murmured.
"Chicken." Louise laughed. "Relax. You're with friends, darling." She patted Donna's leg and moved her hand two inches higher.
"I don't usually drink so fast." But she knew they didn't care how fast she drank.
Otto laid her hand on his lap, and his other hand guided it to where his cock bulged inside his pants. In a reflex action, born of habit, her fingers studied his size. And then his free hand captured her knee. The knuckles of her two companions met at the parting of her legs, and the hands drew her legs farther apart.
"Oh-h-h," gasped Donna, trying with one hand to stay the upward progress of the two hands on her thighs. But the hands were insistent, and she gasped again when Louise's soft fingers passed beyond the tops of her gartered stockings.
"Please, Lou," she whispered, "what are you trying to do?"
Louise leaned to whisper in her ear. "I'm trying to help get you in the mood, honey."
The girl across the table began a giggle that ended in a moan, and the table moved from some violent movement beneath it.
The male hand on Donna's other leg swept up to where the bareness of her thigh was tightly enclosed by the leg hole of her panties.
Otto leaned forward and looked at Louise with a grin. "Ha!" he said. "I won. I got there first."
"You're not all the way yet." Louise's swift fingers, more familiar with the construction of panties, squirmed under the cloth and pressed hard on Donna's exposed pussy.
"Oh, please, you two! What d'you think I am?"
To say she was unmoved by the fiddlings and the prodding's of two handfuls of fingers would have been to lie to herself, and she did like the feeling of being desired by two people. Her own fingers searched deeper in Otto's lap, and she could hardly believe the size of what she felt. Surely she must have a big role of thigh flesh in her hand. But she knew it could not throb the way the swelling in her hand was doing.
The waiter brought their third round of drinks-Manhattans for the ladies and a Coke for Otto. Donna seized hers as if she were dying of thirst. In three noisy gulps she drained the glass. Maybe in a few minutes she would get completely with the action.
A twist of Louise's hand opened Donna's legs widely.
"Oh, Lou, easy!" A wave of giddiness struck her-the drinks, the finger fucking? She whispered again to Lou, "Quit that or I'll cum."
Louise giggled and withdrew her hand and slyly poked a finger into her mouth. "Um, good!"
Thicker fingers replaced Louise's slender ones in Donna's pussy.
"Mr. Klein! What do you think you're doin'?"
"That's a damn fool question, honey. I'm trying to turn you on, and now you're ready."
Might as well get on with the show, Donna thought. She giggled through her wavering, pink, alcoholic haze. "Let's go back to the motel, huh?" She was drunker than she had thought. It had hit her tonight sooner than usual.
He withdrew his fingers, lifted them to his nose, sniffed and tasted. Louise watched him. "Well, Otto? What's the answer?"
"Grade A. We'd better get her out of here before she passes out."
Once more in the motel unit, Donna walked unsteadily into the bathroom.
Otto said to Louise, "Did Hardin tell you what I have in mind for you and Donna tonight?"
"He certainly did, and thanks for asking."
"Thanks? Hell, it's only that I like variety some times."
"Who doesn't, Otto? I-" She was interrupted by Donna's return. She met Donna and put her arms around her waist.
When Donna saw, through her haze, Louise's grinning face lower toward hers, she looked at her friend and read the desire for her in Louise's hungry look.
"No, Lou. I don't-" She was silenced by a mouthful of waggling, womanly tongue.
Louise knew Donna would not resist for long, so she began to undress the brunette at once.
When she felt fingers deftly undoing her bra, Donna opened her eyes. Seeing Otto undressing also, her eyes opened wider. She tore her mouth from Louise's.
"He's undressing already?"
"Sure, and so are we, honey. You take my clothes off as I take yours from you."
"He'll see us, Lou."
"I hope so. It'll turn him on so high he won't last long when the show starts. That's what you'd like, isn't it?"
"Uh-huh." Donna's fingers were busy with the clasps and zippers of Louise's clothing.
When all three were nude, the women were locked in each other's arms, hands roaming, voices groaning and little shrill. Otto stood grinning, fingering his hardon and licking his lips.
"Please, Lou, does he have to watch us?" Donna had to ask as her hips swung back and forth, impaling her vagina on three of Louise's rigid fingers.
"Doesn't it really turn you on, knowing we're driving Otto out of his skull?"
Donna could not answer because Louise's mouth trapped her swollen lips, her tongue spearing rapidly in and out of her mouth like an oral fucking. She groaned and swung her heavy-lidded eyes to Klein.
She murmured into Louise's mouth, a sound of consternation, for she had never seen a peter as thick as Otto's. Why, it was even thicker than the stump of Shafton's right wrist. Did he really think she could take that fleshy tree limb into her cunt? He would surely split her. Harold's wrist would surely slip more easily into her pussy than this monstrosity. My God! Look at the size of those balls! He would fill her to overflowing, if he ever got it all the way in.
As much as she wanted Louise to make love to her, a terror cooled Donna's desire. She tore her mouth from the kiss.
"I-I can't do it, Lou. I just can't!"
"Don't blow the scene, darling."
"But have you seen how thick his cock is?"
"Yes, and I've felt it, too. Believe me, it's a once in a lifetime turn on. Now come on and get with it. You're no innocent school kid." She clasped Donna's hips, bent and fastened her mouth around a turgid nipple.
Donna's feet danced on the thick carpet from the fiery sensations that shot from her sucked nipple.
Down from her breasts went Louise's laving mouth, the tongue tickling its wavering path toward the wetting pussy.
"No, no," Donna kept gasping as her hips swayed back and forth as if in the midst of screwing. Her knees trembled and weakened. For an instant she remembered the last time John had gone down on her, many months ago. Although Louise was thrilling her almost out of her skull with her expertise, a twinge of old-fashioned guilt caused Donna to groan and repeat her denials that were really entreaties to continue.
She gasped loudly, and every inch of her quaked when Louise's tongue met the sensitive tip of her clitoris. From the corner of her eye she saw Otto's prick throbbing, and as if from a mile away she heard him laugh. Then Louise lowered her quaking body to the thick, fluffy carpet.
The last thing Donna saw, just as her eyes flickered and closed, was Otto's thick cock waggling in the air above and to one side of Louise's crouching body. As she raised her legs and opened them to admit Louise's head and shoulders, she anticipated the plunging of Otto's cock into her. "Ahhh," she hissed, feeling the active tongue teasing her.
"Christ, hurry up, Lou." Otto's voice was scratchy with desire. He looked at her upthrust rump, measuring it for size. He decided to wait for Donna to be made fully ready.
It took but a few minutes for Louise to turn Donna into a moaning, head-rolling, thigh-clasping woman in frantic need of a climax.
Otto hauled Louise away from within the clasp of Donna's quivering thighs. "Don't make her cum, for Chrissake. That's my scene." He flung himself onto his knees, replacing Louise.
