Politicians and evangelists constantly speak in favor of the nuclear family as the basic social unit of American life. But these government and religious leaders seem unaware that the society which they advocate with such ardor exists no longer. Recent studies have found that fewer than one fifth of this country's household units can be classified in the traditional grouping of father-mother-children.
Life in today's America is wracked with complexity and uncertainty. Old values are constantly challenged by searching individuals and avante garde philosophies.
But not everyone is in a position to initiate change. Most people find themselves in reaction situations. They are forced to grapple with ideas, opinions and emotions for which their upbringing may not have prepared them.
The following treatise examines such a situation. An attractive woman and her beautiful daughter, formerly part of a model family unit, are now buffeted by forces from without, as well as emotional and sexual awakenings deep inside them.
Fran Dickerson struggles to recover from a bitter divorce and to raise her adolescent child in the fast moving society of New York City. Ms. Dickerson suffers residual anger at the male sex and at the same time attempts to explore her own newfound yearnings for emotional and genital fulfillment. Concurrently her daughter experiences many of the same feelings, for what was considered taboo a generation ago is now openly looked upon as an integral part of the maturation process.
What was once a simple education about the "birds and bees" has in many respects turned into a series of traumatic experiences involving homosexuality, heterosexuality, lesbianism, incest, autoeroticism, experimentation and bizarrely tangled sexual relationships.
The story of Fran and Laura Dickerson illustrates.
CHAPTER ONE
Fran watched herself in the mirror mounted on the back of the open closet door. She threw the vibrator aside and went to work with her fingers now. That machine just couldn't do enough to satisfy her starving pussy. And she had to have satisfaction! If only there were a real man's penis here to fuck her. But no. She was all alone, here on her bed in the middle of a hot early summer afternoon, jerking herself off. Her eager fingers fondled the sensitive little bud of her clitoris. The sensations shot out from between her legs. The wetness began to come, first welling up in the depths of her vagina, and then oozing out spreading over her crotch and dripping onto the bedclothes. She watched, transfixed by the sight of her pussy in the mirror, frustrated in the knowledge that she was lubricating herself for a dick that would never probe into her.
Harder and harder she worked, probing with her fingers at every fold of her pussy, diddling that wonderful clitoris, probing far up into her hungry vagina. Her cunt seemed almost to swallow her whole hand. And still it ached for more. Fran's whole being cried out for more. She saw the reflection of her face now. It frightened her. The face in the mirror was the face of a madwoman. Her mouth was wide open. Her tongue lolled with desire. She looked like she was about to scream. She could feel the shouts forming now in the back of her throat. How she wanted a long hard penis down that throat! How she wanted a throbbing tongue eating and sucking away at her clitoris! But all she had were her fingers. They would have to do the job this afternoon.
Fran shifted herself on the bed and opened her legs wide in front of the mirror. She could see her thick black snatch so much the better now. She really did have quite a good bush and right now it was glistening with pussy juice. Her cunt was running a river right now! She just knew it! She could feel her pussy taking control this minute and she knew it was going to carry her away in a torrent of ecstasy. She was becoming quite the expert in masturbation. She was achieving that distinction late in life, but she was achieving it nonetheless. With one hand now she parted the folds of tender pink flesh that sheathed her vagina. The other hand she inserted as far as possible into the open devouring cunt. For one brief second she had fooled the nerve endings of her cunt into thinking it was a big hard dick that was penetrating into her body. But they responded eagerly to the masturbatory thrust of her own carefully manicured fingers. There might not be a sudden blast of white hot sperm today, but Fran's cunt was not going to deny itself any opportunity for an orgasm. She was beginning to fade now. The reflection in the mirror didn't matter quite so much now. It was the feeling that radiated out from her cunt that was taking over. Her frantically working hands smacked against the wetness pouring from between her legs. She clutched at her clit. She drove into her vagina. There weren't enough hands! Her breasts ached in their erectness. They had to be fondled! She began to moan. She didn't care. She was alone in the privacy of her own bedroom. And she was stretched out now, naked, exposed to the warmth of the sun pouring in through the windows. She wallowed hedonistically in the puddle of her own pussy juice. Her two hands had developed their own obscene rhythm. Her whole body began to jerk to the time they set. The spasms began to fire from below her waist now. Her hands pressed with all their might. Her cunt lusted for more and more of the stimulation. Her fingers frantically strove to keep it up. She was beginning to get sore now. She was afraid she might even draw blood. But the animal desire was rampant, running unchecked through her every fiber.
Then she felt the blasts coming. She was cumming! What no man was about to give her she was going to take for herself right now. Then it hit. The first spasm shot out from her clit and reverberated through every part of her body. More followed. Then more and more! She had given every bit of herself over to the control of her cunt.
It had never been like this with Owen, that sissy of a husband she used to have. That cocksucker had fooled her for years into somehow thinking that it was a woman's lot to go unsatisfied in sex. When the truth was the bastard simply couldn't get it up. For her or any woman. The very thought of all the orgasms she had missed drove Fran on to new heights of self stimulation. Her fingers ached from the hour of intense masturbation. Her clitoris was sore like it had never been before. She thought she was going to scratch the flesh right out of her pussy the way she was working on herself. But still she kept on. And still the orgasms kept on cumming. One after the other, crazy involuntary spasms welling up between her legs, blasting out from her pussy and then starting all over again. She didn't want them ever to stop. All she wanted in life now was to lay on this bed and finger herself into oblivion.
She drew one hand out of her cunt and picked up the vibrator again. She turned it on full balst and the little machine took up where her own strength had left off, keeping the pressure on her clitoris, keeping the orgasms running at full tilt. So she had finally discovered what female satisfaction was all about. And she thought it was the greatest thing in the world. Man or no man.
Fran's pussy was blasting away, firing powerful lusty sensations into every part of her body. Her tits were up-thrust and sensitive, all on their own. She hadn't touched them with her fingers at all. Her lips and mouth were aching to kiss, to suck, to eat! How she wished she could bend over right now and eat her own pussy! Her pussy had never been eaten by a man. She had always thought it was such a disgusting, filthy, perverted habit. But now something deep within her cried out for more satisfaction, for more exploration into these sensations which excited her so much. First it had just been a little diddling her finger around her clitoris, then it had moved on to stuffing her hands into her vagina and playing with herself more and more each day. It had started out of desperation and grown into a passion, into the high point of her day. Fran Dickerson, age thirty-seven, divorced mother, starved for the satisfaction to which every woman is entitled, had become a compulsive crazed masturbator! When her fingers were no longer enough, when she knew that she had to have more erotic stimulation than her own strength could provide, she had gone out and purchased her very own vibrator.
The silvery machine whirred away right now between her legs. Sharp sensations, never-ending electric stimulation, beat against the bud of her clitoris. The thousands of watts of power coming into the city were being channeled through miles of cable right into her pussy. And it was doing its job! She was writhing in a state of seemingly permanent orgasm. She had lost control of everything that was happening to her body. Had the electricity made her into some kind of sex slave? The vibrator seemed to have a life of its own and a hunger of its own. It was eating her out, beating its wild sensations into the throbbing bud of her clit, which was in turn relaying the mad firings of her pussy nerves throughout her whole being. She looked into the mirror once more, but she wasn't sure exactly what she was seeing. Was that Fran Dickerson on the bed? Did she have her legs splayed wide open to the humming little machine that pounded on and on and flayed away at her clitoris? How could she have ever come to such a state? Such a prim and proper girl from a good family, once married to a rich and handsome man? Look at her now, she thought. Was she a perverted bitch enslaved to her genitals, a lonesome compulsive masturbator whose only joy in life was to lay naked on her bed every afternoon and jerk herself into oblivion? But it wasn't oblivion. It was heaven! Fran had never been so happy in her life until she had discovered her true calling. Yes, she had to admit it now. After all these years. She was a human masturbation machine. Not a wife. Not a mother. But a permanent, self-contained, perpetual motion jerkoff pervert!
No amount of education, no amount of experience had ever prepared Fran for the sheer joys that she was discovering right this moment, right within herself. To think that these secret and exotic pleasures had been so close to her all her life and that she had never known them until now. That realization made her angry. That bastard Owen. How he had seduced her into marrying him! He had promised her everything. Indeed, he had given her quite a lot, but not what she had really needed. And to think that he had been fooling her all during the years they had spent together. Those nights he had worked late at the office. Owen Dickerson never had to work late a day in his life. Money came naturally to him. He had been born to it and he had never lost the touch. No, Owen had been spending all those nights with his young boyfriends, while she sat at home waiting for fulfillment that never was to come. He was always too tired or had to do some extra work in his study. When the real reason was that he could never get it up for her. Nor could any other woman. Fran was convinced of that. Owen just wasn't interested in woman at all. It was a wonder he loved his daughter as much as he seemed to. The bastard. She could count the times they'd had sex during their marriage on one hand. And those times it was always the same. She'd have to paw and paw him and work his cock up to a hard-on. Probably the whole time he was imagining it was some pretty young boy jerking him up to a hard-on. She had all she could do to get him to spill his wad into her. She didn't even have a chance to think about pleasure. It was all duty. The obligations of marriage. The marriage act as it had been taught to her all through her girlhood. No one had mentioned a thing about how she could enjoy herself. The word "orgasm" had never been spoken to her. That was only for men. That was when they shot their loads of sperm into a woman's vagina. That was when Owen rolled over and dribbled his cum into her cunt. And what she had to do to get that! It wasn't worth the effort. And they had finally called it quits after one of his more bizzarre weeklong orgies at a famous bath club. She could never forgive him for that one. Bringing one of his boyfriends home while she and Laura were there.
The vibrator kept doing its work. Fran had lost count of the times that she had cum this afternoon. She was jerking up and down to the tune of the humming and buzzing little stimulator. She sighed. She moaned. She groaned with delight. The best investment she had ever made. She was caught in a sex dance flat on her back. From her toes to the tips of her fingers. From her lolling lips to her squirming ass every bit of her was taking its cue from that little electric beast between her legs. It was running away with her now. Fran began to pant. It was like a race, a marathon. It was going to kill her. Her daughter was going to come home and find her dead on the bed, the mad vibrator still running on and on, having done its job too well, provided so much stimulation that she couldn't take it anymore. Well, if that was to be her fate, maybe it wasn't so bad. Fran was cumming like she had never cum before. She had become mistress of the orgasm only a month ago. Yes, that's right, she had had her first cum only the month before. She had never masturbated as a little girl and Owen had certainly never provided her with any kind of pleasure in the marriage bed. So she had been forced to give herself lessons. Every day she had studied. Breast stimulation. Clitoris fondling. Vagina exploration. First her fingers. Then the vibrator. And finally she had achieved her first orgasm. Finally after all these years. She had been too embarrassed to tell anyone. Laura, all of fifteen years old was probably jerking off like crazy every day. But Fran had a lot of catching up to do. And she was determined. She was going to make up for every last bit of pleasure that had been denied her for thirty-seven years. And last week she had finally experienced what it was all about. Her cunt had run away from her. She diddled herself all the way up there and then she had taken off. One glorious blast after another. She had wanted it to be never ending and for a time it seemed as though it never would. She had ignited some kind of fire below her waist. In a part of her body that she had always thought to be so cold and unresponsive she had found the fuel which was going to provide the energy for her to carry on, which would take over her life and become an end in itself. Passion! That's what she had to love for now. And as she lay now in the puddle of her own pussy juice, she knew that she was on her way to that goal. The vibrator wouldn't quit. She couldn't bring herself to turn off its switch. Her pussy kept up. Her hands were so tired she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hole the machine much longer. How could she hold the lips of her cunt apart any more? But she had to! She had to have this. For every orgasm that Owen had refused to give her, Fran had to cum twice, three, ten times! She had to spend the rest of her life on her back, blasting her cunt for all it was worth! She would neglect her daughter. She would forget her job at the gallery. She wouldn't eat. She could not spare the time for any of those things. There was only one thing in life! Her pussy! Her fantastic wonderful pussy. That was all. She was an explorer! A discoverer! She had found paradise and she wanted to spend the rest of her life right there. Paradise between her legs. It had been so close to her the whole time and she had only just realized it
The scream that had poised in the back of Fran's throat could stay there no longer. It was blasted out by a rocketing sensation that had shot up from her lust dominated pussy. The shout startled her now. She almost couldn't believe that it had come from her own mouth. Was she so far gone that she had no control left anymore? Was her brain subservient now to her cunt? Was everything she thought and did being directed from between her legs? It was exciting. It was maddening! They were going to take her away now and lock her up for the rest of her life for being sexually insane.
She was choking now. She couldn't breathe. The pleasure sensations were becoming too much to bear. She was going to wound her clitoris. She was flooding herself with too many electric impulses. She was going to overload her nervous system. Another moment and it was going to be too late. She was taking this too far. This masturbation was taking over her whole life. There was nothing left. Fran was just a pulsating, lusting, gyrating orgasm machine, writhing in mindless ecstasy on her own bed. She wasn't good for anything anymore except to cum and cum and cum! She had wiped out every other thought capability in her brain. She had destroyed her capacity to do anything other than wallow in her wonderful new found multiple orgasms.
It finally let up. She heard a giant truck crash into a pothole in the street outside the apartment. Yes, there still must be other life on his planet besides her crazed all powerful pussy. The still-pulsating electric vibrator fell away from contact with her clit and went squirming its way across the sodden bedclothes. She could hold the bucking, fucking beast no longer. She could spread the lips of her pussy no more. There simply was no strength left. She had really done it to herself this time. She had come too far too fast. She had cum too many times for her own good. She would never be able to recover from this one. Everyone would know in a short time what incredible degeneracy she had experienced. She would be committed to an institution for the sexually dangerous. Her daughter would be taken away from her. She was too perverted to be any kind of mother.
Fran was so exhausted she wanted to sleep for the rest of her life. The orgasms had overpowered her. The sensations still lingered in her clitoris, her vagina, her nipples. The blasts of sensation still seemed to remain somewhere within her, as if stored away in a memory bank, ready and waiting to be stimulated into the open again at some future time. Now that she had experienced such joy, Fran knew, it was going to be a part of her forever. She was making herself into a new woman, a female being who existed on a higher plane than before. She had achieved a new knowledge of her own being, of that wonderful part of her that was her sex. Her genitals were taking their place along with every other part of her that was exposed and accustomed to the human female experience. And Fran knew that it was only the beginning. She would have to have more of this. And more! And more! She would never be able to live for even a day without the joys of multiple orgasm. She would use her fingers, her hands, her vibrator. She would go out and buy an honest-to-goodness dildo (She needed a real dildo. She'd been too embarrassed to buy one in those early stages of her sexual selfeducation) with which to diddle and diddle and diddle some more. And who knows, in some future time she just might find a man; a real man who had a masculine cock and really knew how to use it! Wouldn't that be something else!
Sounds of the street grew louder now. Late afternoon traffic was making its way toward Holland Tunnel. So many people always seemed in such a hurry to get home in the evening after the workers and the truckers had gone home. She and Laura lived in Lower Manhattan where the neighborhoods were mostly industrial but where a large number of artists had converted big factory lofts into living spaces. There were others living in the neighborhood too. Owen had brought her here when he had bought part interest in an art gallery and decided that he should live nearby. But he had moved back uptown to a posh highrise apartment house after the divorce. Fran had suspected that he'd only used the gallery for the purpose of meeting handsome young artists anyway and that he'd lost interest when he decided to go back to tending his motion picture production outfit full time. For a while she thought she might just move out of the city of New York altogether, but there was Laura and her friends and her schooling and Owen seemed far enough away at the other end of town. And what could she herself do anyway? That was the real problem. She had had one year of college before she had married the gorgeous young Owen Dickerson, the man who was going to take care of her for the rest of her life. Well, it hadn't quite worked out that way. Thank goodness she had studied a little art history. Her friend Eva had offered her a part time job in the art gallery she owned. It wasn't much, but it kept the grocery money coming in. That bastard Owen was always late with the alimony and the child support. And with all the money he had too. Why he probably spent more in one night entertaining his current boyfriend than he would give her and Laura to live on for a week. She had had to get a lawyer after the bastard more than once and he would only go to the bank pleading poverty. Once his check had even bounced. The fucker! It wasn't so easy for Fran to face the idea of a relationship with a man again. Though she had to admit that Owen was probably the bizarre exception. There had been Roger just after the divorce. He had helped her through that rough time. He was a little older than she. She was kind and gentle, but that one night they had tried to get it on together at his summer house in East Hampton, she found that he simply couldn't get it up. She had really tried to be patient and considerate with him, but he had been so embarrassed that it had only made things worse. And she felt almost like an adulteress. Not that she should have. After all, she really did have a divorce decree in her pocket. It was just that she had never done it with any man besides her husband and she just couldn't get past the feeling that something was wrong somewhere. It had been a miserable time for both of them. She had never seen Roger much after that weekend. And she had retreated into her shell of self imposed sexual isolation. It wasn't a moral thing. She wasn't saving herself for any one in particular. It was just that she was so confused. She didn't know her own strengths. She didn't know her own needs.