At the sudden separation of Louise's lips from her pussy, Donna's eyes flew open. She saw, coming closer and closer, the grinning face of the man whose penis she had been enjoying in her imagination, and now it was real! A feeling of something blunt probing, a feeling of being stretched down there drove a groan of fearful impatience from her half-opened mouth.
He slid his hands beneath her armpits, gripped her shoulders and held her steady. With a flick of his heavy hips, he impaled her.
"Ughhhh!" she grunted at his entrance and when he was well seated and her clit was crushed and rolled by his moving pelvis, she gasped, "Ahhhhh, yes!"
He moved easily, steadily into and out of her well-greased tunnel. Her arms went around his shoulders, and her fingers curled and began to claw his back as she felt her lust rising. She sucked avidly at his spearing tongue as if it were another cock that moved in concert with his real one. She was unaware of the whimpering sounds that were stirred from her writhing body.
Louise, sitting back on her haunches, couldn't keep from fingering herself as she watched and listened to the mating couple enjoying one another. Harold Shafton would surely be pleased to see how adroitly she had arranged Donna's seduction. In her mind floated the dollar mark signs of her expected bonus.
After the initial, thrilling shock Donna noticed an annoying lack of depth to his thrustings. He was certainly wide enough to fill and please any woman, but Otto was a good two inches shorter than her beloved John. She thrust up hard to Otto, their bodies smacking audibly together, but there was still that two inches of unused vagina. She found her attention centering more on those two missing inches than on the thorough screwing Otto was trying to give her. Of course, she was getting paid two hundred bucks for this-whatever it could be called. Two hundred dollars for two lacking inches! One hundred frog skins per inch. Two inches less than John. Why, of course! Wasn't she submitting to this pleasant episode to help the family finances? The two hundred dollars was in payment for John's extra length. He was earning the money by the proxy of her body. Her pussy was the cash register for the money, in payment for Otto's lack of length. Donna giggled and clawed Otto's hips, hoping to crowd more of him into her.
He thought her giggle signified her approaching climax. "Are you-cuming?" he panted, increasing the speed of his thrusts until he groaned and douched her liberally with his sticky semen.
* * *
Until well after midnight Donna entertained both Otto and Louise; the few times she came it was Louise whose tongue caressed and poked her over the peak of passion's golden hilltop.
By one o'clock in the morning Otto was exhausted, and soon he fell asleep with his broad face nestled in Louise's thick, pubic fur. Donna, restless from being repeatedly excited, but with few fulfillments, lay awake on the crowded bed.
"Louise?" she whispered. Her answer was a soft snore from Louise and a gargling, hog-wallowing snore from Klein. "Shit," Donna mumbled, "I'm getting the hell out of here." She turned to the phone on the night table and called for a cab.
Since it was after midnight, she felt secure, knowing it would not be John whose taxi would come for her.
As she dressed and waited for the cab, Donna considered the things she had done, the things she might have learned. There was definitely more to screwing than the mechanics of the act. Even had Klein been big enough, Donna was sure something would still have been missing.
Oh, how, she hoped John would fuck her this morning! She would nurse him along, coax and rape him if necessary. She stepped outside the motel unit to await the cab. Soon she saw the car approaching with the lighted "taxi" sign on its roof. Humming and smiling, she scooted to it when it came to a stop.
In the taxi, Donna became aware of the oozing residue from her night of fucking. She hoped the cab driver couldn't smell the stink of sex. Then she worried about the problem of sneaking into her own house and cleaning herself before John could smell and feel the evidence of her night's work. She hoped he was sound asleep. As a precaution, she had the taxi driver stop at the street corner nearest her home.
"Good humping, honey," the driver snickered when she paid him.
Shocked, she stood for a moment and wondered if John was as bold and crude as this taxi jockey. Surely not, for he was too proud for such remarks. Pride was his biggest hang-up. "Let's see if I can beat that pride tonight." With a giggle of anticipation, she walked rapidly to the door that opened from the carport into her kitchen.
After she had attended to herself in one of the guest bedroom's baths, she drew a yellow shortie nightgown over her powered and perfumed body and padded silently into the master bedroom. She looked and smelled like a virgin choir girl. But John was not in bed.
He was sprawled, nude, on the big couch in the game room watching a late movie on the TV. Whenever a suggestive scene appeared showing enticing views of the hot-looking female actress he groaned and gave his upstanding cock three or four quick strokes. He was absorbed in his fantasy with the television and didn't notice Donna watching him. He didn't see Donna look lovingly at his ponderous prick and he didn't hear her quietly move across the room to where he lay. Something wet and warm came onto his cock and there was a familiar, wonderful feeling of suction around the head of it. He looked quickly from the TV and saw a head of womanly hair bobbing up and down above his thighs.
"Donna! Darling!" he gasped, and soon, "Suck! Suck hard, baby!" He arched high and felt his juice pouring into his wife's mouth. She slid up beside him, licking the cum from her lips and smiled. "You've just passed the test," she murmured.
"You came, too?"
"Almost. When you've rested I want you to screw the living hell out of me, honey."
"Didn't you-didn't your date screw you enough?"
She saw the incredulity and hope in his eyes, and Donna made a hasty decision. "He didn't screw me."
John looked shocked. "He didn't ... you're lying to me, Donna."
"No, honestly, I'm not. He ate me instead."
"And you ate him."
"No, I jacked him off before he could stick it in my mouth."
John became peacefully relaxed by her reassurance. In her hand, his limp prick was soon brought to full erection, and Donna climbed over her willing mate. They fucked for nearly an hour, and Donna came three times. When they finally limped off to bed, her cunt was raw and burning, and his balls were throbbing with the exertion of the night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Donna reported for work the next day as usual and acted as though nothing had changed in her relationship with the company. As far as anyone around her was concerned, Donna was just another copy girl. But inside, Donna felt different. She was no longer like any of the other office girls. Donna had had the experience. She had sold her womanhood for money and had enjoyed it, she had a sexual understanding with the boss, and she had a warm feeling in her pussy from all the fucking of the past night. Donna wondered that no one noticed the difference in her. It was odd that she had changed her entire life and yet nothing seemed changed around her. She sat at her desk as always and corrected copy, listened to the gossip from the girls around her, drank coffee and smoked cigarettes. She wanted to tell the other girls of her experience but she didn't dare. It was an odd morning. Everything seemed to be in a new perspective for her.
In the afternoon, Mr. Hardin called her into his office. When she got the message, she immediately became tense and nervous. What if that old fart Klein complained about me! she thought. She suddenly became very afraid for her job. After all, she was in a vulnerable position, having fucked Mr. Hardin and then fucked one of the clients. They could say she was a slut, a disgrace to the company, and kick her out without so much as a week's notice. That would really put her and John off the deep end!
Donna tried to gather her wits about her. What could she fight back with if the worst did happen? All she had was her sex, her cunt. How silly, to try and battle the thrusts of a steel-hard cock with her pussy, which only wanted to surrender. How silly her thoughts were, altogether! There was nothing to be afraid of. Hardin was probably going to compliment her on her fine job last night. The gorilla probably never had it so good, that old Klein.
With her newfound enthusiasm, Donna walked into Mr. Hardin's office. He was seated behind his huge desk as usual, looking smug and powerful. He was gazing at the ceiling when she came in, and Donna was about to say something, but his intense gaze gave her a feeling that said she should wait. He seemed to be thinking about something very important, something vast.
Finally, he lowered his gaze towards the door where Donna stood silently and patiently. She gave him a faint smile that showed neither eagerness nor boredom. It was a businesslike smile that announced her presence and that she had been waiting.
"Come in, Donna. Come in and have a seat," he said.
The tone of his voice seemed troubled. Donna walked to the seat and looked at him before she sat.
"Is anything wrong, Mr. Hardin?" Donna asked.
"No, no, of course not. Did things go all right last night?"
"You haven't heard anything?" Donna asked.
"No, Klein hasn't talked to anyone around here today. That usually means it was good. If the girl bombs out, we usually know before lunch the next day. So I guess it went ok."
"That's good," Donna said.
"Yeah, that's good," Hardin repeated. "How did you like it?" he asked with sudden animation.
"Well, it was certainly different."
"Yeah, I'll bet. Did you like it, though?"
Donna felt a little embarrassed but quickly mastered the emotion. "Yes, I suppose I did like it."
"You like cock, don't you? I could tell the first time I saw you that you were more than a tease. You're a real find, Donna. A beauty who likes cock," Hardin repeated.
"You're right, Mr. Hardin. I do like cock. I didn't think it would be like it is. I always thought it would be dirty to just do it. I liked it the first time we did it down in the basement. It was good to feel you inside of me when I was so unsure. It was exciting. You have a wonderful prick," Donna said solemnly.
Hardin was unfazed. "Yeah, a girl like you, pretty and intelligent with a taste for cock besides, that's a real find. Cunt and business go hand in hand, did you know that, Donna?"
"No, I didn't," Donna said with sudden interest.
"It's true, especially of the business we're in at S.O.B. We list our assets so everyone can see, but we don't list one of the most important-our client girls. More accounts are won and lost on the force of a motel shot than on any other single factor in the business."
"That's pretty fantastic," Donna said.
"Yeah, it is, isn't it? Oh, the company comes first, of course. We could never get a client if we didn't have the company, that goes without saying. But we're not alone in our field. The competition's pretty stiff, especially these days."
Donna nodded to show her agreement.
"To be frank, there's very little that we offer a client that he can't get anywhere else. There's just so much you can do on the business end of it. After that, it's the fringe benefits that make or break the account. Now, what are the two most powerful drives a man has? Well, the first, of course, is food. Hence the expense account. We take our clients to the best restaurants always, the best bars, the best clubs. If there's any way we can cater to their gastronomic whims, we do it. Do you know what the second thing is?" Hardin asked.
"Every man cherishes a good lay," Donna said.
"Exactly," Hardin returned. "And when it comes down to the final decision, the client will make his choice based upon where he can get the best piece of ass for his money, everything else being equal."
"Everything else being equal," Donna repeated.
"Don't underestimate the power of sex," Hardin said. "Many are the accounts that have been won solely on the power of sex."
"I never realized," Donna said.
"It's a funny world," Hardin said. "But it's a man's world still, and there's little that a man won't do for the cunt of his dreams."
Hardin paused, and Donna sat in silence, a little uneasily. She hadn't expected anything like this at all. She watched Hardin thump a pencil on his desk and then hold it between his hands as if he would snap it in two.
"I've been thinking about you, Donna. The more I've been thinking, the more it seems to me that you have the capabilities for being one of those dream fucks that every man lusts after."
There was another long silence as Donna's scalp bristled with the gist of Hardin's words. He was telling her that she was a helluva good slut. Yet, the revulsion was much less that the sudden flush of excitement that came over her. She was a woman who could move men by careful use of her cunt, by doing what she enjoyed most in life, fucking.
"Have you ever thought of working in that capacity?" Hardin asked.
"No, never," Donna answered.
"What do you think about it?"
"It's, well, it's hard to say."
"Your husband?" Hardin asked.
Donna hadn't thought of that at all, but it now flowed over her like a lead balloon. "Yes," she whispered. "My husband."
"I understand," Hardin.
Donna found herself gaining in trust and respect for Hardin. He was a real man, a hard realist. And he was treating her with respect and understanding.
"I want to," she suddenly said, surprising herself as much as Hardin.
"The thing is, I need you right now. I've thought it over this afternoon, and I really need you now."
"What is it?" She asked.
"A big account. One of the biggest. We're close to closing now. Just between us and one other firm, and it's down to the fringe benefits. The right girl could pull us through, I'm sure. But what an assignment!"
"Who is it?" Donna asked.
"None other than the Shah of Iran's uncle, the Minister of Finance, Hassad."
Donna shivered. Hassad was frequently on television, shaking hands with presidents and ministers and business moguls. He was a brute with a beak for a nose and skinny hands like claws.
"Donna, you're new. I think that works in your favor. I'm taking an awful chance with you, but it's by taking risks that fortunes are made. I have confidence in you. Can you do it?"
The silence was painful. It was true that Donna had never been called upon in her life to perform any act of significance. Certainly nothing like this. It was colossal to think what the effects of her cunt might be. Thousands of dollars, perhaps millions. It was staggering.
And then there was Hassad himself. Repulsive, at best. What a fate, to be worked over by that hideous Arab! And yet ...
"I can do it," Donna said coldly.
"This is very important, Donna. Extremely important. Bomb out and you cost us a fortune. You have to be sure. Hassad is ugly. Can you stand his big, ugly face while he sticks his crooked prick inside you?"
"Mr. Hardin, please!" Donna exclaimed.
"I have to be sure!" Hardin said.
"Yes," Donna said softly. "I can do it. It'll be sort of kinky. It'll be fun."
"This evening."
"OK," Donna said. "Can I have the day off to get ready?"
"Certainly. I'll set it up. There'll be a car for you at 8:00."
They sat for a few moments, and then Hardin asked, "Is there anything you need?"
"No," Donna said. "Not yet, not now."
"Then it's all set. Tonight at 8:00."
"Yes."
"Good luck," Hardin said as he rose. He came over to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek and let his hand slip down around her plump rump. Giving her ass a playful pinch, he mused, "If the old Arab doesn't flip for this ass, he's crazier than I thought."
Donna giggled and said goodbye as she left Hardin's office. She took a cab home, which she had never done, but she felt she deserved it now. It was a pleasant drive through the city, where everyone was scurrying for their pay while Donna relaxed in the cab and watched, knowing that she didn't have to hurry this day. All she had to do was fuck when the time came. It was an odd feeling of freedom, like being released from the rat race into a new sphere of existence. Donna felt that, regardless of what others said, this new life was a higher form of existence than that of the honest working girl. Tonight, Donna would be diddled by the Iranian Minister of Finance!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Donna lay in the tub with the scented water kissing her chin. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tilted back so her hair flowed out in the water like lush sea foliage. Donna smoothed the hair of her cunt with her fingertips and imagined, with her eyes closed, that she was floating on the Iranian royal carpet with Hassad gently stroking her cunt. All the royal family was on hand to watch as she performed for them. They were among the richest families in the world, but in sensuality Donna had more treasures than they could imagine.