And now, through her sessions of masturbation she was only beginning to explore the dimensions of her own sexuality. She had been utterly stunned. She had never expected such a response. Nothing in her previous life had even so much as given her a hint of the sensations of which she was capable, and even now something deep within her led her to suspect that very few men were experienced and aware enough to satisfy her to the limits of her potential.
She managed to look in the mirror once more. She reached back to spread the lips of her pussy again. How she had grown to love her genitals over the past few weeks. It was going to be a wonderful and permanent relationship, she knew. She was so happy to be a woman. It made her glad just to lie here in the erotically scented puddle of her pussy lubricants. Goodness, the whole bedroom was permeated with the powerful odor. Laura would know the minute she got home. Or would she? Fran wondered just how much her daughter knew about sex. She would love to find out. Then it dawned on her that Laura could probably teach her a thing or two.
Fran began to laugh. She'd thought there was some kind of insect in the room. But it was only the vibrator buzzing away on the bed. She looked at it for a moment and wondered whether she could slip it back into her pussy. That might just kill her. But still. No, she thought. She turned off the devilish little machine. She had grown over the past couple of weeks to regard her vibrator with a tender affection. And to think she had told the man in the store that she wanted to use it to help a chronic pain in her neck! How she had been ashamed of indulging in such a lewd lascivious form of autoeroticism. Not now! Not anymore! She was so proud of her vibrator. She loved it! The wonderful mysterious (she didn't know how it worked) machine gave her more pleasure in the first few moments she owned it than any man had shown her in her life. If there were a Vibrator's Lib, Fran would run out and become a charter member.
She held the vibrator to her lips now and kissed it. The scent of spent electricity and warm pussy juice mingled on the machine and entranced her. She had grown to love her own body during these sessions of solitary lovemaking. She never had any inclination to pay attention to herself before, but now, in her explorations she was discovering what an extraordinary creation the female body really was. Every orifice, every curve, every angle held some delight and surprise that was new to her and became precious immediately. Now she took her hands, glistening as they were with the scented essences of her cunt and she kissed her fingertips and licked them and sucked on them. She wanted to complete the sensuous cycle of self gratification, all the way from stimulation through orgasm and finally the savoring of her very own body juices. She wanted everything when she made love these days. She had learned to want everything from the first moment she realized what she had been missing for so long. And as she lay now sucking on her scented fingers like a little baby girl she knew that she was finally achieving the essence of self love. Total masturbation was her goal. And total masturbation she had experienced!
The digital clock on the nightstand flipped the hour. The little click awakened her from her delightful erotic reverie. Laura would be home soon! She was still a mother, no matter how many orgasms she might treat herself to this afternoon. She would have to get up, take a shower and get something for dinner. Goodness, was her bedroom a mess! Fran knew that her housework had gone downhill from the minute she started this self taught course in erotic studies. Clothes were strewn about the floor. The bureau was littered with open bottles of creams and moisturizers and perfume. The rest of the apartment was concealed under a thick layer of dust. What she really needed was some household help. But let her try to convince Owen of that! He'd ask her right away what she was doing with all the free time she had. She really did have just a part time job. She'd love to tell him to his face that she was learning what it meant to be a woman. Goodness, if anyone ever found out that she was nothing but a helpless compulsive masturbator, a no good jerkoff bitch!
Fran got up and the vibrator fell to the floor. Poor darling vibrator! She picked up the silvery little devil and cradled it in her arms. She hoped that she didn't hurt it. She hoped that it still worked. She kissed it again. The smell of her pussy was still there. She knew that she couldn't get along without it now. She was totally enslaved to the sensations that this little appliance sent through her body. She was a hopeless vibrator addict. She would always have to have one from this moment forth in her life. She would have to take one with her wherever she went. And no matter how many she owned; no matter if a man's dick ever did penetrate her to the point of sublime pleasure, she would always love this wonderful companion for being the first to show her what wondrous delights she could achieve just by stimulating her own person.
She had to put the vibrator away before Laura got home. Imagine! A mother concealing her sex devices from her very own daughter. Fran was almost ashamed. If only she could share these new experiences with someone whom she loved, with someone who could appreciate them along with her. If only there were some one in whom she could confide. Certainly none of her female friends met the qualifications. And her male friends? Well, she wasn't sure that "friends" was the right term. Her years with Owen had pretty well insulated her from contact with anyone in a real sense, except, that was, a certain intimacy she had achieved with Laura. But even that had seemed to lessen over the past year or so, probably as a result of all the legal hassles and the enmity that she had felt for Owen. Fran often wondered what Laura thought of her versus her father. She always seemed cheerful enough, and there was certainly nothing on the surface to give any indication that she thought less of her mother. But Fran wondered. Her daughter was quickly growing into a woman in her own right and she desperately wanted her to avoid the bad experiences in which she had become entangled. She wanted to make sure that Laura was every bit the complete sensuous female before there was ever a chance for anyone to cheat her of that most precious part of her own being. But still Fran hesitated. Something held her back from being so open about sex with her daughter. And at the same time something in Fran so urgently wanted to go right to Laura and use the girl's own feelings as a kind of foil for her own new found experiences.
Fran finally put the beloved vibrator back in its box. She wondered if Laura had ever experienced anything like it. Maybe she should offer it to her daughter for a session? Wouldn't that be something. The two of them jerking themselves off together. A real mother and daughter act! Of course Laura might have all kinds of erotic devices of her own. Fran had never been able to bring herself to search the girl's room.
Fran looked at the clock and gasped. Was it late! She had just finished her longest session yet. There was no time for a shower. And the whole place smelled like pussy! She was rampant with the juice of her own pussy. And she loved every sniff. She breathed as deeply as she could. Again and again! She couldn't get enough. She would never be able to get enough. She stuck her smelly fingers back into her mouth and sucked on them once again. How wonderful it would be, she thought, if she could only bend far enough to eat her own pussy!
But now she to cover up. She put the vibrator back in the drawer beneath the nightstand. She splashed some cologne over her, she even sprayed some into her pubic bush. She gathered up the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed. She threw them into the hamper and pulled open her bureau drawers. They were filled to overflowing with her new frilly and lacy lingerie. She had been a very bad girl. She'd taken one of the paychecks from the gallery job and instead of using it for household money she'd gone off and splurged on the vibrator and on a whole wardrobe of sexy underwear. Lots of black lace bikinis and bras, things that were soft and felt so sensuous next to her nipples and her twat. Black panties, black as her snatch. She was going to get all wet between her legs just looking at herself. She would have to find some way to hold off from touching herself until after she slipped into bed tonight. Well, maybe not, maybe she could get away after dinner and diddle herself to orgasm while Laura did her homework. She wondered what would happen if Laura inadvertently burst in on her sometime while she was in the middle of one of these jerkoff sessions. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. It might just be a way of breaking the ice between them. She remembered how funny the girl had been when she'd brought home that shopping bag filled with her new underwear. Fran had said that she was turning over a new leaf, transforming herself into a sensuous woman. They both joked, but Fran had been too ashamed to admit that she was indeed serious. She'd even been too embarrassed in the store to buy any of the really sexy lingerie that really got her excited, things like garter belts and stockings and corsets and waist cinches. Some of the garments looked like they'd come out of a stag movie. But Fran had a sudden fantasy that she wanted to act in a stag movie, to show millions of drooling men what she could do to them, how she could tease their cocks from a dead hang to a blast of cum in nothing flat. Would she ever love to be queen of the dirty pictures, to expose herself and her goodies for all the world to see. Her genitals, her nipples, her ass, her thick jet black snatch, all these things had been hidden far too long. She wanted to have a coming out party. And it would be the blast of the century!
Enough diddling around. Enough standing in her black bikini in the middle of her bedroom ogling herself. It was time to get some clothes on. She took one last look at her body. Thirty-seven and she was still a piece of ass. She knew that she was good-looking, tall and strong and slender. How did she know? Well, for one thing she would never have become Owen's wife if she hadn't been beautiful enough. That bastard had standards. He couldn't stand to have anyone or anything around him that wasn't absolutely gorgeous. And though beauty of the physical kind wasn't something that people in her family talked about, she could tell as soon as she was old enough that she had something special there. All through grade school and boarding school and her year at college, the way people looked at her and talked about her she knew. She just knew. And whenever she looked in the mirror she liked what she saw. And she always wanted to like what she saw so she took care of herself. She ate right. She exercised and she had become a mistress of good dress and good grooming. She would sooner go hungry than have a hair out of place of have a single ragged toenail. And she knew that she always looked well put together. The looks and the whistles that she got from men along the street told her that. So she had no trouble convincing herself that she was indeed a real piece. But a piece of ass by nature is meant to fuck and be fucked and so far Fran had fallen short on that score. So far in this game after she had gotten rid of that queer husband of hers she had given herself only to herself. Maybe that would change. Maybe it wouldn't. She was experiencing so much that was new she would have to wait and see what happened in her relations with other people, especially men. For the time being, masturbation was her thing.
She resisted the temptation to stick a finger into her exotic panties and pulled on a pair of blue jeans instead. She slipped a tee shirt over her head. She didn't need a bra. She was only going to be home with Laura this evening. A pair of high heeled sandals completed her outfit and she went out into the kitchen. On the way she passed Laura's room. It was neat as a pin, as usual. She didn't know how her daughter managed to keep it that way. She never saw her doing any kind of housework, and she hardly ever went in there herself. Fran had no desire to involve herself in certain things and housework was definitely one of them. When she and Owen were together they always had house hold help, but that had gone the way of alimony checks after the split. Fuck Owen again. The cocksucker himself was as anal compulsive as they come, and while Fran always turned herself out with the best of them, she really did wonder about her daughter. There was so much for her to be concerned about where Laura was involved, but how was she going to go about establishing any kind of really intimate relationship with her daughter?
Fran smoothed back her hair. It was dark and short and done in the latest New York style but a quick glance in a mirror told her that something about her wasn't quite right. Nothing obvious, but she could tell somehow that she had just finished a marathon masturbation session, and she was afraid that Laura would pick it up as soon as she walked into the room. She had that "fucked out" look about her. Maybe Laura would think that she had spent the afternoon with a man instead of jerking off. Fran wondered what her girl would think of that. Would she be happy? She tried a couple of times to set her up with men who were the fathers of her friends. There were plenty of divorced men around to date. But except for a couple of purely social occasions, Fran hadn't really picked up on Laura's suggestions. And for her part Laura really hadn't been too insistent. Then if she suspected that Fran were really making it with some guy, maybe she would get incredibly jealous. Fran had heard of that happening as well. She was so confused where her daughter was concerned. But there would be time to think about those things later. Now she had to get some dinner on the table. Laura took a dance class every afternoon and she came home famished. The girl ate like there was no tomorrow. Fran admired her. A tall, slender woman, even if she did take after her bastard father in almost every way, this daughter of hers was turning into a real beauty.
But that beauty had to be fed. Fran wondered what she had in the house in the way of food. Owen's check was late as usual and Eva didn't pay her until tomorrow. So much for that pair of sexy panties that she'd seen in a store window on the way home. Real silk and outrageously priced. How she would love the lush feeling of real silk against her snatch and her hips and her ass. Wouldn't she rather feel like a sex goddess than eat? Of course she would! But Laura might not appreciate it so much.
Fran found a couple of lamb chops in the freezer and a few vegetables in the hopper at the bottom of the fridge. Not an elaborate dinner, but she could fix them up into something presentable, and tasty too. Not that she felt much like fooling around in the kitchen, but that was the way it had to be. And come to think of it, her cunt and clit were still a bit sore from the jerkoff session to resume that activity just yet. She didn't want to wear out her pussy so soon after she found out what a great thing it was.
The battery of locks on the front door all clicked at the same time. Laura? A little earlier than she expected. Anyway, she was getting pretty good with the key. Three locks almost simultaneously! Maybe she could take up a life of crime if her dance career didn't work out. At least she wouldn't have to worry about late alimony checks.
"Hi Mom!"
The image of Owen, female variation, popped into the room. Was this girl ever a beauty. Or was Fran just a sucker for the type, the tall classy and classic looks. At least Laura looked like a million bucks even if Fran couldn't give her money. Of course, someday Owen just might come through, considering this was his own flesh and blood. Fran had to admit that she would do it all over again, if looks were the criteria. She gave her daughter the usual welcome home kiss.
"Home a little early today, I see."
"Who Mom, you or me?"
"Eva gave me the afternoon off. Things were pretty slow at the gallery. What's your story? Did you skip out of your dance class or something?"
"Miss Makoff was sick. She let us go early. Really, if you want to know the truth, I think she's in love."
"That old witch! Who's the lucky guy?"
"Surely you're joking, Mom. Miss Makoff is hardly the type to be interested in a man."
Fran was disturbed by her own innocence. Now she knew for sure that she came from another generation. She would just have to keep quiet and learn, that's all. If only Laura could give her some kind of crash course, but she was always so afraid to broach the subject. Maybe Laura would tip her hand about something soon.
"Lamb chops okay?"
"Great! I'm starving."
"Well go take your bath or whatever you want to do and I'll slip the food into the microwave. Dinner'll be ready by the time you get out."
Laura smiled, gave her mother another kiss, and disappeared toward toward the bathroom. A second later Fran heard the sound of water running. She got the things ready, chopped a few vegetables, set them on the stove to steam, and sat down with a glass of red wine.
She took a couple of sips and then her eyes wandered to Laura's bag, which was resting near the door. No, Fran thought, she could no more bring herself to search through her daughter's bag than she could go into her bedroom and root around. Even the thought was ridiculous. But the thought just wouldn't go away. What would Laura have in the bag she carried her dance clothes in anyway? A diaphragm? A dildo maybe? Some pornography? She'd heard that women's pornography was the coming thing these days. If only it had been around when she was a young girl. What the hell was women's pornography anyway? She'd love to know! Fran just took another sip of wine and tended to the lamb chops.
In the bathroom Laura was luxuriating in a bubble bath. It had to be quick, she knew, her mother would have dinner on the table in no time. But Laura didn't want to take a quick shower. She wanted something more out of the water right now. She wanted the liquid to swirl around her young pussy. How good it felt to have the warm water seep into that most intimate orifice! How good it felt to explore with a finger far up into the soft recesses of her cunt. She had only become aware of what she could make herself feel over the past few months. She had started her explorations slowly, almost afraid at first to play with her body, afraid that somehow she might cause harm to herself. She remembered how she had first become so afraid when her snatch hair had started to grow in, how she thought she had contacted some kind of disease. And the time she had first menstruated. She had nearly been frightened to death until her mother explained it was all a proper part of becoming a woman. But no one had ever explained to her the wicked sensations she would feel when she touched her fingers to her clitoris, or when she inserted a finger or something into her vagina. Yes, something told her, the sensations were so good that they just had to be wicked somehow. She talked about these things with her girl friends in the locker room at school sometimes, or when they were over at each others' houses listening to records or smoking cigarettes. Each girl seemed to have her own idea, or would repeat what she'd heard from a big sister. But Laura knew that in many ways it would be altogether up to her to explore herself. It was she who would experience these private feelings all on her own and no matter how much others talked or explained it would come down to the same thing. And she loved these opportunities to diddle with herself in the bathtub or sometimes alone in bed after she had turned the lights out.
She had a finger on her little clitoris bud now, and she was lolling it about under the warm water. Gently at first, then harder and harder. It was getting too good to even think about stopping right now. The sensations were there again, and they were beginning to shoot out from between her legs, all through her thighs and down to her toes and around deep inside her. She even began to feel something, a kind of sensitivity within her breasts. She touched a finger to her nipples and discovered that the little buds were hard now. And did it feel good to touch them! She couldn't take her hand away. She hoped fervently that her mother wasn't going to bust in right now. She didn't know what she'd do if her mother found her playing with herself like this. It was dangerous, but she couldn't stop. She just couldn't. She thought she was going to slide down now under the warm water and be swallowed up in her own passion. So this was the beginning of everything the girls talked about constantly! She kept fingering herself, moving her middle finger from around her clitoris into her vagina, all the way, deeper and deeper, inside her as far as it would go. There was still plenty of room, too much. She was really big down there. It was burning now. She was setting herself afire somehow. The water just wasn't that hot. It was her cunt that was doing it to her. It was so easy now that she had broken through her hymen. It had happened last week during stretches in dance class. There had been blood and she had asked to be excused and she had gone to the locker room and locked herself in a toilet stall and examined herself as well as she could with the little hand mirror that she carried in her purse. Imagine, she thought, she had popped her own cherry in Miss Makoff's class. In a way she had been kind of sad. She had always thought that some handsome young man would rid her of her maidenhead, but no, it had happened in the class run by the old bull dyke herself. She knew Miss Makoff would have been happy to pop her cherry herself. Just the way that lady looked at her made her aware that she was a prime candidate for seduction. There were plenty of stories, of course, from older sisters again, but Miss Makoff had never really said or done anything that Laura could view as a direct attempt to get her into bed.