"Oh, my little pussy," Donna whispered. "My royal little pussy. I hope you get nice and sweet for the pricking you'll get tonight."
Donna stroked her soft, wet bush as she fantasized about Hassad and she was feeling high and happy when the image of her husband pushed into the picture. He was sad and moping, and it made her feel unsure about the whole situation.
"Oh, John. Poor John. Don't you know that I like your prick best of all? Nobody can satisfy me like you can, no cock fills me up like yours."
She knew John would be furious with her for going out again the very next night. She didn't blame him for it. But they needed the money-he should understand that. It was just for a little while. He shouldn't be so righteous about things. He didn't own her, anyway. Even so, she felt sorry for John and wished she wasn't going. She wrote him a note and told him not to stay up waiting for her, although she knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep until she was back home. He'd be furious, probably.
Donna considered for a few minutes how John would feel about it and concluded that he had no real reason to get so angry. Well, fuck him, Donna thought. It's my life, not his.
Donna met the Iranian Minister of Finance early in the evening at his suite of rooms in the Waldorf Hotel in central Los Angeles. The L.A. Waldorf was distinctly different from its New York counterpart. It was only ten stories tall, but it covered a full city block, had white stucco minarets and gargoyles plastered onto the facade, had an adjoining parking lot that covered another city block. The Waldorf was a square structure that enclosed an enormous inner courtyard with a putting green and Olympic swimming pool serving as diversions along with several shuffle board courts and two tennis courts. Donna could see the inner courtyard from the balcony of the royal suite which occupied one entire side of the tenth floor. She was standing out on the balcony watching the reflection of the ten-foot-high neon "W" as it rippled in the chlorinated waters of the swimming pool.
The small veiled woman who had met Donna at her house with the limousine was standing in the doorway of the porch and observing Donna from behind. She noted Donna's nicely rounded rump and those tits that were made for sucking. The woman saw the flesh and she saw that it was good.
"Hassad will take great pleasure in you," the woman said.
Donna turned to face the woman and noticed the way the dim blue neon light went through the woman's filmy clothing like a mist and lit her body in an odd glow. The woman wore the traditional Arabic garment made of silk that hung loosely from her body, but she lacked the crucial undergarments of sparkling needlework that usually hid a woman's endowments. Donna saw how the woman's large tits glowed with the dim blue fluorescence and came to a shiny peak at her pointed nipples. Donna remembered that the woman had not picked her up dressed like she was now.
"The minister has already told me he is most pleased with your appearance," the woman went on.
"Oh yeah?" Donna said eagerly. "What'd he say?"
"He said, if you will pardon the expression, that you had breasts like fine melons."
"No kidding! Like melons! Nobody's ever told me I had them like melons before," Donna mused. "So Hassad's a, if you'll pardon the expression, tit man?"
"Excuse, what means this word 'tits'?"
"Tits means tits, you know, breasts," Donna explained.
"Ah ..." the woman said.
"Say, I don't think I caught your name before. Mine's Donna."
"How do you do, Donna. I am called Samahdi."
"Samahdi? Gee, I'll never remember that. How about if I just call you Sam?"
"Sam? That is the name of an American man, no?"
"Oh, not always. It's also short for Samantha, which is kind of like what you're called."
"Very good. You call me Sam and I will call you Don."
"Yeah, right! I'm Don and you're Sam," Donna laughed. "Say, Sam, what happened to your underclothes since we got here?"
"I have removed them in preparation for the night. I have an outfit ready for you. If you would like to get into it now, I will help you."
Donna went off with Samahdi to the wardrobe where she took out a gauzy outfit of sheer silk and held it up. Sam looked through it at Donna and remarked, "You will look very good in this, Don."
"Yeah, Sam, like I'd look naked. Do you always go around wearing nothing but this kind of stuff?"
"Absolutely," Sam said as she came over to Don to help her off with her dress.
Donna had dressed formally for the evening, not expecting to spend the entire night in a state of semi-nakedness and going under the name of Don. Oh well, she thought, business is business.
She let Sam help her with the zipper of her gown. She felt it was somewhat of a shame to be getting undressed so soon after she had gone to so much trouble to get dressed in the first place. She didn't really mind, though. She liked the idea of running around naked all night with a mist of sheer silk always brushing against her skin.
Don stepped happily out of her gown and handed it to Sam who hung it in the closet. She reached back and popped the latch of her bra and her tits plopped down with a jiggle. Donna took the bra off and rubbed her tits all around to get the circulation going.
"That was a tight bra!" Don exclaimed.
"It is amazing to me how much agony American women set upon their bodies," Sam said.
"I guess it must be pretty nice to run around naked all the time," Don said.
"Exceedingly," Sam replied.
Donna stood in her high heels and pantyhose. She arched her back and yawned long and lazily. She was beginning to feel comfortable in the part of the call girl. She felt no uneasiness about slipping her pantyhose off and then her panties so she stood there naked next to Sam. She had an itch in her pussy for the evening to get underway, an itch that could be satisfied most easily by a big cock.
"Well, where's that see-through skirt?" Donna asked.
"There is one other thing," Sam said. "Hassad enjoys his women with the scent. If you like, I will apply it for you."
"The scent? You mean for the cunt?" Don asked. "Yes, that is it."
"Yeah, I'd like for you to apply it for me. I'll just lie down on this bed here."
With that, Don lay down on the bed that was conveniently located nearby and opened her legs wide for whatever Sam was preparing to administer. Sam brought a sampling of jars and bottles from the closet and set them on the table beside the bed, then looked down into Don's gaping cunt.
Don hummed softly as she waited for her cunt to be anointed. She felt Sam's soft fingers probing her cushiony pussy lips and opening them up and then she felt a finger slide into her cunt with something cool and slippery as a lubricant. Once the finger was inside her cunt it worked around inside, getting the lubricant spread evenly over Don's interior walls. Don was getting hot from it and noticed, besides, that the substance, whatever it was, was reacting with her pussy juices, causing her to bubble inside and warm up. Her cunt began to feel pleasantly warm.
"Oooo-wee! That feels fantastic, Sam. Lick it a little for me. Put your lips on my pussy."
Sam was already kneeling to the task, her lips going over the oval of Don's cunt. Sam's tongue went in like a slick snake and darted back out.
Sam brought her lips up and smacked them together as if she were tasting something. "The mixture is nearly perfect!" she exclaimed.
"Sam, this stuff is making me boil inside. Make me cum! I need to cum! Suck me, quick, suck my cunt!" Don exclaimed.
As Don spoke, she slid her fingers down and began rubbing her pussy and felt that it was wet and drooling. Than Sam's lips were on her again, sucking the juices out of her and probing with her snake-like tongue. The tongue slid up and flicked at Don's clit and it was like an alarm. Don started to cum immediately, and she felt like she was an open fire hydrant, so furiously did the juices spurt from her pussy. She jerked and whipped her hips into Sam's face in a frenzy and Sam had to hold Don firmly by the ass so she didn't jump right off the bed. Don felt as if her pussy was on fire and she had to fuck till the blaze was out. But the more she humped and the more Sam sucked, the more she wanted it. She was screaming out in agony when Sam pushed herself away with a sudden thrust, leaving Don on the bed panting for more.
"My cunt! My cunt's on fire! Fuck it, somebody fuck it and put the fire out!" Don yelled.
"Take this!" Sam commanded, but Don was too frenzied to hear. Sam held a large dildo in her hand and she pounced upon Don and shoved it up her cunt. Don came again, almost on contact with the shaft and she twisted it around inside of her like a corkscrew. Her juices were forming a little puddle on the bed.
"Relax, now," Sam said, "relax. Let the shaft sit inside you and still the rumblings. Relax."
Gradually, Don felt herself regaining control. When she was somewhat stilled, she asked with bated breath, "What the hell happened, Sam?"
"The mixture. I have never seen it work like it does on you. Your pussy seemed to catch fire from it, Don."
"It's still burning."
"Good. You will be able to fuck many times tonight, my Don."
"But what is it?" Don asked.
"It is the royal mixture. Aphrodisiac."
"I can still feel it warm inside of me."
"You have washed almost all of it out with your juices. It makes the juices flow like rain down the mountain. It will make you fuck many times tonight. Don't be alarmed, it will not harm you," Sam said.
Don lay for a while letting her pussy cool off and then she slipped the dildo out. She surmised that she had just passed a test of some sort. Her cunt felt all fucked out, drained, but she knew that a dab of that mixture would set it on fire again. She lifted herself up and decided that she should get the evening started, if that was going to be what it was about, so that she might get it over quickly. She was hungry for another taste of the mixture, too.
"Are you ready, my Don?" Sam asked.
"When you are," Don said. She got up, and Sam dressed her in the silken sashes. The sheer silk caressed her nipples and made her feel the warmth in her pussy again, and she wanted to slip her finger into the balloon-leg pants and finger her cunt a little. She was starved for a big, hard cock. That's when Jarrad, the minister's son, came in. He was young and ugly, a miniature version of the old man. Sam shooed him out and scolded him for entering into the women's quarters. But not before Don noticed the bulge in Jarrad's trousers.
As they were leaving the wardrobe room, Sam handed Don a small pill.
"Take this, Don," she said. "It will give you strength to last the night."
Don swallowed it without thinking, and they went on together towards the main room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Hassad was seated on a velvet cushion on the floor with his son next to him on a similar cushion. He nodded when the two women entered and his eyes brightened at the sight of Don.
"Didn't I tell you, father? A body like ..."
"Hush, my little plague. Stay quiet and listen to what I say and do," Hassad told his son.
When the women were standing before the minister, Hassad addressed Don. "You are exquisite, Miss Donna, superb. I am overwhelmed."
Don smiled and Sam said, "The mixture works exceedingly well."
"Excellent," Hassad said.
"Listen, ah, Mr. Minister," Don began.
"Please to call me Hassad."
"Hassad. I'll never remember that," Don mused. Her head was beginning to feel light from the pill. "Listen, why don't we call each other by nicknames, like we do in America."
"Nicknames?" Hassad asked.
"Yeah, you know, like I'm Don and this is Sam." Samahdi curtsied to the minister.
"I see," the minister said. "Don and Sam. And what would you call me."
"Let's see. Can't call you Has. Hoss is too vulgar. I know, Hank! You be Hank and your son can be Jerry, short for Jarrad."
"Hank and Jerry!" Hassad said indignantly. "Miss Donna, I beg you, please!"
"Oh, gee, be a sport," Don said. "Call me Don, Hank."
Hank swallowed hard and said, "O.K., Don."
"Good, Hank! Now you're Hank, he's Jerry, I'm Don and she's Sam. Just like old friends." Don felt lightheaded and happy. Her body was getting extremely relaxed from the pill, and she felt very passive.
"Be seated, ah, Don," Hank said with difficulty. "Let us drink to your arrival." With that, he poured out a drink from an Arabic gourd into a silver chalice and handed it to Don. She waited as he poured a drink for himself and his son and prepared to make a toast.
"Wait a minute, Hank. You forgot Sam."
Everyone sat silently for a minute, and then Sam said hurriedly, "No, no, I am not thirsty."
"Sure you are, Sam. It's impolite for him not to offer you."
"No, you do not understand, I will not drink," Sam said.
"It is good, Sam," Hank said. "It is against custom for my wife to drink with me, Don, but I will allow it this time."
"Your wife!" Don exclaimed. "You don't even offer your wife a drink when you drink?"
"But then I would have to offer all my wives a drink."
"All your wives? How many do you have?"
Hank set the bottle down and clapped his hands three times and immediately a procession began to move through the room, from left to right. There were women of all shapes and sizes, all draped in the Arabic silks and veiled, and all giggling at the scene as they glided through. Donna stopped counting at 23.
"Gee, Hank," Don said when the procession finished, "all those are yours! Do you keep them all satisfied yourself?"
"Praise Allah, I do," Hank said.
"You must have a heck of a wanger, Hank," Don said giddily.
"Wanger?" Hank asked.
"Yeah, you know, a prick, a prod, a cock, a penis, that poker between your legs!"
"Ah, yes, that," Hank laughed. "But later. Now we drink." He poured out a drink to Sam, who nervously took it, and they all drank. It was a bitter sort of wine that burned Don's throat, but she swallowed it to be polite. She was really feeling light-headed now, and she lay back on her pillow, her puffy bush pointing up to Hank and his son.
"Allah be praised, father! Let me play the camel on this wench!"
Hank's prick had started its ritual rise, but he deferred to his son. "Go, make many humps," Hank said.
Jerry was up in a flash and bounding towards Don, who lay stretched out on the pillow. He had his clothes off in no time, and his young cock stuck out like an oil derrick. He yanked on the silken pants Don wore and she obliged by lifting her ass so he could get them off her.
"What's that you've got on your hands, Jerry?" Don asked as he climbed over her.
Sam grabbed hold of Jerry's hand and exclaimed, "Crude oil! Must I always tell you not to play in the royal oil!"
"Leave him be!" Hank commanded. "He is busy now!"
"Yeah, go ahead, Jerry. Sink your pecker into me like I was an oil well. Fuck me till I'm gushing gold!" Don said.