And as far as her cherry was concerned, well, the sadness had only lasted a day or so. After all, she was almost embarrassed to be a virgin at fifteen. From what her girlfriends told her, she just might be the only girl in this part of New York City who had never been fucked-or raped. And while she didn't exactly believe everything she heard along those lines, there was something inside her that desperately wanted to "catch up." Popping her cherry was sort of one way to do that. And there hadn't been any male candidate on the horizon. Warner Short seemed to be the only halfway interesting guy in her life right now, and she wasn't entirely sure about him. He'd invited her out to his parents' country house on Saturday and she had accepted, but as far as being sexually aroused by the boy, she didn't imagine being that intimate with any man that she knew. Of course, she had crushes on guys from time to time, but male-female sex wasn't the only thing going on these days, even among kids her age. She knew for a fact that some of the guys in her class had done it with some older men. And there was at least one girl she knew who had made it with some woman who had picked her up in a bar.
She had to stop with the finger now. But it felt so good! Her middle finger was into her cunt all the way up as far as it would go and she just couldn't bear to pull it out. She didn't care about dinner. She didn't care if her mother ever found her in here doing this to herself. Her pussy ached for something, for some kind of satisfaction. Something! Whether it was a finger or a man's penis or another woman's tongue. She had to have something in there.
Then she remembered the little vibrator she bought this afternoon. It was a little battery powered thing that she had picked up on her way to dance class and had stuffed into her bag. She couldn't wait to try it out. But where? After her mother went to bed? Maybe she'd better get it out of the apartment before her mother found it. Goodness! She'd left the bag in the kitchen. Right in front of her mother! What if she went through it and discovered the penis-shaped white plastic vibrator?
Laura got out of the bathtub. It was almost too good fingering herself to stop, but she really was afraid of her mother finding the vibrator. She wouldn't know how to explain. So her orgasm would have to wait for some other time. Orgasm! The very sound of the word made Laura all wet and juicy down there between her legs. That's what she had to have. She was playing with herself every day now, but she still didn't know whether she'd had an orgasm or not. The other girls had talked about orgasms often enough, or "cumming" as they called it, but none of them had been able to explain exactly what it felt like. Some said it was like a rush. Others called it a kind of ecstatic spasm. Some said it was both of those things, and still a few girls maintained that it wasn't anything like either one. Laura had heard all kinds of stories about women going through their whole lives without ever having an orgasm and she was determined not to be one of those. She wasn't really too worried. Women were entitled to enjoy sex these days. Not line in her grandmother's time, or even when her mother was growing up. But she still knew that she hadn't quite experienced everything that her cunt could do. She had only scratched the surface of her pleasure senses. She was a beginner, she knew, and she needed some guidance in the ways of female sexuality. But she was eager. And she knew that she would be conscientious with her studies.
Laura hurried back into the kitchen in time to find her mother setting the table for dinner.
"What took you so long, darling?" her mother asked.
"I was just a little sore from some of the exercises Miss Makoff made us do in class today and I wanted to soak my muscles a bit." Laura wasn't sure that her explanation was so convincing. She shot a quick glance at her bag. It was still on the chair. She didn't think, for some reason, that her mother had looked into it.
"Tell me, Laura," her mother asked. "Is this teacher of yours, Miss Makoff, really a lesbian?"
Laura was startled by the question. But at least her mother wasn't holding up the vibrator that she had brought home.
"Why, sure, I guess so." She hesitated. "Well, all the girls say so."
"Has Miss Makoff ever made advances to you?"
The question nearly knocked Laura off her feet. She thought of the way Miss Makoff had held her a couple of times as she did some stretching exercises. Was that a come-on?
"Why no, Mom. She hasn't. I really don't think she's done that to anyone in the class."
"I was just curious, that's all." She paused, as if she were about to make a statement of major importance. "I remember one physical education teacher I had in college. She was really something else. Even in an all women's school like Wellsley, she was really notorious. There were all kinds of dykes in that place, but they finally had to let this one go because she was letting the whole town know what she was up to."
Fran told a couple of anecdotes about the adventures of this Miss So-and-So. Laura was really surprised that her mother would mention such a thing to her. And she had never heard her use a word like "dyke" before. Laura wondered. Did this mean that a change was going to take place in their relationship? Would they begin to look at each other as individual women now after so many years in the adult-child situation? Laura hoped so. She felt she needed someone that she could talk to, and none of the girls or boys that she knew really qualified on that score. Of course, there were a lot of things that she couldn't even think about revealing to even her mother right now. The vibrator was one of those things. But if they started to really talk to each other, maybe that hang-up would disappear in time. She hoped so. She wanted to confide in an experienced woman so badly.
Fran poured herself another glass of wine and gave some to Laura as well. She had always believed in introducing her daughter to the finer things in life and she felt it was important for her to learn how to handle something like alcohol.
The two of them sat together enjoying their dinner and talking over the events of the day. They didn't discuss anything important, and neither of them mentioned the things that were on their minds most of all: their questions about their sexuality.
"Goodness!" Fran exclaimed. "I forgot to tell you. Your cousin is coming to spend the summer with us."
"Which cousin?" Laura had so many cousins that she couldn't keep track of them. She didn't know whom her mother was talking about. And the idea of a semi-permanent house-guest didn't exactly grab her right off.
"Peter. Peter Wilde. Aunt Cynthia's son."
"The actor?"
"Yes. That's the boy. He's probably a man now, though. I'm sure he's well into his twenties."
"He's probably a faggot."
Fran was taken aback at her daughter's remark. Why would Laura say such a thing?
"Come on, Laura. Give the fellow a chance." Fran's experience with that husband of hers always made her very conscious when someone was accused of being homosexual. "You haven't seen Peter since he was a very young boy."
"Well," Laura replied. "He's probably still a queer. Most actors are, you know."
Fran said nothing. She just got up and began to clear the table. She was a little irritated with Laura for that remark, but at the same time it set something inside her to wondering. All she needed right now was another gay man around her. Just after eighteen years worth of Owen's running around. It wasn't that she thought she was prejudiced. She thought gay people were entitled to whatever lifestyle they wanted. She just thought she needed a little breathing space of her own. And she didn't want anyone like that having too much influence on Laura. She was at such an impressionable age. Fran was even a little worried about Miss Makoff. But she guessed that if she survived that gym teacher herself, she should at least give Laura the benefit of the doubt.
The worry began to recede a bit when Laura went off to her room to do her homework and Fran began to clean the kitchen. She was sort of curious to see how her sister's son had turned out. She hadn't seen him in a long time either and she knew very little about him, except that he had become an actor and had been working in Los Angeles for a couple of years and now wanted to come to New York to try to break into theater here. So when he wrote and asked if he could stay with her until he managed to find a place of his own she had seen no reason not to grant his request. He was flying in tomorrow. She would leave her worrying until then, she decided.
Fran sprayed the dishes. She watched the jet of water spurt out from the hose and wash away the soapsuds from the plates. Then she turned the jetspray on her hands. How warm and full of gentle force, she thought. Then she had an idea. Yes. Wouldn't it be nice if she could do something like this for her pussy. She could feel the hot spray between her legs now, and her crotch began to get all wet and excited. That's what she wanted. A little water spray for her pussy. She wondered how she could hook one up in the tub, and how she could explain it to Laura.
In the other end of the big loft apartment, Laura was in her room with her door shut and her homework books open on her desk. She was seated at her desk, too. But her mind wasn't on math or history. She was indulging in a sex fantasy, and her hand had slipped down inside her robe and she was busy fingering her clitoris. She did so gently because the little bud became sore very quickly and she wanted to save something for the huge jerkoff session she had planned for after she got into bed for the night. Thank goodness her mother hadn't discovered the vibrator. And she had tested to see already if it made any discernible noise. Laura found that if she turned it on in bed with the covers drawn over her and the bedroom door closed it made no sound at all that anyone could hear. She was excited just thinking about how good it was going to feel. And it was shaped just like a man's penis! Wait a minute, she thought. What was this sex fantasy that was happening. She hadn't stopped to think what it was all about. Was she concentrating on what it would be like to experience the penetration of a man's rock-hard organ? No! She wasn't. And she almost couldn't believe it. She was actually playing with herself, stimulating her erotic drives with lewd thoughts of her best girlfriend's snatch. She'd seen Pamela's lovely blonde pubic triangle this afternoon and she just couldn't get the sight of it out of her mind's eye. So silky looking and wispy! She just wanted to kiss that little mound and bury her face in the soft bush. Laura worked at her clitoris even harder now. How she wished she had a lovely snatch like Pamela's! She felt her nipples hardening again, right under her robe. She was going to have to do something about this. She was going to have to bring herself off somehow. If only Pamela knew! If only Pamela were here with her right now and would let her get down on her knees and put her head between her legs and let her nuzzle and lick and suck. She would make her friend feel so good! She would do to Pamela with her mouth what she was doing to herself right now with her own fingers. The fire was burning hotter now. The flames were leaping, licking out from her clitoris and spreading throughout her whole lower body. The heat was leaping up into her breasts, hardening her nipple buds, making her lips long for the taste of Pamela's beautiful twat, making her own lips long so much for the taste of Pamela's tongue. How she wanted to drive her tongue deep into Pamela's mouth! To eat every bit of that beautiful classmate of hers! She was working even harder at her pussy with her fingers now and the scented juice was beginning to wet her own snatch. The wet was to lubricate the entry of a masculine cock into her cunt, she knew, but she wasn't thinking about cocks right now. There was only one person in the world that she wanted to make love to right now. The beautiful Pamela. The prettiest girl in her class. How she wished she were with her right this minute and they could go to bed and spend the whole night together and she would give her wonderful friend the gift of an orgasm. How she wanted so much to do that!
Laura began to jerk in her chair. Her fingers were out of control, rampantly working against the little nut bud of her youthful clitoris. Every sensation was new now. She was bringing herself farther than she had ever come before. Was this going to be it? Was her love, Pamela, about to inspire the very first real orgasm of her life?
She was bent over now. A book fell off the desk and onto the floor. Did it make enough noise to bring her mother rushing into the room? She didn't care. It was one involuntary jerk after another now. She was hot and she was getting hotter. The sweat was pouring off her brow. The juice was pouring out of her tender young pussy. She was making herself sore with crazed, lusting, insatiable desire. And the whole time beautiful young Pamela, her dearest lover, was standing next to her, naked as she was in the locker room this afternoon.
Then it came. It was a blast that started in there, right up to her cunt. Laura didn't know exactly where, but it had to be the orgasm. She had to be cumming. She was panting, stifling a scream. She couldn't let her mother know what was going on inside her body, even though something desperately wanted to share this rare and precious experience with the woman who had given life to her. And with Pamela, whose beauty had inspired her to achieve this sought after goal. Now she knew why the other girls couldn't exactly describe what was happening when they had orgasms. Neither could she, Laura knew. But she knew that this was only the first of many times for her. She would be cumming and cumming and cumming again. She was going to crawl into bed after she finished her homework and she was going to start all over again with her new vibrator.
She was leaning over her desk now, still panting as if she had just finished a marathon race. The fire, the incredible muscle spasms that had been totally beyond her control and yet had provided her with a transport to ecstasy, still had their drug-like effect on her.
Then something else shot its way into her consciousness. Was she a dyke? Was she, Laura Dickerson, a lesbian, a female homosexual? The woman equivalent of those sissified men and tough looking studs that she saw on the streets every day? What was going on inside her that she would jerk off over the fantasy of her best girlfriend? Confusion began to well up inside her. She wanted to know. She was frantic to find out. And then the vision of naked Pamela, beautiful naked Pamela, returned. She exposed her lovely blonde pussy once more and she took Laura in her arms and caressed her and invited her to have another taste of the scented juices that spouted from the fountain of her vagina. And Laura gradually found a kind of peace, a sensuous reverie in the thought of her friend being there next to her.
Fran Dickerson spent this evening much as she did any other while Laura stayed in her room doing "homework." Fran read a couple of magazine articles, talked on the phone for a while with one of her friends, and mixed herself a drink to sit in front of the television with and watch the news. When she decided it was time to go to bed, she made sure the front door was locked and went to the other end of the house. On the way she passed Laura's room. She knocked on the door as she always did. She believed it was important to respect her daughter's privacy.
"How's about a goodnight kiss for your mother?" Fran asked.
Laura looked up and smiled. She was stretched out on her bed and she was reading a book. Fran couldn't help but notice that the girl's robe had fallen open and exposed her pubic mound. She was struck by the growth of her daughter's pubic hair. It wasn't quite so full yet, but it had certainly made a good start. This daughter of hers was going to have quite a snatch before too long. She wondered who was going to be the first to taste that delicious little pussy. That is, if it hadn't been tasted already.
Fran tried to keep from staring at the girl's twat as she bent over to kiss her.
"Don't stay up all night doing your homework. After a while there's a limit on how much you can absorb."
"Don't worry, Mom. This is just some background reading that doesn't require too much concentration. I'm going to put it down in a minute anyway."
Fran kissed her daughter again and left the room. A few minutes later she was in her own bed and her hand had found its way down below her waist, to her aching clitoris. Her clitoris ached to be fulfilled with pleasure, and it didn't matter that she was still sore from that marathon vibrator session this afternoon. She was going to masturbate herself to sleep again tonight. It wasn't long before the now-practiced fingers did their magic on the clit bud and wormed their way into the mouth of her eager vagina. There was a blast of orgasm, then another, followed by still more before she lapsed into a deep sleep filled with erotic dreams.
Meanwhile in the darkened bedroom down the hall a soft hum sounded from beneath the covers on Laura's bed, soft sighs emanated from her tender pink lips. Pamela was with her in her thoughts again as she experienced the second orgasm of her life.
CHAPTER TWO
Fran was home early the next afternoon. She wanted to be in the apartment when Peter arrived. So she convinced Eva to let her off a little early. On the way home she passed that lingerie boutique and stopped to gaze in the window. Before she knew it something had drawn her inside and she had parted with a fair amount of her paycheck in return for that pair of fantastic silk panties that she wanted so much. She couldn't wait to get home and slip into them. In fact, she almost ran all the way home from the store, except she did take the time to stop at the liquor store and pick up a couple of bottles of wine. She thought she should do something a little special to welcome Peter to New York. After all, he was her sister's son.
Fran bent over the sink to wash some vegetables. She almost couldn't believe it! Her pussy juice was oozing right through her new silk panties! They were doing more of a job on her than she had thought possible. Right here under a pair of old ragged blue jeans! She wondered what anyone would say if they saw them. Fran had never worn any panties like these before. There was nothing much to them. They were little more than a g-string, really. And everyone knew that only strippers, whores and perverts wore g-strings. A little black silk panel with embroidery covered her snatch-barely; and another, similar swatch of silk stretched from one cheek of her ass to the other, just barely hiding her ass-hole from view. And thin silk ribbons joined the two panels together. She had to tie them in bows at her hips. Maybe it was the act of tying herself up that had started to get her off. Now she was afraid she was going to soak the panties so badly that she'd have to take them off. It just wouldn't do for her nephew to walk in and find her reeking of lusting pussy!
She heard a car door slam outside down on the street. She went to the window and craned her neck for a view. All she saw was a taxicab. Whomever had gotten out was already inside the building. She waited for the buzzer. A second later she heard it. It had to be her nephew. Fran's heart started to beat faster. She didn't know why. There was no reason on earth. Except it was going to be interesting to have a man in the house again, even just temporarily. And she guessed that she was just plain curious. She hadn't seen this fellow since he was a tiny boy. He had no doubt changed a lot.
She opened the door in response to the knock. The man towered over her.
"Aunt Frances?"
Fran was nearly knocked off her feet. If this hunk of man was really an actor he had chosen exactly the right profession. And he was no character actor either, he was one handsome leading man. He had an angular face and tousled blonde hair and when he put an arm to her waist and kissed her she felt she was going to be crushed to death. Any bitterness she might have felt toward men in general was swept away for a brief moment as she fantasized a scene from some long ago romantic movie.
Here was a man. Or was he? Fran came back to life, and to the realization that she would have to wait and see. Her interest in her nephew had been tempered .just a bit with the desire that she and Laura shouldn't have to put up with any kind of intrusion in their daily lives.