Jerry rubbed some of the oil from his hands onto his cock and Don spread her legs wide. He nestled himself in her valley and his hard young prick began burrowing into her cunt. Don was floating from the effects of the pill, and the fucking seemed like a daydream. She put her arms around Jerry and pushed him all the way into her cunt until she felt his cock hot and pounding inside her. Jerry was young and rough and he banged his hips into Don until their hipbones were knocking like logs. Hank got down on his hands and knees so he could get a better look at the action. He put his head close to the floor so he could look up at the cunt that his son had filled with his cock.
"I cum! I cum!" Jerry yelled, and he spurted his wad into Don. She felt the hot cum swirl up inside her like a whirlpool and then another hot swirl and another and she began to cum too, her juices flowing freely. It was an odd cum for her, being in a half trance. In a few minutes, Jerry lay exhausted on top of her, and his cock was growing limp. They were both panting for breath, and Don had been pressed deep down into the pillow. Jerry suddenly pulled his cock out with a jerk and Don opened her eyes to see it hanging limply between his legs. He hurriedly covered it with his hands and withdrew to his seat next to his father.
"Now it's Hank's turn," the minister announced. He rose and began removing his clothes. "Clean her for my entry," he told Sam and she quickly drew out a douche bag and went between Don's legs, squirting and wiping. Hank stood over them, naked, with his cock in his fist, waiting. "Hurry that up," he said impatiently.
Don was propped up on a pillow and was looking at the minister's fat prick as he fondled it with his hairy hands. It was purple and coarse and looked particularly appetizing to Don.
"Come here to me," she said. "I'll keep you occupied until she finishes down there."
When Hank hesitated a moment, she continued, "Stick it in my mouth and I'll suck on it until my pussy's ready for you again."
"Allah be praised!" Hank exclaimed and he hurried his hips up to her face. He stood over her, his feet planted at her hips, and his groin came just to her chin. His cock was hard and pointed upwards, so Don took it in her hand and stuffed the throbbing head into her mouth.
"Aiieee!" Hank wailed.
Don started to suck on his cock, and he put his hairy hands behind her head and tried to force his cock into her throat, but their position was wrong and his prod knocked up against the roof of her mouth. She flicked her tongue over his cock and sucked on it, holding both hands on the base to keep it from escaping. Hank's balls swung low in the sack and grazed Sam's head. Sam was hard at work completing her douche of Don's cunt. She could feel Hank's balls on her head, but as much as she wanted to suck those huge rocks, she knew her first duty was to complete her appointed task-the douche. She hurried, and when she was finished she cast the douche bag aside and opened her mouth wide to take in both of Hank's huge nuts. He cried out in glorious anguish as she sucked on his rocks while Don kept sucking.
He started pounding his hips into Don's mouth, crying, "Drink it! Drink the milk of my penis!"
He wasn't ready to cum yet, but Don thought he was and grabbed him around the ass to get it all in her mouth, causing him to lose his footing, and the three of them toppled onto the floor. Don had to hold tight to keep the cock in her mouth, but she succeeded. Sam simply rolled to the floor, sucking on his balls the whole time.
Don maneuvered herself over Hank so she could get her mouth in a better line with the angle of his cock. She crawled onto him, spreading her legs over his face. Hank opened his eyes and saw the glistening cunt covering his field of vision and didn't hesitate. He opened his mouth, grabbed two handfuls of plump ass and pushed the cunt to his mouth. He started sucking on Don's newly cleaned cunt, and she was dripping again in no time.
The sucking drove Don wild, and she shoved Hank's cock deeper and deeper into her mouth until it was pushed down into her throat. Under the pile, Sam kept sucking on his balls with almost religious fervor.
"Allah be praised!" Jerry called from the pillow, "I will hump again like the camel!" He had been sitting aside, watching the action and playing with his prick unconsciously. His cock was now red and ripe again, and it was slick from his oily hands. He bounded over to the writhing mass, searching for a place to enter. But Don's cunt was occupied with Hank's tongue, her mouth with his cock. Jerry didn't want to put it into Sam's cunt-she was his mother, after all. He jumped around the pile anxiously, holding his burning prick in his hands, chanting, "Where? Where? Where can Jerry stick his prick?"
Suddenly there was a loud smacking sound, like a cork popping from a bottle, and Hank raised his head, his lips dripping with moisture, and he instructed, "In her ass, you little fool! Put it in her ass!"
"Yes!" Jerry shouted with glee. "Yes, I will put it in her ass!"
With that, he hopped up to the rear of the mound of flesh while his father went back to his sucking, letting out a few moans for good measure. Jerry put his oily hands on Don's ass cheeks and spread them wide apart. Don felt Jerry's greasy finger descend into her anus and she moaned deep down in her throat at the pain and joy of it. She felt how easily his finger slipped in and then she felt it slip out again. She felt his firm fingers spreading her cheeks wide apart until she thought he would rip her ass in half, and then she felt the bulging head of his cock pushing at the entrance. There was a fierce grunt from Jerry, and then the unbelievable pain of his prick forcing its way up her asshole. Don gave a shudder and clamped down on Hank's prick-not hard enough to hurt, thankfully. Hank responded by sucking harder than ever on Don's clit, and shook with glee. The whole pile swayed as Jerry stuck his cock deeper and deeper into Don's asshole. Finally, he was sunk to the hilt, his hips nestling on her ass cheeks. He started pumping on her, sending shivers through the whole pile, until they were swaying as one.
Hank was the first to cum, spurting into Don's mouth furiously, his jerking fueled by Sam's spirited sucking on his balls. Don swallowed the cum anxiously, sucking with all her might. In a moment, her pussy was exploding, too, and she drove her hungry cunt into Hank's wicked mouth. His tongue was tickling her clit and then he shifted his face and Don felt his crooked nose driving into her pussy, and she had to squeal with delight at this unexpected pleasure. He worked his head with agility, driving his nose in and out of her cunt as she came in buckets. Then Jerry burst, sending his steaming load splashing into her cunt, and she felt fuller than she had ever felt, with her pussy cumming to the thrusts of Hank's nose, and his cum juice running down her throat, and Jerry's sperm shooting up her asshole. She was on the verge of fainting, but he held on and pumped her body to the limit, until her pussy was wrung dry and all the sperm was sunk into her starved orifices.
When the pile of bodies was still, they began to peel apart. First Jerry, slipping his limp prick out of Don's asshole, then Don drawing herself off the pile, and finally Hank-leaving Sam alone on the floor.
"Douche her," Hank called out, and Sam wearily retrieved the douche bag and went back to her task of cleaning Don's cunt.
"I am most pleased with your performance," Hank said breathlessly.
"Thanks," Donna wheezed. "You're quite a stud yourself."
"Yes, a stud, yes," Hank laughed. "Rest, now, Don. Then you will entertain us a little longer."
"Gee, Hank," Donna panted. "You mean you can still go some more?"
"Ah, no, you correctly judge me to be an old man," Hank said. Donna had noticed his flabby skin and his aging face. He was really tired from that last act. "No, I am too tired to help you again. And my son is too young yet to go again. No, you will entertain us another way, with my servant Nicky. You will enjoy Nicky. But rest a few moments."
Donna laid back while Sam continued her gentle douche, squirting and cleaning her cunt. Don took a sip of the bitter wine, and then settled back and managed to doze off almost immediately. While she was asleep, Hank called for the mixture and applied a generous helping of it to Don's cunt himself.
"That is a little much, maybe?" Sam asked as she watched.
"This is more than a little woman," Hank replied.
Donna awoke in a few minutes with a warm feeling in her pussy. When she felt the bubbly feeling inside her vagina, she realized that the mixture was inside her. Her mind was hazy and she couldn't seem to get her thoughts into focus-except one thought. She wanted something big and stiff inside her pussy. She reached down and rubbed her clit and found it rock-hard and the juices spilling out of her again like a fountain.
Hank sat on his pillow with Jerry next to him and smiled as he saw Don coming to life again. Don stared through the slits of her eyes at how Hank watched her, and then she closed her eyes again, feeling her pussy catching fire. She rammed her thumb up her cunt, then two fingers, and she pulled fiercely at her clit while the juices flowed.
"Fuck me!" she cried. "Fuck me, Hank, Fuck me, Jerry!"
"Nicky!" Hank called.
Don heard a pad of feet on the carpet and then the sound of heavy breathing. "Yes, Nicky, yes," she heard Hank say. "She is for you, Nicky. I have brought her for you."
Don opened her eyes in time to see the Great Dane stick his nose down between her legs and sniff at her pussy, and then he threw his head back and howled. Instead of being scared, Don was excited beyond belief. An animal fuck was exactly what she wanted! Her cunt was on fire for bestial sex!
"Lick it, Nicky!" she cried.
The dog slid his rough tongue up over the length of her slit, taking a long drink of the sweet juices pouring out of her. He began lapping away at her cunt, and she went wild, feeling his hot animal tongue slurping up her slit and running over her throbbing clit. She opened her eyes and she saw that Nicky's prick was pushing its way out of its protective skin. It was hot pink and slick as it slid out into sight and Don wanted to suck on it almost as much as she wanted it in her.
"Like an animal, Nicky!" she cried. "Fuck me like your bitch in heat!"
She climbed to her hands and knees and spread her legs apart. Nicky climbed on top of her from behind and got his prick in position. He was obviously experienced at what he was about to do, and his mouth hung open and his tongue drooped down with a drop of saliva hanging on the end.
"Ah! Oh, stick that doggie prick in me, you fucking hound!" Don squealed. She was panting like an animal, and her hips were swaying back and forth so fiercely that Nicky was having a hard time getting it in. But he was persistent and kept hunching on her until his prick found her hole and she cried out in ecstasy at the feel of it, harder than anything she had ever had inside her, yet slick as a greased banana. It was huge, and Nicky's giant balls slapped against her ass as the dog humped on her, his great paws wrapped around her waist.
The dog humped faster and faster and the burning became a blaze in Don's cunt. Hank and Jerry watched in amazement as the fucking went faster and faster and their own pricks started rising until both were holding their swelling cocks in their fists, jerking themselves off like crazy. Sam had her fingers in her pussy, finger fucking herself like crazy.
The dog let out a howl and drove his powerful loins into Don as his animal prick drove deep into her pussy, sending boiling cum splattering inside her like a jet stream, and Don responded with an animal howl of her own, crying out in hunger and pain and ecstasy as her pussy came in the ultimate climax of reckless, wanton, animal sex. The two of them, Don and the dog, humped until they were both exhausted, until the sticky cum was dripping down both her legs and forming puddles on the floor. Donna finally collapsed, the dog with her, and they both lay exhausted. She held the dog in her arms, petting his furry forehead and whispering love words to him.
There were large stains in front of Hank and Jerry where each of them had shot their wad, and Sam had wet hands from her dripping pussy. They were all exhausted and drifted off to sleep. Nicky laid his head on Donna's shoulder and she circled his great body with her arm and they slept like that, like two lovers.
Don awoke much later to find herself alone in the room. She had been moved onto the cushions again to make her more comfortable. She felt exhausted. She couldn't remember ever fucking with such vigor. And the dog! It came back to her like a mystical experience. Nicky was what they had called him. It had been like nothing she had ever felt before. The dog's prick was different from a man's-thinner but longer, and much harder. But Nicky really knew how to use what he had to satisfy a person, that was for sure.
Hank came back into the room and greeted her then. He was dressed again in his Arabic garb, and Don noticed how old and sour he looked now that he had his clothes on again. He hadn't looked at all bad when he was naked, just a little old. Now he looked wicked.
"I guess I better get going," she said.
"Yes, Don. Sam and Jerry and I are most grateful to you. This has truly been an experience." Hank said. "Speaking for my people, I can say that your generosity will not go unrewarded. You can return to your people and tell them that an agreement is near. We have only to work out the details now. But I would say, with some reservations, of course, that we are nearly in accord."
"Gee, that's great, Hank." Don said. "And I really enjoyed it. You're a helluva lay."
"You, too, are a helluva lay, Don."
* * *
When Donna returned home late that night, she found John fast asleep on the couch. She thought of what she would tell him, and decided she would just tell him that the Arab had fucked her with his nose. She would say that it had been weird and that she hadn't enjoyed it at all. John would probably believe that. Besides, even if she told him what had happened that night, he would never believe her. Who would?
She couldn't talk about it at the office either, that was certain. She decided that she wouldn't say anything until Hardin spoke to her about it. She was sure S.O.B. would get the account, and then she would get a raise, a new position. But how would she get it across to John, that was the question. How could she reconcile being a call-girl with John?
Donna had some thinking to do. Shafton still hadn't talked to her about Klein, much less the Iranian Hank. Well, she would play it by ear.
She leaned on John's shoulder and gently whispered into his ear, "John?"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
John was awakened by a telephone call long after Donna had gone to work that Thursday morning. He picked up the phone from the bedside table.
"This is the X-Plore-All Company, Mr. Hurst of personnel speaking. We are very much interested in your application for the position of systems designer. We develop undersea exploration vessels, and we think your experience with planes may fit in with our requirements. Could you come by for an interview this afternoon, Mr. Redmond?"
"Could I!" John almost shouted. Then he regained a measure of dignity. "Yes, thank you. How about two o'clock?"
* * *
He was five minutes early for his appointment with Adelbert Hurst. For over an hour they talked calmly, pleasantly. Adelbert said, "I can tell you that I will urge the company to hire you."
"You-you will?"
Hurst nodded and stood up. "Let's see, this is Thursday. Could I call you at home Saturday morning to let you know definitely what our decision is?"
Just wait until Donna hears of this, John said to himself. But no, he really ought to wait until he would know if he had the position or not. Fifteen thousand a year was no poverty sum. He would hate to raise her hopes, and then the deal would fall through. He would wait until Saturday morning.
When he came home shortly before one o'clock Saturday morning, Donna told him sleepily that she would have to work that morning, at least until noon. Shafton had suggested she catch up with duties that had piled up rapidly on Friday afternoon.