But she put on a good face and tried to give him the warmest welcome that she possibly could. After all, coming to the Big Apple and starting fresh couldn't possibly be easy for anyone. Fran knew that if one wanted to be successful in New York City, one had to have one's act together. She was quite curious about this boy.
"I thought you might like to put your things in my ex-husband's room." She tried to laugh. "We were kind of separated before we were separated, if you get what I mean. You reap the dividend of a rather comfortable masculine-style bedroom. Nothing pink in it at all." She resisted the urge to make a comment about Owen's sexual preferences. Peter might be the same way for all she knew at this point. She guided him to the room, which was next to her own, and invited him to freshen up after his flight.
"I'll have a drink waiting for you when you come out of the shower." Fran almost couldn't believe she was offering a cocktail to someone she'd last seen when he was wearing a Little League uniform. It could have made her feel terribly old, that is, until she passed the hallway mirror and stopped to take stock of herself. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all. She patted her tummy. Her pussy was still oozing out its love juices, and that kiss from her nephew the leading man, matinee idol or whomever, had done nothing to stem the flow between her legs. She sniffed the air in an attempt to pick up a whiff of her pussy scent. She didn't think she could smell it yet. But then she was never known for having such acute senses. She wondered what Peter's impression of her was. She hadn't wanted to come on to him as some kind of lonely old sex starved divorcee. But this living with a sex symbol was going to be even more interesting than she had thought. She hadn't counted on her nephew being such a piece of male ass. And what about Laura. What effect was this male animal going to have on the woman child of the house?
All these things were going through Fran's mind as she waited for her nephew to rejoin her in the kitchen. In fact, Fran didn't wait for Peter to join her before mixing herself a cocktail. She was nearly finished with a tumbler full of vodka and ice before he stepped out into the kitchen. And the effect of the drink and thoughts of the image of that handsome man did nothing but stimulate the flow of the liquid between Fran's legs to an even greater extent. She kept up her sniffing, but she just couldn't bring herself to go into the bedroom and slip into another pair of panties.
Then Peter came out. Fran did a double take. The boy-man was naked to the waist, toweling himself dry as he walked into the room. His longish blonde hair was slicked back from the shower and the little tufts of blonde hair on his chest glistened. His feet were bare and he was practically bursting out of his tight, faded blue-jeans. He seemed totally innocent of the effect that he had on Fran, though she knew that aunt-nephew sexual attraction was a taboo tantamount to incest. Of course, Fran thought, her sister's son was her own flesh and blood, and he had probably been raised in much the same strict tradition as she. Why he probably would never even think of coming on sexually to his own aunt. But then Fran took another long pull on the glass of vodka and another thought came into her head. This hunk of man standing in front of her was no infant, despite her memories of him as such. He was a grown man and no doubt had very natural desires and functions as every man should. And he was an actor. Fran had no real idea whether her nephew was successful or not, but the fact alone that he was in show business meant that he surely knew what it was like to be appreciated for his looks alone.
Fran struggled to recover her sense of decorum.
"Well, Peter, you certainly look like a Californian." She handed him a cocktail. "We'll have you used to the Big Apple in no time."
He smiled. Goodness, Fran thought, were his teeth ever white. They couldn't possibly be real!
"I'll need all the lessons in being sophisticated you can give me, Aunt Fran. I hear lifestyles are a lot different here in old New York."
Fran made some comment about things being a little more formal, but that she didn't think Peter would have any trouble at all with the transition.
"And for goodness sake, stop this 'Aunt Fran' business, won't you? It makes me sound so old."
Peter raised his cocktail and promised.
"You New York women certainly are different. I got off the plane just a couple of hours ago and immediately noticed the difference. I think it may have something to do with the fact that you women here are so independent and always on the go and everything. You're so much more business-like. In California a lot of the women I know can spend all their time on the beach or on their ranches, but you types are always out meeting people or doing things or whatever and you set such high standards of beauty for yourselves."
He raised his glass again.
"You meet those standards, too, you know."
Fran laughed; but she was genuinely flattered that Peter was telling her these things. It was good to know that he regarded their relationship as a one-to-one adult affair and not in the childish aunt-nephew vein. Fran was becoming very taken with this articulate young fellow, and why not? For here was a man who told her nice things about herself and didn't seem to condescend to her or to ignore her. And despite all her efforts to keep this discussion on a philosophical plane, despite all her realization that any attraction she might evince for this man was strictly taboo, still the feeling never left her that
Peter was doing something else to her, something very basic and biological. She was flowing like she had never flowed before, that is, unless she had spent an hour or so fingering herself. She couldn't believe it! She was worried about the smell, and Peter becoming aware of what was going on inside her body. She remembered when he was born, and she knew damn well that it wasn't yesterday. She talked about this and about that, all the while embarrassed that her cunt was running away with her. How much longer was she going to be able to keep this up, before some unseen, uncontrollable lust-power simply took over and ordered her to attack this man seated on the other side of her kitchen table? Fran crossed and recrossed her legs. She shifted in her chair, and she actually squirmed in an effort to stop the burning that spread into every area below her waist.
"And of course I can't wait to meet Laura," Peter was saying. "I haven't seen her since she was still riding around in a baby carriage."
And what was this guy going to do to Laura if he turned her own cunt into a Mississippi of pussy juice, Fran thought. If Laura was any kind of virgin at all, that stage of her life would have long since passed by the time Peter Wilde left their house. On the other hand, a crazed part of her mind was plotting even now how to keep Peter Wilde all to herself. And at the same time, all the while, this beautiful nephew was melting all the bitterness that she had built up toward that segment of the human species known as men.
He was so kind, so considerate, so intelligent. Fran imagined what kind of lover he must be, powerful, of course, but tender and gentle at the same time. Then something shocked her ever so slightly. Nothing really, she struggled to convince herself, but nevertheless a couple of small nagging details intruded on her vodka-dimmed consciousness. Peter had pierced ears, Fran noticed, even though he wasn't wearing earrings at the moment. And something else, a single fingernail on his right hand was long, incredibly long, much longer even than a woman's manicured, polished nail. Fran wasn't born yesterday, either, and she had discovered quite a bit during that last tumultuous year of living with Owen. She had seen a number of her husband's young boyfriends, for example, and she knew that a great number of them affected things like pierced ears, and necklaces and bracelets. And that long fingernail? Fran knew that not everyone could afford a sterling silver spoon for his cocaine.
Damn, she thought as she poured her third glass of vodka, did she have another faggot in her house? Was this member of her own family going to be bringing home and seducing young boys and was she going to be meeting all his lovers at the breakfast table? Not possible, she thought, he would never do anything like that. Peter would be a real conservative Wilde type about this whole thing. He would never let her catch on. At least he would try. He would do all his screwing in bath houses or bars or over in that notorious truck parking lot beneath the West Side Highway that he would discover soon enough.
Fran glanced at the clock. This time yesterday she was writhing on her bed in vibrator ecstasy. Her pussy ached now. She knew damn will where she wanted to be. She had a definite idea of what she wanted to feel right now. The feelings of desire deep within her cunt were becoming too much to bear right now.
She looked for a bulge in Peter's blue jeans. She kept her eyes on his crotch every second while at the same time trying not to give herself away. She wanted so much to believe that her first impressions were totally wrong, that this scion of the
Wilde family was a real heterosexual man and not a person who lusted after members of his own sex. She wanted a sign, any sign. She wanted his hard penis inside her cunt right now, both because she was insane for the feeling of total penetration by an erect male organ, but also for the security of knowing that her own flesh and blood had nothing to do with the sexuality that had been exhibited by that rat of a man she had married so many years ago. But there was no evidence forthcoming from Peter right now. There was no telltale bulge of an erect penis behind the blue denim of his tattered jeans. There wasn't even any sign of any arousal of his tiny tender male nipples.
So all Fran could do was sit there and try to control herself and her emotions while she listened to Peter bring her up to date on the family and on his career. She hoped fervently that that was the reason for the ears and the manicure. Peter was an actor and maybe he had to have had his ears pierced to play a certain role! But he didn't mention anything of the sort. It didn't seem from what he said that he had done any kind of pirate movies or drug culture movies. From what he seemed to be telling her, he had acted mainly in legitimate theater productions, plays performed on the stage. Fran was a bit surprised. She really didn't think there was much of that going on in California at all compared with New York. She thought it was mostly movies that provided actors with work in the West, but Peter explained that there was quite a bit of stage work as well, and that it was growing all the time. He had acted a few small parts in movies, though, and hoped to continue that in New York while at the same time achieving more success on the stage.
He seemed like such a warm, wonderful boy. And yet there was that disturbing side to his character. Maybe she was wrong, Fran thought, hoped. But things were becoming blurry now. The vodka was doing its work. Her pussy just wouldn't calm down and yet there was still no sign on the front of Peter's pants. Enough of this foolishness, Fran decided. Be realistic, she told herself. This man, whether homosexual or not, was taboo to her. She should just treat him as the guest he was and not expect anything more, one way or the other. She should finish her drink, serve him something to eat, and if she wanted some sex, she should retire to her bedroom and diddle herself to orgasm with her vibrator. How come she hadn't wanted a man so badly before Peter walked into the house? Goodness knows, she had enough chances to go out and get one. She could do it tonight if she wanted to. She could go down to a heterosexual pickup bar and find a man in no time. From the way she was whistled at on the street she knew she would have no trouble at all if she wanted to do something like that.
But that evening nothing out of the ordinary took place in the big loft apartment where Fran Dickerson lived with her daughter and the new houseguest, Peter Wilde. Laura had come home at the usual time and they had all had a fine dinner together with plenty of conversation. Laura was particularly interested in what Peter had to say because she had long wanted to be an actress and she was eager to learn anything she could from someone who was in show business. All through the meal and after, Fran had looked for some kind of electricity, of recognition between her daughter and her nephew, but again, there was none that she could discern. What an inscrutable guy this nephew was. He was so good-looking, and yet he didn't seem to flaunt his looks at all. Quite the contrary, one could tell nothing at all about him from just watching him, and when he said everything he had to say, Fran ran it all back in her mind and she decided she couldn't tell much about him from that either. So it was with a sense of relief that she crawled into bed, and shot her finger immediately to her pussy. She played with herself long and hard tonight. She worked away at her clitoris with one exquisitely manicured middle finger and stuck three fingers of her other hand as far as she could up into her vagina. She had a lot of making up to do for missing her afternoon jerkoff session. Tonight she lay on her back and frantically masturbated herself to multiple orgasms. All the while unable to escape the thought of how wonderful it would be if there were a real heterosexual dong behind the blue jeans of her seemingly virile young nephew. With horror, but in ecstasy at the same time, she realized that she was becoming fixated on this taboo young man. Was this the same thing as her ex-husband's constant infatuation with member's of his own sex? Was she, Fran Dickerson, existing on the same plane as the one person she had come to regard as the most perverted, callous beast she had ever known? Truthfully a.horror to contemplate, but at the same time Fran could not bring herself to take even one finger away from her firing pussy. How great it was. She was jerking and jerking, working and working, practically flooding the bedclothes with the female liquid pouring torrentially from the depths of her pussy. She was so well lubricated that if Peter came into the room this minute, he could probably slip his whole body right into her pussy. Peter! Peter! The vision of that man just wouldn't go away from her. She was being such a bad girl! She was lusting for a man that was one of her own flesh! She was straining to break the bonds of an age old taboo! Even as she sighed in orgasm with the face of Peter Wilde before her, Fran's strict puritan upbringing decreed that she would be punished for her lust. But she couldn't stop. Punishment she would submit to, but she would never cease with her desires. That was simply no longer possible.
Laura had not taken her vibrator to bed with her this evening. Her cousin Peter was sleeping in the room across the hall from her and she was simply not sure that he wouldn't hear the humming of the little electric motor as the penis-shaped device stimulated her clitoris. But what she didn't dare do with automatic stimulation now, Laura was straining to accomplish manually. And she was succeeding beyond her own expectations. She even had to strain to keep quiet. The sensations shooting through her loins right now inspired her to scream, to shout to the world the ecstasy that she was experiencing. It was so good! like her mother in the room nearby, Laura played one finger back and forth across her young tender clit bud and squirmed and worked against the fingers of her other hand, which she had inserted far, far up into her cunt. Laura had studied music for many years, and she was quite proficient at the piano. Her knowledge and talent held her in good stead right now, as she played herself like a musical instrument. She moved to a rhythm, back and forth in a series of exotic, erotic movements. She had created a hypnotic, primitive dance for herself, and she did it now even as she lay on her back beneath the sheets. Her long, shapely fingers were perfect to stimulate the inside of her vagina. They reached farther inside her, far up toward her womb than all but the most incredibly long masculine genital possibly could reach. But now in the moment of her ecstasy, in her act of achieving once again the height of passion to which she had masturbated herself the previous day, Laura was not concerned with what a male organ might or might not do. For a penis was not her love object. Once again she was enthralled with a vision of her beautiful young friend Pamela. Pamela's face, her tits, her beautifully soft silky snatch hair. Her exquisitely formed buttocks and thighs and lower legs and those long arms in which Laura wanted so much to be held. She had seen Pamela naked twice today and now as she frantically masturbated, Laura relived those moments in her mind and looked forward to the excitement of the coming weekend. How she had almost jumped for joy when Warner Short had told her this afternoon that Pamela and another friend would be joining them in East Hampton on Saturday. Just the four of them would be in the house. His parents had a dinner invitation in a neighboring town, so they would be out for the evening. What a fitting sequel to the excitement of seeing Pamela naked in the locker room after gym class and then again slipping into her tights and leotard at dance class. Laura couldn't wait till Saturday. She was counting the days. If only Warner knew the real reason she was looking forward to the trip now. He'd seemed so pleasantly surprised at the enthusiasm she had exhibited. Poor Warner, if he only knew the truth. But then Warner was never much when it came to intelligence. The only thing that boy had in quantity was money, and of that he had a great deal. While the two women of the house slumbered in their orgiastic fantasies, Peter Wilde lay looking at the ceiling, wondering what the outcome was to be of his attempt at theater in New York City. It was going to be tough, he knew. But he had decided that to be a successful actor he simply had to become known and respected on the New York stage. There were so many things in California that he knew it was time to leave behind-friends, if he wanted to call them that, and certain jobs, of which he was not proud at all. Peter knew desperately that he had to make a fresh start in life, to make a clean breast of things. He was determined to try, and he was grateful to his aunt for assisting him. He really didn't have any money, so it had been really important to find a place to stay until he was on his feet. Already ideas and schemes were forming in his head to take care of that situation.
Peter was restless. He wasn't so tired because of the time zone change between California and New York, so almost unconsciously, to ease the tension and to relax him, he did what came naturally, he slipped a hand to his penis and began to gently stroke the organ. He was a compulsive masturbator. He had been for years. Right now a kaleidoscope of sexual images passed through his mind and inspired him to a monstrous hard-on. He drew it out for a long time. He couldn't bear to shoot his wad right away when he had the time.
CHAPTER THREE
Laura had been raised in the most comfortable circumstances. She knew that her father had plenty of money and she remembered the servants around the house when she was little and a lot of other amenities reserved for those of sufficient means, and since she went to one of the best private schools in New York City, she certainly came into contact with a large number of other young people who were quite rich. But Warner Short's family's summer house was something that impressed Laura despite all she had seen before. The place was situated in one of the most exclusive towns in the ritzy resort area of Eastern Long Island, where all sorts of famous people spent time secluded from all the hustle and bustle of New York City and other places like Washington, D.C. The Shorts' had a picture book style mansion that bordered a golf course on one side and on the other, a way off in the distance, there was another mansion that Laura was told belonged to a family from which a recent First Lady of the United States had come.
Laura and Warner had driven out from New York in his own Mercedes sportscar on Friday evening. It had been pleasant enough, Laura considered, if anything she did with Warner could be considered pleasant. She had been sort of intrigued with him a few weeks ago when she first got to know him a bit better. That he was a bit overweight was not the real problem, but it did serve to accent the fact that he was horribly conceited. As she had found out, nothing ever met the standards that Warner set, except himself, of course. She felt that he was starting to take her for granted now that she had accepted his invitation and that she had spent a bit of her time with him. And she resented it a whole lot. Warner, she thought, was the kind of person who would just love to own clothes with their labels on the outside, so he could show everyone just how expensive his things were. At least this "country place" was big enough so that she could get away from him for a few moments now and then. She had pleaded a headache not too long after dinner on Friday evening and she had gone up to her room. She hadn't had a headache at all. She'd just wanted to get away from Warner and his horribly stuck-up mother and father. Even their family dog irritated Laura. And there was another reason she wanted to get upstairs and under the covers. She had brought her vibrator along on this trip. Not only had she decided she couldn't leave something like a vibrator lying around the apartment because her mother might discover it, but she wanted to fantasize, to prepare herself for Pamela's arrival the next morning. How she longed to tell that beautiful young girl of her love for her! How she wanted for her and Pamela to have this whole wonderful country mansion to themselves for the entire weekend and have Warner and that other guy who was bringing Pamela out from the city simply disappear into thin air!
Laura closed the door of her spacious bedroom with its private bath and padded softly over to her bed. It was like something out of a movie. The bed had a huge canopy and a matching dressing table and armchair stood nearby. There was also a large mirror in the bedroom itself and Laura found that she could sit in the big comfortable easy chair and look at almost every bit of herself. She pushed it away just a bit farther and then an obscene idea swept through her head. Slowly she began to undress, first unbuttoning her blouse. She had worn her best clothes for this occasion. Not to show off to Warner, of course, but because she knew that Pamela was going to be here and she wanted to look her best. She let her only silk blouse fall to the floor, leaving her sheerest bra. Laura was developing rather prominent breasts for her age. She had once overheard some of the other girls in her class talking about her tits, and saying how much they envied her. She gazed at herself in the mirror, and fancied that underneath the restraint of the brassiere her tits were firm and erect. Laura reached around to undo the clasp that held the bra, but as she did so she listened carefully for any noise from downstairs. The last thing she wanted was for that rude, conceited Warner to burst in under the pretext of concern for her health and find her playing with herself. When she was satisfied that there was no noise on the stairs, Laura proceeded with the next step. She exposed her firm young breasts to the reflecting surface of the mirror. She liked what she saw. A few days ago she had bought a copy of one of those men's "girlie" magazines to check out the pictures of the women and she had taken to comparing her own body with some of the pictures inside. To her surprise, she thought her body measured up pretty well in comparison to the centerfold girl. Of course, she was a bit younger and still had a way to go in the development process, but she was proud of herself. She knew she had a face like her father, but she decided that her build and her bone structure more closely resembled that of her mother. A pity, Laura thought, that she had not seen her mother naked more often. She was sure her mom had quite a nice body, real nice in fact, and she couldn't quite understand why she didn't do a little more about showing it off. Come to think of it, her mother didn't seem to have much of a sex life at all. Laura didn't even have much of an idea about which way her mother swung, male partners or female. Mother never seemed to have any lovers around at all, actually. Which was too bad, Laura thought, her mother was such an attractive woman, and young too. She wondered now just how much like her mother's breasts her own up-thrust tits were. She examined them carefully, and ever so gently she tweaked her tender young nipples. The sensations shot from the firm young buds right through her breasts and on into the farthest reaches of her body. Laura knew that she was awakening to still another part of her female sensuality. She wondered if Pamela was aware of such delights and she longed so very much to introduce her friend to this pleasure and others that she had discovered over the past few weeks. She almost couldn't stop diddling with her nipples except that she knew far greater delights remained to be explored right this minute. She sat there looking at herself. She was totally naked from the waist up, except for a golden choker, a thin little strand of wire that encircled her neck. Now she knew there was no turning back on the session of self-love that she had planned for tonight. She had been looking forward to this moment since the ride in the car this afternoon, plotting how to get away from the Short family and exactly how she was going to make love to herself once she managed to get alone. But she didn't want to be alone. She wanted to be with her beloved friend. So now there was only one thing to do. If Pamela could not be with her in person tonight she would simply pretend that she was. She was going to make love to her friend even as she made love to herself.
Slowly Laura unzipped the front of her slacks. She realized even as she did so that she was soaking wet between her legs. At first she thought that was perspiration from the heat and being so excited. Then she realized that this wasn't sweat at all, that her panties were already soaked with the liquid that she had stimulated from her vagina with her fingers a few days before. This was the scented liquid that made it possible for her vagina to be penetrated. And tonight she was indeed going to insert something inside herself. She got up and let her slacks fall to the floor. She walked over to where the butler had set down her overnight bag and she pulled out her precious vibrator. She turned it on and it sprang to life, the little electric motor humming in anticipation that it would soon be driving the ribbed, penis-shaped head against the walls of pink flesh that lined her cunt. Funny, Laura thought, most girls could say that they had been deflowered by some guy, but she had to admit that she had lost her virginity to this crazed, whirling dervish made of plastic and propelled by two "D" size batteries. She had heard somewhere that one's first love was always considered the most precious, and as she held her automatic friend up in front of the mirror she decided that she was ready to agree. She knew exactly what to expect from this little guy, and she knew also that whenever he disappointed her she could simply go out and change his batteries. Which was more than most girls could say for their precious lovers. She was back in the chair now; she was naked and her legs were raised up so that she could see her pussy plain as day in the mirror. She knew she was going to love this. She wasn't going to have to put hand cream or anything on the tip of the vibrator. She was so wet that it was going to slide right in up to the hilt. Laura thought for a second that she could even smell herself. Yes! She put a wet finger to her nose, then to her mouth and she sucked it. That was the scent that was filling up the whole room right now!
She sighed as the vibrator penetrated. She pretended that it was Pamela's wriggling fingers that were piercing the tender lips of her pussy. The little vibrations, artificial though they were, felt so good. Laura was so sure that Pam's fingers would feel the same way. She had watched Pamela's hands all during art class yesterday and she had positively fallen in love with them. Long and slender, Pam's fingers were carefully manicured and neatly polished in a deep pink color that was featured in all the beauty magazines right now. Laura planned to do her own nails just like that soon, but it just wouldn't be the same. Nothing would be like Pam running her shapely hands over her nipples and thighs and inserting her fingertips into her pussy.
The next morning Laura sat silently through breakfast. Mrs. Short asked her if she felt all right. Laura said that she did, and physically she was telling the truth. What disturbed her was what had gone on in her room the night before. Laura was beginning to wonder if there wasn't something seriously wrong with her. She had masturbated for what seemed like hours, sitting there naked on the chair, fingering herself, plunging her vibrator in and out of her slathering pussy, totally consumed with lewd images of her best girlfriend dancing in front of her face. And now she was disturbed that she was lapsing into a lasting sleep of total, unmitigated lesbianism. Fifteen years old, she wailed, and already a confirmed bulldyke! Not that anyone could tell just by looking at her. She dressed and talked and ate the same foods and was concerned about many of the same things as any girl her age. But it was something inside of her that seemed almost to eat at her. It seemed that every time she thought of Pamela she could feel her pussy start to get wet. Every time she saw a picture of an attractive girl in some magazine, she felt the same way-how much she would like to hold that girl in her arms and feel her body, her genitals, and sleep curled up in her arms.
What frustrated her was that she dared tell no one. Laura knew that all the girls at school were totally consumed with sex, but it was all hetero. Not one of them would admit to having that special tender loving feeling for a member of her own sex. and her mother? Why she wouldn't dare confide such a thing to her mother. She had enough trouble with homosexuality as it was. Laura knew, though it had never been told her, that her father's homosexual behavior had been a major reason for her parents' divorce. And Laura knew that it had been an especially unpleasant separation and that her mother had a whole lot of trouble collecting alimony and support payments from Owen. Laura never liked Owen much anyway. And she didn't very much like visiting her father at all.
She drained her coffee cup and smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Short. She assured them that she felt absolutely perfect this morning and that the night's sleep with the salt air blowing in from the ocean had been one of the best that she had ever had. It had indeed been a good night's sleep. Laura had several erotic dreams in which Pamela had appeared and she had awakened with a dripping pussy and even before getting out of bed she had masturbated herself to orgasm.
And she had awakened knowing that today was the day that she would get to see her beloved Pamela in person. Already she had plotted how to get to see her friend in the nude. Maybe they could change into their bathing suits together. Still another vision of Pam's naked body intruded on the confusion which swirled around in Laura's mind. And somehow the major question in her life posed itself right now at the Short's breakfast table; would she, could she, should she tell Pamela of the love that she felt for her?
Warner, of course, wasn't to be seen during the whole time that Laura was at breakfast. He had decided that it would be nice to take a sail around the cove while they waited for Pam and her friend to arrive from New York. Naturally, he hadn't bothered to ask Laura what she wanted to do. He had just gone ahead to get the boat ready while she ate breakfast. Actually, Laura wasn't all that angry with the boy. She couldn't think of any better way to spend the time until they had to go down to the railroad station and she knew it would be impossible to masturbate any longer. For one thing it would be impossible to sequester herself in the room again. And she was so sore from the night's diddling with herself that she knew she would have to lay off for a little while if she didn't want to hurt herself.
So shortly after breakfast she found herself sailing about the bay in front of the Short's house, alone with Warner in his little boat. He sat in the stern, his face was the picture of contentment as he held the tiller in one hand and worked the rope leads from the boom with his other hand. Laura felt it was her duty to compliment him on his sailing ability and to remark on what a beautiful day it was. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sharp breeze propelled them at a good clip over the little wavelets in this part of the bay.
Finally Warner seemed to wake up.
"I brought you out her, Laura baby, because I thought you might enjoy a little treat I have in store for you."
Laura was shocked. No one had ever spoken to her in that way in her life and she had no idea what Warner was talking about. He had such a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. She didn't know what he was planning to do with her. Did he want to have sex? She was beginning to wish that she wasn't out in the boat with him. There was no place to run.
Warner reached under the stern seat and pulled out a waterproof bag. Out of that he fished a still smaller bag, and out of that he came up with a cigarette. It was hand-rolled and Laura knew immediately that it was marijuana. It just had to be. And it occurred to her right away that the grass accounted for Warren's sleepy look. So he had been smoking it the whole time while she had been eating breakfast! And now he wanted her to get high. Why? Warner usually wasn't so generous with his treats. It could only mean one thing, Laura knew, he wanted to get her in such a state that she would be easy to fuck. This little rich bastard wanted to have his own way, to be in total control of her body. He wanted to dictate the terms upon which she would be forced to have what passed for enjoyment.
In no time Laura was filled with more disgust for Warner Short than she had ever known. Just let that cocksucker lay a hand on her and he would find himself over the side.
Then Laura realized that she didn't have so many options in this situation. Far be it from her to dictate terms to this overweight lecherous young man in his own sailboat. She would have to find another means of handling the situation. But what could she possibly do?
Warner had been having some trouble lighting the reefer in the breeze, but he finally got it going and took a long, deep toke of the smoke. He held his breath until it appeared he was going to burst and then he exhaled and handed Laura the lighted cigarette.
Laura had tasted marijuana a couple of times at parties but she had never really gotten high. She just never had an opportunity to smoke so much before. But now she wasn't sure that she wanted to, because she was so convinced that Warner had something in mind for her body. A kind of panic swept through her now, more severe than anything she had experienced up to now. How could she refuse Warner without making him terribly angry. She had heard stories about how violent Warner got when something got him mad. And she was scared to death that his being stoned on grass and angry at the same time just might be enough to drive him to do something bizarrely insane. And there were other things; how could Warner know that she had never given herself to the penetration of a man's penis, and that she hadn't yet decided if she wanted to? How could Warner know about her special feeling for Pamela? Yes, Laura thought, she wanted very much in spite of herself, in spite of the constraints that she knew militated against the love of one woman for another, she desperately wanted to tell Pamela of the love that she felt for her, and even reserved for her friend the gift of that first sexual intimacy.
Laura took the glowing marijuana cigarette in her hand now. How could she refuse? She took a long, deep pull of the stinging smoke and she held it in her lungs as long as she was able. She was that Warner was smiling now, and that he had moved a little closer to her. She knew that there could be only one thing on that boy's mind. She started to hand the smoking reefer back to him.
"Go ahead," Warner said. "Have another toke. There's plenty more where that came from."
Laura took another turn on the reefer. Still another. Suddenly she became aware of things that she hadn't noticed before. The waves lapping against the underside of the little boat sounded like crashing thunder and the breeze that propelled them across the bay sounded like a raging hurricane. The day was even more beautiful than when they had started out from the Short's dock, and that seemed like hours ago. Laura had felt something like this when she smoked marijuana before, but it had never affected her nearly so much. She knew that she was getting high now, and that there was no turning back from it. In fact, she knew that she didn't want to turn back. The dope effect was relaxing her. For the first time this weekend she was able to put Warner's distasteful personality out of her mind and just concentrate on the natural beauty which surrounded them. Warner sat next to her now, but in one way she didn't think he was in the boat at all. She just rocked back and forth with the motion of the little sailboat and she felt that everything was getting blurry, everything was fading into unimportance except for the joy of her own relaxation.
Then a new sensation made its effect felt upon her consciousness. Laura realized in her doped up haze that her pussy was getting very wet. She could feel it running like it had never flowed before. Never it seemed, in all her masturbation sessions, had she stirred up this much liquid from her own cunt even with the most sustained fingering. She was convinced that she was going to leave a puddle of her pussy juice on the seat. And there was something more. She wasn't oozing all this lubrication for no reason at all. Laura knew now that her young tight cunt desperately desired the satisfaction of penetration. Not only desired! Her cunt screamed to be fucked. And the lustful craving was beginning to spread all through her, from between her legs all through her thighs and around to the cheeks of her ass and from there up along her back and around to the pit of her stomach and her breasts. She felt her nipples harden beneath her sailing parka. Her lips longed to kiss, to suck, to lick, to eat. For the first time in her life Laura's body had taken complete control, had imposed upon her the sensation of total desire. How she wanted to put her hand inside her pants right now! She wasn't sure that fingers would be nearly enough, so great was the desire she felt for sexual satisfaction. She had left her vibrator hidden in her suitcase, but Laura wasn't quite convinced that even that auto stimulator could really satisfy this hunger.
Then she felt Warner's hand on her knee. She gasped, but she made no move to squirm away from him. She was in such a state that she just had to be touched, if not by herself then by someone else, by something. Warner's face was next to hers now, and she felt his tongue dart out to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. The next thing she knew his tongue was fighting its way into her mouth. She had no desire to resist. Her own lips made the decision for her. She sucked and bit at the tongue Warner had offered to her. And when his arms reached around to clasp her she submitted, rather her sexual appetites submitted for her. Laura was helpless. She saw this boy that she despised no longer as a brute, but as an object, a kind of machine who existed to answer to her cravings for sex. She nestled deeper into his embrace. Her own tongue answered the thrusts of his and fought to gain its own entry deep into his mouth. They were practically eating at one another.
Involuntary jerks rose from Laura's loins, motions in her pelvis that she was helpless to control. One spasm after another and she knew she was signaling Warner that it was time for her female longings to be fulfilled. The brute of a boy must have known from experience. His hand was ready to spring to the zipper of her parka and in no time at all he had her jacket off and her blouse unbuttoned. Laura wasn't wearing a bra. Warner's eyes popped when he saw the unspoiled beauty of her up-thrust tits. He recognized right away that she was aroused to a great extent already, that the little buds of her nipples were erect. He took each between a thumb and forefinger and stimulated them even more. Laura sighed and offered herself to his touch. Her tits ached to be fondled and she just couldn't get enough. She squirmed on the seat. Her panties were soaked. She was afraid that wet stains might show on her blue jeans at any moment.
Warner nipped at her tits with his tongue now, lolling the pink buds around and around, using them to transmit the intent of his own actions. Laura knew that he could mean only one thing. Warner wanted to penetrate her pussy with his erect penis. And she knew that in turn, in her marijuana inspired daze, that her pussy hungered for penetration. She watched for a telltale bulge in his pants. It was there, a mountain growing between his legs.
He was whispering things to her now, telling her how beautiful she was and how much he had admired her and wanted her from the moment that they had met. And he even mentioned that he loved her. Laura thought tack to the centerfold girl again. She knew how that she was truly as beautiful as that woman, and that she deserved the same kinds of attentions. She wondered if Warner would masturbate in his room over her own picture. She wondered if Warner had sex fantasies about her. He was unzipping the fly of her jeans now. In one more second he would see how wet she was. He would see how well lubricated she was and he would ram his lust-hardened rod all the way up into her tight unfucked vagina.
He was moaning now about how much he wanted to possess her. Then he began to pull down her pants. Her breasts were exposed to the breeze already. Laura now felt the salty air come in contact with her wet pussy as Warner slipped her jeans down to her knees. Then he tore off her panties, hardly noticing that they were soaked with love juices. Warner was panting now, and she knew that he was going to go through with his violation of her. Violation! The word somehow broke through the drug haze surrounding Laura's consciousness. That's what this uncouth brute was about to do to her! He was playing upon her uncontrollable female desires. There was no love in this! Warner was incapable of seeing beauty in anyone else. He only wanted to cum, to get off because his balls were probably filled to the bursting point with hot sperm, and he just wanted to be able to say that he had fucked the best looking girl in the class.