"Our car is fixed," he said. "I brought it home tonight. I suppose you'll want to drive it to work?" Damn the luck, he added silently. This is the morning Hurst said he would call me about the job. I wanted her here so we could celebrate in case I'm lucky.
"No. I won't need the car because Clay has to work also," she said. "He'll drive me down and bring me home as usual."
That redheaded kid again, goddamnit! If the news Hurst had for him was good, he would go down to that damned office and yank her out of there without giving her time to say goodbye.
When the call came, it was good news. "Can you join us this next Wednesday, the first of September, Mr. Redmond?"
John held his elation until after he answered, "I certainly can, and thank you for calling, Mr. Hurst."
He locked the house, darted out to their car and drove faster than he should have. He was sure Donna would be as overjoyed as he was, now that she could stop working for Shafton, Oliver and Balaban. As he pressed hard on the accelerator, John wondered exactly what Donna was doing at this moment.
Neither Donna nor Clay had expected to see Shafton in the office, but he was already there when they arrived at nine o'clock.
He sent Clay to the basement storage room to straighten up some old correspondence files. Both Clay and Donna suspected the errand was but an excuse to get him as far away from her as the limits of the building would allow. Clay dared not think of the probable reason for Shafton's order. So he frowned, gritted his teeth and went to the basement, leaving Donna in Shafton's office.
"I want to discuss your future with us, Mrs. Redmond. That's why I came to the office on Saturday morning." He stood close in front of her, looking down into her upturned, questioning face.
"Otto Klein recommends you highly. I'm sure you'll be glad to know the business part of the transaction will show a good profit for S.O.B."
"I'm glad everything came out all right, Mr. Shafton."
"When we're by ourselves, I'm Harold, honey." From his pocket he pulled out four bills. "Here are the two hundred bucks bonus I promised you. He handed the four fifty-dollar bills to Donna.
She hesitated before she took the money. Now she was a professional, a paid mattress bouncer. Shuddering, she looked away from the greenbacks and the left hand that held them. She thought rapidly of the payments on the house mortgage, the remaining car payments and the additional hundred dollars they had to pay because of John's auto wreck-the hundred dollar deduction the insurance didn't cover. She took the money from Harold's hand without looking at him.
"We would like to make you our liaison girl-a convincer of reluctant clients and prospects, Donna." Shafton put his arms around her, and she had to restrain a shudder when the stump of his right wrist moved up and down her back. She leaned back and laid a hand on his left arm. "Don't," she murmured.
"Of course, if you decide not to take the ambassador position, we'll have to find someone else to do your work."
"I could still be the clerk that I was hired in as, Mr. Shafton."
"Almost anybody can be a clerk. Your other abilities are something else. We need you, Donna, and I know you need our bonus."
"Two hundred each time, Harold?"
"Yes, at first. As you become more experienced, you'll get a raise."
She sighed, laid her purse on the end of his desk and closed her eyes as her arms went around his neck. She winced when his mouth came down brutally hard onto hers.
Soon the stump of his right wrist was thrust between her legs. She moved them apart so he could saw away at her pussy through her panties. He felt how hot and ready she was. He boosted her onto his desk, flipped up her skirt and peeled down her panties. It was her frantic hands that freed his peter from his clothing as he mouthed and tongued her left breast.
Donna wished he had entirely denuded her, for she ached to feel his white beard tickle her tits and belly. But Harold was too near to cuming to wait for their undressing.
She surprised him by saying, "Fuck me, Harold. Screw the shit out of me." So he guided his boy-sized prick into her wide-open, pulsing pussy, and both of them wished he had more meat. When she groaned and clasped his bobbing ass with her legs, he turned on the action.
In the basement Clay's imagination ran wild. He imagined Shafton shafting his beloved Donna, and jealousy bloomed with a suddenness that equaled the speed of his erection. Nobody but he and her husband should hump Donna-especially none of their bosses. She surely couldn't want them to fuck her. Of course she didn't! If she was taking on Shafton right now it was because she felt it necessary to keep her job. He didn't consider the possibility that she might need a lot more good, stiff cock than one man could give her. He decided to become her protector. What difference if they did fire him; he was about to quit so he could go north to the state university.
"Damn that whoremaster," Clay muttered as he rode the elevator up to the seventh floor.
At the closed door to Shafton's office, he paused and pressed his ear against it. He had to know if she needed help, if she wanted it.
"Oh, please, Harold," he heard Donna moan. "Don't screw me. Go down on me. Make me come that way."
There was a long electric silence, and then: "No! Not that way. I don't want that damned thing in me!"
Clay tried the door knob and found the door unlocked. He flung it open. Donna lay crossways of Shafton's desk, held there by his left arm around her waist. Her legs were bent upward, her calves and feet waving as if to clutch Harold's body that was not there. It took a moment and a couple of sidesteps to show Clay that Shafton was fucking her with the stump of his right wrist. It looked like the arm plunged into and out of her halfway to the elbow. Her head hung upside down over the edge of the desk and her fists beat its surface as she gasped, "No, no. Not that way!"
Clay saw little but a flash of fiery anger. He rushed around the desk, hauled Shafton away from Donna and knocked him unconscious.
Donna, filled with icy horror, slipped off the desk and stood leaning against it, gazing in wild-eyed wonder at Clay.
"What have you done, Clay?"
"I'll do anything to help you. Even this. I heard you say you didn't want him to do it to you this way, darling."
"But, Clay, he wasn't really hurting me. He'll fire you now for sure."
"So what? I was leaving anyway in a couple of weeks."
"I-I wish you hadn't done that." She smiled, for she realized he was but a boy. "Still I appreciate what you've done more than I've appreciated anything in my life."
"You do?"
"Yes, Clay, honey, I do." She threw her arms around him and kissed him, holding the kiss a long time.
John rushed into the building and punched the self-service elevator button number seven. Cautiously he moved down the office corridor until he came to the open door of Shafton's office. He peeked inside and muttered a sound of rage, for he saw Donna being kissed by that redheaded kid. Her arms were around his neck and her hips moved back and forth. On the floor was a light spot that John recognized as her panties. "Why that son-of-a-bitch!" he muttered, rushing into the room.
He yanked Donna free of Clay's arms and floored him with two quick swings of his right fist.
"John!" Donna cried. "You'll get me fired."
"Fired, hell. You've just quit without notice. I've landed a real job at last. You'll not have to work anymore. C'mon home and we'll celebrate in bed."
"Darling! Do you mean it? You're not putting me on?"
"Hell, no. Put on your panties and we'll go home and screw until daylight tomorrow."
"Oh, goody! I can hardly believe it. You'll have to prove it to me."
"I'll prove it." As she turned to go, he added, "Don't forget your purse."
Two-hundred dollars in there, Donna thought. How badly she needed a good hard cum. If John could do as he promised, she would give him the four fifty-dollar bills. Neither of them looked back as they strolled arm in arm from the offices of Shafton, Oliver and Balaban.