Laura squirmed as she felt his hand spread aside her wispy pubic bush. This bastard's pudgy fingers were going to fondle her clitoris! This fool's penis was going to ram into her precious, private cunt! She was dazed, and she was unresisting, but she had to ask herself the question. Did she want to have sex with Warner Short? Did she want to become just another one of his possessions? To be regarded by him just like his car or his boat or his expensive clothes, for she knew that was the way it would be with Warner. He was totally incapable of treating her differently.
What difference did it make? What was so bad about being fucked by this ass-hole as long as she got off too? Hadn't she masturbated enough to take orgasms just for the pleasure they gave her? Hadn't she practically worn out the batteries of her new vibrator finding that out? What was her body for, anyway? What good were her genitals if they didn't serve her at every opportunity? What did it matter where the exact source of pleasure was as long as she got off?
Warner was rubbing his hands back and forth over her pubic mound. She watched him. She was barely able to focus her eyes, so clouded was her mind with lust and the confusion that swirled through her brain. Her clitoris demanded to be fondled. She wanted to put her own hand to it right now, to finger herself to orgasm. Damn, she knew where her clit was. Why didn't Warner seem to be able to find it? He was just sitting there like some kind of animal, sighing and moaning, and rubbing his hand back and forth. He wasn't even being gentle about it, the stupid goon. What was she supposed to do? Give the man some directions?
What a fumbler this boy was. So typical that this selfish beast would have no idea how to give pleasure to anyone else. Laura thought she was going to burst into tears, both from her anger at the way she was being treated and from the fact that every bit of her excruciating desire was going unsatisfied. Here she was high with the anticipation that she was going to have enough orgasms to put her away for a week, and all she could look forward to was barrenness. She had more satisfaction from any time she had masturbated than this little interlude with Warner promised. That fool probably wouldn't know what to do with a vagina if it were staring his right in the face. He didn't seem to be able to figure out the slightest means of giving pleasure to her. He might as well be locked in his room right now jerking off over some pornographic pictures. She might well have better stayed in bed and spent the morning with her vibrator.
Pamela would know. If only Pamela were here in the boat with her! Laura longed for her friend. She was a young woman and she would know her body and what had to be done to all the different parts in order to incite and excite pleasure. She would be able to return the pleasure. Her arrival seemed so far off. This encounter with Warner was such a hurdle for her to overcome before the excitement and gratification of being with her true love. If she could only somehow summon the courage to confess her love to Pamela this evening. And wouldn't it be the most wonderful thing in the world if her friend responded in kind! But would she be taken before she had that opportunity to give herself to Pamela? Was this incompetent, selfish ass-hole going to be the first person to penetrate her pussy? She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit
Warner and order him to take her back to shore and all the way back to New York. If only she had thought to stuff a sanitary tampon into her cunt before they came out here to sail. She should have known what he would try to do. Maybe she wasn't so bright herself? Maybe she wasn't worthy of Pam's love?
Warner was taking off his pants now and shifting his position on the seat. Laura couldn't push him away. She was paralyzed. Every muscle in her body clenched. Her pussy fought against the involuntary relaxation that the marijuana had provided. It would never fit! She had never seen a man's naked dong before and she just knew that this huge pole sticking straight out from Warner's red pubic bush was simply too big to fit into her clenched pussy. Fear ran rampant through her mind. This was rape that this boy was planning! He was planning! He was going to kill her with that rod-weapon of his. But where could she go? What could she do? She wanted to scream but the words wouldn't come. Her arms shot out to protect her. She cowered on the seat in front of the advancing Warner.
"Don't worry, honey. I'm not going to hurt you. It's going to feel real good. Just wait and see. Don't fight it."
Suddenly a wild look came over Warner's face. He seemed like a crazed animal. He seemed as though he were in some kind of terrible pain. His eyes no longer focused on anything. He stared off into space. Then he moaned. His pelvis jerked back and forth. Laura suddenly realized what was happening. The first blast of white-hot sperm shot from the tip of Warner's extended penis and hit the canvas sail. Another shot of cum hit the mahogany seat and still more landed on one of the lifejackets. Warner had lost all control. He sank moaning to the deck, sticky whie sperm dribbling down his hairy thighs, his penis rapidly deflating.
Laura watched. Warner got what he deserved in this premature ejaculation, she decided. It was just like him not to be able to control himself once he had set his mind on attaining a certain pleasure. Well he had really blown it this time. He certainly was one sorry sight, panting and puffing in the puddle of his own cum. Laura wondered what he was going to do to save face on this one. She was almost sure that Warner Short would come up with something. But right now it was her turn to have a little satisfaction. She pulled up her pants and buttoned her blouse. The feeling in her pussy was still there, but she knew she would have to wait for satisfaction. She would have to masturbate when she got back to shore, maybe sneak up to the bedroom for a quickie with the vibrator. How she wished that this whole sorry mess had never occurred, that she had never been invited here to East Hampton in the first place. She had only been excited by the trip when she heard that Pam was coming. But her friend was coming with a boy too, and if that guy was a pal of Warner's he probably wasn't such a great shakes either. If only she and Pam would be able to spend the evening and the night alone together. If only the boys would just disappear into thin air.
Warner finally got himself together after he had drifted for some minutes. If he was embarrassed at what had happened, he was doing a pretty fair job of hiding it. He pulled his pants up, hauled in the sail lines and turned the tiller for shore. He mentioned that it was time to go into town and meet the train. Thank goodness, Laura thought. She wanted nothing better than to get out of the boat. Warner hadn't even made a motion to clean up the puddles of sperm that glistened on the mahogany seats.
The boy changed his tune just a little on the way into town. Laura didn't know exactly why he was being so kind all of a sudden, but she imagined it had something to do with his not wanting to let it get out that he was something of a failure in his at-tempts at cocksmanship and that he suspected she just might pass the word. So he was overly polite and considerate to Laura, doing all sorts of little things that would be thought natural with any other man, but seemed a little ridiculous where Warner was concerned. Laura could not believe that Warner had ever opened a door for anyone in his life before. Obviously he was trying to make amends for the incident in the boat. No doubt he felt it was a threat to his masculinity, but he just couldn't bring himself to say anything like an apology. Figuring that his money could bail him out of this situation like he'd probably bought himself out of every other tight spot he'd been caught in, he purchased a silk scarf in one of the downtown shops and presented it to Laura as a gift. She had mentioned in passing what nice things were displayed in the shop window and immediately Warner had stormed into the place and come out with the gift. She was too embarrassed not to accept it. She was beginning to realize that Warner was probably so insensitive to the world and people around him that he didn't know when he was being cruel or rude. That did a little to calm her anger at being taken advantage of out there in the boat. Laura was sobering up now from all that marijuana she'd smoked and things began to return to a more normal perspective. And she knew that she wasn't going to do anything like get on the next train to New York and leave Warner cold. She was going to make the best of the situation. Besides, she glanced at a cock in a jewelry shop they passed, in a few moments her beloved friends would be arriving. Maybe the two of them could at least have a few moments alone together this weekend.
So Laura found herself thanking Warner for the scarf as they drove on to the railroad station and neither of them said a word more about the morning's episode.
The train was a little late, but it wasn't too long before Laura heard the locomotive whistle far off in the west. Her heart began to beat quickly in anticipation. If Pamela only knew how much she looked forward to her arrival! She was practically exploding as the long line of gray cars clanked into the station behind the noisy locomotive. The earth seemed to shake and Laura suddenly realized that she was once more moist between her legs. So it had started all over again! Was it Pamela who was doing this to her even before she saw her in person? She had gone up to her room for a short time after coming back from sailing and she had fingered herself to orgasm and washed her pussy as well as she could. For some reason she had wanted to be fresh and lovely below her waist especially for Pam's arrival.
A great number of people were getting off the train, and Laura watched eagerly for the sight of her friend. For a second she thought Pam might have missed the train, but just as the anxiety was about to get the better of her, the most beautiful girl in the world stepped out of the train. Laura jumped up and shouted. Pamela looked around, saw her and waved. There was a boy with her carrying her bag, but Laura paid no attention to him. Her eyes were enthralled by the sight of her girl friend.
Then Laura experienced a special treat. Pam put her arms around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Most people wouldn't have thought anything of the gesture, but Laura was in heaven! The taste, however brief, of her friend's lips, the sensation of strength radiating from her arms, the sweet scent of the perfume she was wearing, all this nearly knocked Laura off her feet. Her pussy was running wild with juice. Yes, Laura knew, the sight of her friend was inspiring this physical reaction in her genitals. There was no denying now, she was in love with this woman. If only she could tell her! She had to tell her! Even if Laura was never to know the physical charms of the girl that was her love object. Even if Pam had no sexual attraction for an adoring member of her own sex, Laura would have to make known her love for her.
The four of them got into Warner's Mercedes for the ride back to the Short's house and lunch. The leather upholstery of the car's interior had been exposed to the sun and it had become extremely warm. When Laura sat down and the hot leather reacted against her impassioned pussy she thought she was going to cum without even touching herself. And there was Pam sitting right next to her in the back seat. She used the ride for one purpose, to check out every inch of the girl with her, to feast her eyes on everyone of Pamela's many physical attractions. Laura was enthralled, and she was convinced that she would leave a puddle of pussy juice on the seat when she got up. If only that girl would reach her hand over to Laura, unzip her pants, and relieve the unbearable pressure that was building between her legs! Just the thought of that made the pain all the more excruciating.
Pamela came from a very upper class background and good taste had been instilled in her at a very early age. What Laura saw now was the result of Pam's breeding and her constant attention to her grooming and dress. If anything, Pam was a little too sophisticated for her own age and that was one of the facets of her appearance that excited Laura so much. Laura could simply do nothing else now but stare at this girl, and she tried just not to be too obvious about it. She started with the tips of Pam's toes, which had been carefully pedicured and polished in pale pink. And she was wearing such high heeled sandals that Laura almost couldn't believe. Of course, she had seen such sexy shoes in beauty magazines, but it was hard to imagine that one of her own friends would actually wear them, along with a pair of peg-leg, ultra close fitting French blue jeans. Those pants looked more like tights than anything else, Laura thought, and she tried to picture the contour of Pam's pussy beneath the tightly stretched blue denim. But that wasn't all! Above her incredibly narrow waist, Pam was clad in the softest silk shirt that Laura had ever seen, a kind of peach color that seemed so innocently sensual and let the outlines of her breasts be known at the same time. How Laura wanted to reach inside that shirt and feel for the nipples of her friend's tits. In no time she would have them erect and sensations of pleasure would be shooting out to every part of Pam's body. Yes, she would introduce this girl to pleasures that she had recently discovered herself. There would be no fumbling or bungling. Laura knew what felt good, she had experienced the utter bliss of the female orgasm. She knew where the clitoris was and what to do with a vagina. If Pam would only let her, she would share with her these wondrous discoveries.
"Do you like my hair?" Pam asked. "I had it done yesterday just for the weekend."
Laura was ashamed that she hadn't complimented Pam on the coiffure already. It was so flattering to her friend's face and so stylish at the same time. She took this opportunity to run her fingers through the blonde curls of Pam's hair. A chill followed the act, a chill which spread from the small of Laura's back down to her over-stimulated genitals and at the same time up through her breasts to her nipples. She felt the tips of her tits leap to erectness, and strain against her blouse. The kiss, the embrace, the touch of her girl friend had all contributed to the strange way that Laura felt at this moment. It seemed almost as if the marijuana haze was returning. She was feeling lightheaded and aroused, and everything was beginning to blur in front of her eyes except for the image of her beloved.
And Pam certainly seemed glad to see her. They talked and laughed and joked and seemed to develop even more of a rapport than they usually had at school and in dance class. Laura was particularly gratified that her lover enjoyed her company so much. When the boy that had come out from New York had carried her bag up to Pam's room and had not come out right away, Laura had experienced a pang of jealousy. Pam might not know of her love for her, but she was still somehow hurt inside to think that Pam could possibly be interested in anyone else. The lunch was served outside on the veranda by the Short's maid and consisted of cold lobster and different kinds of salads. The food was utterly delicious and the midday sun shone brilliantly on the lawn and bay in front of them. With Pam by her side, Laura's attitude toward the whole visit had taken a turn for the better. Even the jealousy subsided when she heard that the two boys were planning some sort of escapade with the Short's speedboat and she and Pam didn't seem to be invited.
"We can sun ourselves on the beach, while you two go off and get yourselves killed," Pam announced.
Laura perked up at her friend's words. Now she really had something to look forward to this afternoon, Pam in a bathing suit and the chance to spend some time alone with her. She knew now it had been worth putting up with Warner and his half-assed behavior because she was going to come into her reward this afternoon. And what about tonight? Would she find some time, would she possibly dare confide in Pamela of her love for her, that same-sex love that did not dare speak its name. That was the burning question on Laura's mind as they finished lunch and went upstairs to change into their bathing suits for the afternoon. The two girls had fun running around the palatial upstairs of the Short's house teasing each other, calling to each other from opposite ends of the house, pretending they were the mistresses of such an establishment with a myriad of servants. They ran and laughed and giggled and only when Warner shouted from a floor below did they realize that they had been dawdling.
"Quick, Laura, help me with my bathing suit," Pamela implored.
She rushed into the hall, into Laura's line of sight. She was in a hurry, and she was naked from the waist up. Her snatch was hidden by her bathing suit bikini panties, but her bikini top needed to be tied in a bow at the back of the neck and since she was in a hurry she needed assistance. Laura nearly gasped at the sight of her friend's naked nipples, but through sheer willpower she managed to maintain her sense of decorum. No, she told herself, she would not fly off the handle and stroke Pam's breasts or even worse, bend down and begin to suck on them. Instead, in a friendly, considerate, loving way, she assisted Pam with the dangling ends of ribbon that reached from the titcups of her top and had to be laced up to safeguard her modesty. She did so deliberately and with great regard for the results, for she wanted Pam to look luscious, and she wanted to keep her hands on her for as long as possible. Her pussy was intruding again, she knew. The juice was seeping once more, filling the crotch of her own bikini panties, and Laura knew that there would be absolutely no stemming it this time, not with Pam in her presence. It was too much now. She would just have to cum before the hour was out. By her own fingers, by sneaking away to the company of her vibrator, if only by Pam's tongue or fingers, Laura might even be persuaded to settle for crude stimulation by Warner, so great was the hunger, the pounding deep within her.
She had been a wicked girl, she knew. She had flaunted herself now in front of her friend. She had lurked in her own room just waiting for Pam's call to assist her and though she had plenty of time to slip into her own two-piece bathing suit, she had pulled on only the bikini panties, and even then she had not pulled them up all the way, so that a bit of her pubic bush showed, overflowed at the top. She had calculated this move, she wanted to show off her own charms to the woman she so desperately wanted to be her real true lover. And she had watched as closely as she could for Pamela's reaction. And Laura knew that her friend had noticed. She knew that however briefly, however furtively, her love-object had checked out her own physical attributes. And she knew that she was offering Pamela some prime female meat. Yes, along with the most tender passionate love that grew in her heart, there were also unstoppable, driving physical needs that just had to be met. She had discovered them so recently but already she knew that they were universal and that Pam possessed them as well and that she, Laura, was the one in the world best equipped to satisfy Pam's intense sexual desires. How she knew they existed deep within her friend's female psyche, and even if they had not actually surfaced as yet, she was in a position to plumb them and fulfill them to an extent that Laura had probably not even dreamed possible.
So it was with the satisfaction of having made a beginning, however slight, of having shown herself naked in her state of desire, that Laura now joined her beloved Pam in running down to where the two boys waited for them. Laura suffered some group activities gladly, for her love-object was never more than a few feet from her own body, and she could anticipate what would happen later. She even managed to hold in check her feelings of hostility toward Bob, the boy that accompanied Pam out from the city. She really didn't know the guy at all and she couldn't even remember Pam mentioning him once. Anyway, this Bob seemed to be more interested in talking about boats and cars with Warner than he was in paying attention to Pam. Laura waited for what she knew would be her turn. Her only concern during this period was her pussy. She knew that her bikini panties were flimsy, and she worried again that her love-liquid would simply start to run and glisten along her freshly shaved legs. She had shaved them the day before, ill because she wanted them to be so smooth when Pam arrived, and since she knew that Pam paid such close attention to her own personal grooming, she sort of wanted to keep up with her. If, and how she longed for this, if by chance Pam took a liking to her and wanted to touch her, Laura wanted so very much to be as wonderfully soft as she could be.
The boys decided in their own way that they were going to take the boat, rev it up to full speed and shoot the reef over near the breakwater. They also decreed that the expedition was too dangerous to allow the girls along. Laura was angered by the thought, but she had already planned what was to transpire while the two fools were away.
But even Laura wasn't prepared for the delight which Pam offered to her. As soon as the two of them had been put ashore, Pam asked her to rub her down with sun-tan oil and offered to do the same for her.
For the next hour Laura was in heaven. They found a secluded spot on the Short's beachfront and they began to work on each other. To Laura, Pam seemed so unaware and innocent during the whole session. She so readily and eagerly shed her bikini top, exposing her firm untanned and shapely young tits. Laura resolved to make those enticing pink nipples stand up and take notice before this session was finished. She wanted to incite a burning, a craving in her breasts that would spread throughout her, down to her loins and up to her perfectly formed mouth which Laura wanted so much to take in her own, to bury her tongue and eat and suck and lick. Every gentle rub, every soothing stroke of the sun oil on Pam's perfect skin brought Laura closer to orgasm, to crying out for all the world to hear of her lust and love for the woman who lay beside her this minute. And she kept it up. Did she ever keep it up. Ministering to Pam's needs and desires was a labor of total love. She was a slave to this girl, Laura knew, but she was willing, craving to serve, to do the slightest thing that would give pleasure to her friend.
Pamela finally insisted that she stop, that it was her turn to give Laura a rubdown. Laura consented, barely able to conceal the joy she felt at the impending touch of Pam's perfectly manicured fingertips. She lay on her stomach and Pam undid the ribbon that held her bikini top. Laura could feel the sensations shooting through her as her erect nipples touched the surface of the ground below. There was a blanket between her and the sand, so there was some give, some reaction on the part of Mother Earth as it responded to the touch of her erogenous zone. She knew that if she could ever possibly cum without touching herself, this would be the moment.
Pam's fingertips began their magic upon Laura's naked back. She sighed and cried to the touch and when she told her friend how good it felt she was speaking of her most intimate sensual feelings. If there was only something she would dare do to let Pam know about that! Laura thought she was going to cry. She never wanted this moment to end. She wanted Pam to keep up her stroking, to turn her over and fondle, massage and suck her nipples, to unlace her string-tied bikini panties and to insert her fingertip in search of that most intimate of pleasure-sources, the almighty clitoris. If only Pam would do that! She knew she was going to leave a stain of pussy juice upon the beach blanket. She knew that Pam was going to pick up the scent of her rampant pussy at any moment. What would her reaction be?
The two of them lay there next to each other on the sand, talking about all kinds of things. Throughout the conversation Laura kept her eyes on Pam's crotch. She was convinced that as she talked her friend did not notice her fixation, but it was plain as day that Pam's silky pubic bush overflowed the skimpy covering of her bikini panties. Laura was indeed fixated, enthralled with the certainty of the clitoris that lurked behind that tiny triangle of pink material. She knew that it existed only to be pleasured, and she so much wanted to be the one to inflict pleasure upon it. She so much wanted to find out what Pam had experienced in the way of delight so far, because she was certain that she could introduce her to still more.
"What about this friend of yours Robert?" Laura asked. She tried to sound as innocent as possible. In fact she was ashamed at using any subterfuge with her beloved.
"He's kind of a dildo," Pam replied.
Dildo! The magic word resounded in her ears. Laura couldn't believe that her friend had uttered the name of that weapon of pleasure with which females wounded themselves.
Pamela seemed kind of surprised at her own choice of words as well. She felt constrained to add something.
"I don't really like him all that much. He's really kind of stuck-up and he hardly pays attention to me at all. He'd sooner be with a boat or with a car than spend time with me. He's really tight with Warner.
Sometimes I think they're queer for each other." Pam exuded a little laugh. "But when he invited me out here and I heard you were going to be here as well, I kind of jumped at the chance. I figured you and I could have a nice time together in a beautiful house in the Hamptons and those two fools could go off and play by themselves." Pam laughed again. "Or maybe play with themselves would be more like it. Anyway, Laura darling, you have to admit it's nice to see how the other half lives once in a while."
Laura nearly leapt with joy. So her very own precious Pamela did care especially for her after all. She had known it all along. She had been convinced. And now her confidence had been ratified. She was the happiest woman on earth right now. But there was still something else. Another plane of love and affection remained to be explored. Thoughts of the sexual returned as Laura once again focused her gaze upon Pam's bare breasts and upon the wisps of pubic hair that stretched away from her tantalizing pussy.
The heavenly afternoon couldn't last forever, as even Laura realized. The boys returned alive from their adventure over near the rocks, and the sun took a noticeable tilt toward the western horizon. It was time to go inside the mansion and get ready for dinner. Warner had promised an intimate barbeque for just the four of them. Laura looked forward to the evening, but as far as she was concerned it involved two too many people.
Laura took a long warm shower. She soaped every part of her body slowly and carefully and she massaged herself as well as she could. At times like these she wanted to be especially good to herself, so that she would be worthy of Pam's adoration. Just like she had shaved her legs well in advance of Pam's visit so that she wouldn't have any cuts or nicks to mar her smooth skin.
There were lots of bathrooms on the upper floors of the Short's mansion, too many as far as Laura was concerned, because she couldn't arrange it so that she and Pam would have to share. She wouldn't be able to see the exquisite nude body of her friend before dinner, and if she didn't plot somehow, she might not see it naked again before the end of this visit. So right now all she could do was content herself with fingering her pussy and imagining that it was Pam doing the work down there between her legs. This masturbation session had to be quick, and it was much in the nature of simply relieving herself of the incredible desires and tension that she had felt in Pam's company through the entire afternoon. She worked back and forth over her clit bud with a thumb and forefinger even as she stood in the shower. It was just too good. The warm water played an oddly cooling stream across her burning pussy, and she spread the lips of her cunt as far apart as possible, in an effort to direct the stream of water right up into her thirsty cunt. Over the background of running water she softly cried the name of her beloved. And then the spasms came. She was cumming like she had never cum before. Multiple orgasms! Nonstop firings, involuntary jerks! Her cunt was running away from her! She was going to collapse and drown right here in an inch of water. She was being forced to commit suicide by her own mad lust. She wanted to scream Pamela's name, to have her love rush in and rescue her from the jaws of death at her own hand, but the shout was stifled by her own voice box. She was helpless in the grip of her own raging animalism. She was a woman in heat, Laura knew, and if there was no one around to mount and satisfy her, then she was going to have to achieve that satiation on her own. She was a young woman in the prime of her sexual development and she was sick, insane with lust. She couldn't stand it anymore. She just couldn't bear this affliction alone anymore. By hook or by crook, Laura knew that Pamela would have to be made to suffer, to enjoy, to wallow, to want the passion that was flaming inside her.
Laura spent as long as she could getting ready for dinner. She wanted to look her very best so that Pamela would find it impossible to keep her eyes from her. When she finally got downstairs onto the porch, she noticed that Warner and Bob had already made quite an inroad on the bottle of gin that stood on the side table.
Both boys turned to her as she walked in, and she knew damn well that they were checking her out, sizing her up for some possible action they had in mind for later in the evening. Laura remembered Warner's performance earlier in the day and wondered what he would possibly dare tonight.
"Mother and father left for their party already, so I thought it was time to break out the liquor," Warner announced. He offered her a tall glass filled with gin and tonic.
Laura accepted. She didn't want to do anything to antagonize these two. And she took a few sips from the glass even though she hated gin. She noticed immediately that Warner had made the drink incredibly strong, no doubt in order to get her drunk. What a selfish fucker, she thought!
But her antagonism vanished when Pamela joined them on the porch. To Laura, her friend looked more stunning than before. She seemed to have tanned immediately from the afternoon sun. And the new white silk blouse that she had put on made her dark features radiate with beauty. She had left a couple of buttons undone and Laura could just make out the curves of her breasts. A gold necklace dangled brightly against the tantalizing expanse of bare skin. With her French jeans and high heeled sandals, Pam looked like a vision from a beauty magazine. Laura melted before her, and her pussy juice began to soak through her panties. Counting her bathing suit, this was the third pair today that Pam had caused her to mess.
Dinner was nothing special. Warner had lit a fire in the outdoor fireplace, and he slipped some steaks on the grill, but the girls wound up tending to them because Warner and Bob claimed to know nothing about food. The two women also found themselves saddled with preparing corn on the cob for the same reason. Thank goodness, they thought, that the maid had left a big salad in the refrigerator and a pie on the countertop. Neither of them had come to East Hampton to spend Saturday night preparing dinner for the two guys. But at least they could commiserate with each other and continue the conversation they had begun while sunning on the beach. Laura was convinced that this weekend would cement a new and very close relationship with the stunning Pamela.
Warner and Bob, meanwhile, had practically finished off the bottle of gin and now the sweet-smelling smoke of marijuana cigarettes filled the cool night air. Pam looked at Laura and she frowned back. Without words they both agreed that the two boys were getting very high and making fools of themselves. In fact the two of them were laughing and giggling and making jokes as if the two girls weren't even there. They did, however, offer Pam and Laura a few tokes on their reefers, and the girls accepted little puffs, just to keep the social situation on an even keel.
By the end of dinner though the two young men were totally out of control, running around the yard, jumping up and down, screaming out across the bay obscenities that they thought were hilariously funny. The girls were disgusted.
"I thought this was the time when they were both supposed to be putting the moves on us." Pam said. "Bob told me that Warner's parents were probably going to be out all night."
Laura smirked. "Warner tried to fuck me in his sailboat this morning, but he shot his wad all over before he could get his dong out of his pants. He probably couldn't find my vagina anyway."
Pam smiled knowingly, then burst into laughter.
"Bob tried the same thing only last night. But he was drunk then too, and he passed right out at my feet before he could even unbutton my blouse. What a boor. He has no idea of what consideration means. God knows how much I've wanted to feel what an orgasm is like. I even tried to help him get up, but it was no use." She spoke softly now. "You know, Laura, I'm embarrassed to even say it, but I wanted to feel the joys of sex so badly that I was willing to let Bob show them to me."
Laura perked up at her friend's words.
"I doubt either of those two are capable of showing anyone else the joys of anything. They probably don't even know how to masturbate very well."
Pam laughed. Laura joined her. She found that she was staring at Pam's breasts now, even more than she had stared before, only this time she wasn't trying to cover up. There was a kind of electricity filling the air between the two girls.
Then Pam uttered just the words that Laura wanted to hear.
"Sometimes I wonder if only a woman can really introduce another woman to the real pleasures of sex, at least from the totally female perspective. I mean, we seem to be so much more complicated where our feelings are concerned, and so many boys just don't seem to realize that."
Without saying anything, Laura reached out her hand and touched the soft silk of Pam's blouse. Then she gently parted the covering from her friend's breasts and exposed them to her sight. The pink nipples shown in the half light of the porch. The boys weren't even to be heard. Laura saw nothing but the radiance of her friend, who seemed to grasp eagerly at her hand and caress herself with Laura's fingers.
No more words were spoken. The two girls had total communication with each other now. They clasped and caressed, they unbuttoned and untied. They exposed themselves to each other and offered each other intimate parts of their bodies to touch.
The magic did not disappear even after they managed to get away from the boys and slip off to their bedrooms under some pretext. The boys didn't seem to mind at all. Pam and Laura agreed that the two were probably much too embarrassed to attempt any moves tonight.
Right away the girls sneaked into one bedroom and resumed the explorations that they had begun downstairs. They stood in front of each other now, totally naked in the moonlight that streamed through the bedroom window. They gazed at each other for the longest time, and then they slowly reached out to touch, to explore, to make each other aware of feelings that each had discovered independently. Laura's pussy was a torrent of love-lubrication, for her lover was with her at the moment and she was readying herself for penetration. She guided Pam's fingers to her clitoris and instinctively her friend began to titillate, to caress, to work her toward a monumental climax. She knew that tonight it was going to be the best ever, and Laura was going to give as good as she got. She lolled the nipple buds of Pam's beautiful breasts between her thumb and forefinger. She made the titties as hard and erect as her own had ever been under hours of self-stimulation and Pam began to coo and sigh and beg for more and more and more. She implored to be licked and sucked and fingered in new places, her tits, her mouth, her cunt and clit, and around her ass-hole. Laura couldn't believe the overwhelming sensuality that her friend exhibited. Pam seemed to go out of control, to be totally absorbed in the giving and receiving of pleasure. The two girls became a giant, nonstop self contained sex machine, jerking and crying and thumping and humping. Laura squirmed and worked and ground her pelvis down and around on the searching thrusting fingers of her friend. Masturbation was never like this! And when Pam violated the privacy of her ass-hole with a rigid pole-like index finger, Laura felt that the sheer pleasure was going to split her right in half. She, in turn, fingered Pam with the most powerful hand-job she could muster. She was determined to outdo the sheer vibratory energy of the most technologically advanced erotic devices.
The girls kept it up for what seemed like hours, secure in the knowledge that as lusting females they had an incredible advantage over men. They simply did not get up, get off, and get tired. They could cum again and again.
"I'm cumming!" Laura panted.
"I'm cumming!" Pam gasped.
And so it went. Jerk after jerk. Spasm after spasm. Discovery of one erotic gratification after another. A whole new world opened up even as Pam and Laura opened up their legs to each other, opened up their mouths to eat and suck and lick every last part of each other's sensual body.
And after they had each cum more times than they could remember, they cradled each other in their arms and drifted off to sleep secure in the knowledge that they had achieved secret pleasures which they would share again and again in the future.
"I love you, Pam," Laura whispered, as she kissed her lover goodnight on the lips.
"You're the best fuck a girl could ever have," Pam replied. She giggled at her own choice of words. They both had taken newfound pleasure in using vulgar bathroom language to describe what they had been doing to each other.
So this trip to East Hampton had turned out beyond her wildest expectations, Laura thought. She was content now. Warner Short and anxiety were far from her consciousness. She slept with the taste of Pam's delicious pussy on her lips and the memory of Pam's fingers driving deep into her cunt.
CHAPTER FOUR
Fran stood on the corner. She laughed so hard she almost couldn't stand up. Eva was next to her. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Her laughter had induced a fit of crying.
"I couldn't believe that movie," Fran gasped. "My first honest-to-goodness 'adult' film and it drives me to utter hysteria."
"It was pretty ridiculous," Eva admitted. "But I kind of think the audience was even funnier than the picture. All those tired old businessmen and derelicts masturbating into brown paper bags."
"Is that what they were doing?" Fran thought she was going to have another spasm when Eva told her that. She knew she was so naive about some things. That's why she had just gone to the film with her friend in the first place. She just wanted to have the experience. There were so many things that she had never done, some of them seemingly small and unimportant, but nevertheless she was determined to give them a try.
"The way that couple went on and on and on. I wonder if it was as boring for them as it was for us to watch?" Eva asked.
"It certainly looked like that pair could sell anybody on the idea of not having sex," Fran observed.
"I might not go quite that far," Eva replied. "We ought to try one of those gay films the next time just to see what they're like. I wonder if the audience would be dressed to kill?"
"No thanks, Eva. I just might run into my ex-husband there." She paused. "On second thought, he probably has a film projector installed in his new apartment so he can watch a faggot movie at the touch of a button."
"How about a coffee before you go home," Eva suggested. "Laura's out in East Hampton so you don't have to cook dinner for her."
"I'd like to join you. But my nephew still really isn't settled in yet and I sort of promised to do something special in the way of dinner for him tonight. It's not really so bad. He's utterly gorgeous and charming and reminds me of the fact that my side of the family has something on the ball too. I really need that kind of support right now."
Fran said good-bye to Eva and began to walk toward her apartment. As she walked along, thoughts about that movie found their way into her head. Sure it was ridiculous and silly and had driven her to distraction. She and Eva had even walked out before the end. But she wasn't laughing anymore. She was thinking about the wild male-female passion that the young actors were attempting to show on the screen. That they hadn't succeeded was beside the point now. Fran began to dwell once again on all of what she had missed during her married life. She couldn't help feeling that she had been robbed of something that was very valuable to any young normal heterosexual woman: the right to be passionately balled by a virile young stud, and the right of them both to have a good time doing it. Even now she was thinking how nice it would be if she had been introduced to the delights of sex by a man instead of having to instruct herself in those long, lonely hours of masturbation.
But what could she do? She certainly wasn't going to ask some young brute on the street corner to help her make up for lost time. She wasn't going to quit working at Eva's gallery and hire out as an afternoon prostitute. There was such an accumulation of hang-ups that she had to deal with and at times like these she felt that the load was just too much to bear and that she would never be able to change. What was past was past, she thought, and the very idea of that drove her nearly to tears. Lesbianism? How could she? Not after all those years with her dreadful faggot husband. More masturbation? She dreaded as well the thought of being condemned to that. Was she never to feel the huge rigid organ of a real man ramming in and out of her dripping cunt ever again? But she was still so bitter toward men in general. She didn't see how she could recover from that bitterness so very soon. She was beginning to slide into a very lonely depressed state as she walked toward her home. Even Laura wouldn't be around to talk to tonight. She and Laura didn't have to talk. Sometimes just knowing that her daughter was in close proximity was enough to give her peace of mind. In desperation she looked forward to some possibility of an interesting evening with her nephew Peter. So he was a man, she thought, at least he seemed unspoiled and considerate.
Just then a shop she was passing caught her eye. It was a very special kind of retail establishment, not one usually found on the streets of most cities. But New York had quite a few like it. The place was called the "Freak Bouteak" and in the window hung every sort of erotic device imaginable. Yes, things hung on leather straps and chains and different kinds of thongs. And more devices were displayed all through the place. Fran could see inside. She couldn't believe what she saw. Some things she recognized because they were based on lingerie that was familiar to her? corsets and brassieres and panties and girdles and garter belts and waist cinches. But there was a big difference, the material. All of these were done in leather or plastic or even rubber and embellished with metal studs or pocked with holes to give views of or access to private places. Now Fran looked closer, and she began to imagine herself dressed in some of this very special lingerie, and before she knew it her pussy began to water. She became oblivious to what was happening on the street. She lost all her inhibitions, all embarrassment at standing alone in front of this erotic boutique fixated on its exotic wares: on lengths of chain and wire and ropes that were specially geared for episodes of bondage and discipline, on handcuffs and manacles and trusses designed to shackle one's body in unnatural positions of pleasure-pain. And there were whips and riding crops and cat-o-nine tails, helmets, masks and studded jockstraps. And spread right out in front of her was a large assortment of vibrators, dildos, and some other things that Fran didn't even know the names of, but which the salesperson could have told her were french ticklers, penis rings and a "seven gates of hell." It was the dildo that enthralled Fran, a rigid pole-penis that she could call her own, that she could swallow with her hungry cunt, that would provide her with the orgasms that she so desperately needed every day now, upon which she had grown so dependent. She knew she was falling in love with this devilish instrument of female masturbation and self-love even as she stood in front of the store window. She had been too embarrassed to buy one of these devices before, but her life was changing, her needs were changing, and an irresistible power drew her into the shop. The young ambi-sexual salesperson was very considerate and discreet and helped Fran select a model which she was convinced would give her the most obscene, extreme pleasures. She was so turned on by the wares in the store that she also selected a pair of black leather panties, with their crotch cut out to reveal pussy, of course, as well as to provide access.
She'd parted with a bit of money, but she didn't care. She needed this gratification, Fran thought, as she skipped home. She felt like a young girl with new toys and already she was making plans. Her previous jerkoff sessions would pale before what she had in mind now: she was going to give her clit and her cunt a real workout with her new dildo, and she was going to slip into her new leather panties and sit in her rocking chair right in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom and she was going to rock and diddle and rock and diddle and watch herself cum as she had never cum before! Her pussy was soaking even now in anticipation of the delights she promised herself.
Fran got to her apartment building and took the elevator upstairs. It was an old converted industrial building in which she lived, so the elevators were very large and they moved very slowly. She had even more time to concentrate on the masturbation that she was planning. She wouldn't be disturbed for at least an hour, she thought. Peter had mentioned that he was going to visit an actress this afternoon. He told her that he had once worked with this woman in California and that she had just moved to New York also. Fran sniffed as the old elevator clanked upwards. Its ventilator wasn't working as usual and she became positively convinced that she could smell the scent of her own pussy. It was enough to make her fall in love with herself all over again, she thought.
Fran fumbled for her house key and swung open the heavy front door. She wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted her. She gasped. She thought she was going to pass out. She wanted to scream but the shock was too great.
Right in front of her on the kitchen table, on her very own custom made heavy duty butcher block kitchen table her young cousin was engaged in balling a woman. From where she stood, Fran thought it looked like a wrestling match! The two copulators were going at it so hard that they didn't even realize she was standing there! Every muscle in Peter's athletic-looking back glistened with sweat as he moved up and down, in and out of the woman who lay spread eagled where Fran was accustomed to eating dinner. Had she stumbled into some kind of parallel universe of sheer sexuality, Fran asked herself. Had going into that erotic boutique somehow changed her whole vision of the way things were supposed to be? Was this really happening in her own kitchen?
The young woman screamed, but in pleasure, not in pain. Peter moaned and began to work even harder. Fran didn't see how he could keep it up. He looked like he'd just run a marathon and was going back for more. She had no idea how many times he'd cum, but his penis was as rigid as if it had just sprung into lusty life, it looked like a huge lead pipe or a telephone pole or something, Fran thought. Her new dildo seemed genuinely puny in comparison. And what a cunt that spread-eagled bitch must have, Fran marveled. To be able to swallow the monstrous thrusts of a member like her nephew's! And the bitch was still begging, pleading for more! How long had the two of them been doing this? How long had she been standing there, just watching them? And they still hadn't acknowledged her presence. Maybe they just didn't know she was there. Maybe they belonged to some bizarre fucking cult and they were having some kind of religious experience! Who knows what strange sects they might have out in California, Fran thought.
Then she heard the ritual words, here uttered with more conviction, with even more insistent vulgarity: "Fuck me! Suck me! Splay me! Play me!" they screamed. Fran couldn't tell who was saying what. But it didn't really matter. This was fantasy sex that she was witnessing.
Then the woman yelled. "Turn me over, you Wilde man! Turn me over and ram your champion rod up my ass-hole and fill my bowels with your cum. Mix your sperm with my shit!"
And Peter obeyed. He slowly extricated his dong from the woman's cunt and got up. He seemed bent over with the weight of the monster dangling between his legs, but Fran knew that he was young and strong and that if anyone was a master of his own cock it was the boy-man standing in the room in front of her.
Then he saw her.
Fran's jaw dropped.
Peter's didn't.
"I'm so glad you're home, Fran. You can join me and my friend Jeri here for some fun."
Fran was unable to speak, or even to move.
"I'm sorry I didn't invite you earlier, Fran." He spoke in such a calm voice. "Jeri and I didn't actually plan on this session to take place in your kitchen, but we couldn't fuck the afternoon away at Jeri's house because her husband was there, and well, I kind of thought you wouldn't mind."
Fran still was paralyzed.
The girl waved and smiled at her from her prone position on the table.
"Peter told me what a beautiful woman you were and he certainly was right. As a matter-of-fact the two of us were just talking about how nice it would be if you came home and made love with us. It doesn't matter which way you swing, you know, there's plenty of dick and pussy to go around. And if you like ass-holes, well, there's three in the room right now." She paused and smiled again. "I sure would like to eat your pussy, Fran, and I think you'd get a real kick out of it."
Fran told herself that this wasn't happening to her. She desperately tried to convince herself that this scene wasn't being played in her very own kitchen. This wasn't even a sex fantasy. It was a scene from some bizarre, utterly depraved sex movie, a film so gross as to be beyond belief. She was hallucinating.
Jeri was really trying to see her on the three-way ball.
"Peter's still loaded with cum," she said. "Even though he's shot two loads into me already. One into my cunt and one up my ass. Your nephew is a real champion fucker. I feel like I'm just going to float away."
So that was Peter's secret, Fran decided. She had known there was something weird about her nephew the first moment she met him. She looked at him now. The naked bastard was still as beautiful as ever. If she'd been really depraved, she should have sneaked a peak at him in the shower or something before now. That body of his was something else! Every muscle was tensed, every bit of his energy seemed to be focused toward his genitals. His balls hung like huge sacks from his crotch. He must be able to hold oceans of sperm in there, Fran thought. And a monstrous, cannon size dong shot out rigid as a pole from his scrotum. To think that he had shot his wad twice already and wanted to come back for more required that Fran suspend her belief. But her powers of perception and reasoning must have disintegrated already since she was part of this event. Suddenly she realized that her eyes, her mind, every fiber of her being, her whole energy was directed and fixated toward her nephew's shining penis and the glistening pussy of his sexual partner. What was happening to her. Was she sliding into this abyss of gross carnality?
"If you don't want to take a part in the swing, you might just want to watch the two of us go at it," Peter said. "We could put on a pretty good show. In fact we made a couple of movies. But I sort of doubt you . saw 'Take Me Out to the Ball Game.' Stick around and find out what you missed."
Fran gasped. She thought she was going to pass out. That was the movie she and Eva had just seen! She had seen her own nephew and this whore-partner in living color on the screen and now she was seeing them again in her own home!
"Why don't you just take your clothes off and relax," Jeri suggested. "You just might feel like joining in on the spur of the moment."
She watched transfixed as Jeri lay back on the kitchen table and Peter spread lubricating jelly all over his gleaming penis. Then he climbed back atop her and inserted his ramrod right up into her rectum. Jeri screamed, but Fran could tell that there was a kind of orgiastic sigh mixed in with the shock that the woman was experiencing. And a torrent of obscene bathroom nonsense words spewed from Jeri's lips. She screamed that she was going to make Peter eat what she excreted from her bowels, the mixture of his cum and her shit! Fran wasn't surprised at anything now, not even the incredibly gross "love" words that this pair was shouting to each other. Obviously, for them love was something quite unlike Fran had ever been taught to believe.
But Fran did not leave the room. She did not run away in disgust. She wasn't even sure that she felt anything like disgust, or even surprise anymore. She wanted to know how these two did it, what drove them to it, and how they could set such incredible endurance tests for themselves. And then, in spite of herself, she remembered that there was something she had had her heart set on when she walked in here not so long ago. She glanced down at the bag that held her new dildo and her obscene crotchless leather panties. She was supposed to be masturbating right now. She had looked forward to playing with herself all day and then she had arrived home to find her porn star nephew and his film partner balling on the kitchen table. What right did they have to interfere with her pleasure, to frustrate her drooling, dripping, hungry pussy? Fran felt that she was beginning to get angry, that her body was beginning to fill with a kind of tension.
Then her eyes fell on to the loving, fucking, couple once more. Peter's prick was rigid as ever, ramming in and out of Jeri's rectum. And that bitch was in ecstasy! This porn-whore was getting balled up the ass and she was screaming for more! She just couldn't get enough, but, by golly, Peter was really trying. He was working in and out, thumping and humping, his bare ass gyrating in the air like some obscene machine. Her nephew was automatic. There was no letting up as far as Fran could tell. He was a marathon bailer. How did he do it? Did he have some sort of pacemaker in his penis? And all this ass-fucking! Fran thought of her own tiny hole of a rectum. How could such a big dangling dong ever slide into her anus? She could rub a rod like that with all the lubricating jelly in the world and it still wouldn't fit. It couldn't even be forced without killing her!
But what was she doing? Fran awakened in surprise. What was going on with her own body? She looked down at herself, and what did she see but her very own hand inside her pants. She'd unbuttoned her slacks and she was playing with herself, fingering her wet pussy, lolling her sensitive clit bud around between her thumb and forefinger! She was giving herself a hand job while these two sexual athletes cavorted obscenely in front of her! Her masturbation session had gone on in spite of attempts to the contrary! She was being caught up in a sexual hurricane. And she couldn't help herself. In fact, she loved it. She had to have more and she had to have it right now. This constriction was too much to bear.
Fran dropped her shopping bag and her purse and unbuttoned her slacks all the way. The rich material fell to her ankles and she stepped forward, leaving her pants in a pile on the floor. Then she stripped off her pantystockings, and kicked off her shoes. Naked from the waist down, she was working away at her cunt for all she was worth. Her fingers drove faster and faster, deeper and deeper into her lusting vagina. She was shedding her inhibitions as fast as she shed clothes. In no time at all her blouse had been unbuttoned by an automatic hand, her brassiere had been discreetly unclasped and had fallen to the floor. Fran was outside herself now, viewing the scene as one attends an obscene peep show. And the show in her kitchen had no socially redeeming value whatsoever! The three people existed in time and space only for one thing: sexual fulfillment.
Fran was going to make herself cum, she was determined to incite her pussy to the most incredible sequence of multiple orgasms it had ever experienced. She was going to take everything she had taught herself over the past few weeks and use it tonight! This fascinating tableau of lust, this exhibition of prurience was going to be her final examination in autoeroticism. She was going to get off watching these two professionals get themselves off, and she just might lose her amateur status in the process. She was beginning to jerk now, the muscles between her legs were beginning to take off on their own now, and she knew what that meant. There was one twitch, then another, and the spasms started, the fire started, her involuntary moans, familiar to her now from those long hours of self love, welled up in her throat. She couldn't believe that she was now uttering them in the presence of others.
Then she remembered the presents she had bought herself in the erotic boutique. She had hurried him just to indulge herself in the pleasures which the dildo might afford her, in the exotic, sexy feeling of leather next to her soft skin and the ability to masturbate herself right through a hole in the panties. Why should this be denied to her just because a couple of reprobates were balling themselves silly next to the salt and pepper shakers? Fran decided that there was no reason why she should be left out of the dirty movie that was unreeling itself in the room. It just wasn't fair. She hadn't spent all those years locked in a barren marriage to be doomed to suffer the rest of her life as a lonely masturbator.
Fran was squatting on the kitchen floor now, supporting herself on one hand and madly fingering herself with the other.
She heard herself yelling now. "You bastard Peter! You bitch Jeri! Cut out your mad balling and let's make this a real three way swing."
At first they didn't seem to hear her. For Fran it was like a bad dream. Shout as loud as she could, there was just no way to get attention. Be that as it may, her fingers just kept oft keeping on. She was diddling her clit on the edge of orgasm. Right here in the same room with what surely must be one of the greatest cocks of all time and what was she doing? She was playing with herself. Poor Fran. She was suffering an utter embarrassment of riches. She had been offered cock this evening and she hadn't known what to do with it. If she inclined to love for a member of her own sex, well, she had been offered that too. And what had she done? She'd acted like an inhibited prepubescent prude. Fran desperately tried to rationalize. She just wasn't used to having porn film stars do it on her kitchen table. Couldn't she be forgiven for that? Who was being so hard on her anyway? Hadn't she tried hard enough today? Hadn't she bought herself a dildo and a pair of crotchless leather panties? Wasn't she standing stark naked jerking herself off while these two mad fuckers' bodies pumped up and down in front of her? And now that she'd rid herself of all her foolish inhibitions why weren't they responding to her plea for three way satisfaction?
Then another worldly shout forced its way from Peter's lips. Jeri screamed that her bowels were being destroyed, that she would have to adhere to a liquid diet for the rest of her life because she would never be able to eliminate from her anus again! Peter screamed back that that was exactly what she deserved.
"You're so right, Peter, you master fucker! That's my punishment for being such a bad girl and telling my husband about you."
"Did he beat you, bitch?" Peter snarled.
"No Peter," she answered. "The sissy wouldn't punish me like I deserved. He tied me up and forced me to tell him the details of our balling while he jerked off right there in front of me."
Fran heard that bizarre exchange. And it excited her. It inspired her. She ripped open the bag she'd brought from the erotic boutique and pulled out her new leather panties. She pressed the virgin black leather to her nose and her lips. She wanted to smell, to taste the scent and the texture of the soft smooth skin before she smeared the jism of her spewing snatch all over it. She put the panties on. Her jet black pubic bush burst out through the slit in the leather and she continued her frantic masturbation. Only with a new twist. Now she twisted her new dildo back and forth inside her clenching cunt lips. She spread the tender pink flesh apart and thrust the weapon of pleasure in and out, a surrogate for the hard cock that she pleaded for but which would pay her no attention. Just like a selfish man, she thought, to think only of himself and let her seek her own gratification elsewhere.
Fran found herself screaming now. She shouted obscenities, oaths, anything that came into her head just to get the attention of the entwined bodies on the table. She didn't know what they were doing up there. After fucking like that her nephew and that partner of his should be dead. As it was things were beginning to blur for Fran. The spasms engendered at the bud of her clit were coming hot and heavy now, and she knew the dildo was about to achieve for her the climax of its devilish duty.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. And another hand on her other shoulder. She looked up, but without removing the device from her vagina. She was a mistress of masturbation now, and she could indeed pay attention to other things while jerking herself off. What she saw now was a dazed and smiling Jeri to one side of her and a beaming nephew at her other side. His penis dangled only inches from her face, and that organ was as prominent as ever, a monstrous pole spouting dribbling fluid, fueled by giant sacs of cum at the base of his crotch. Didn't this guy ever quit? What was the next pleasure-torture on his mind for tonight?
"You're pretty handy with the dildo there, Fran," he announced. "I'd star you in one of my films any day of the week."
That's just what she wanted. She'd thought about that before. Fran wanted to be the dildo queen of the skin flicks!
"Why don't you take a breather and let me suck your pussy?" Jeri asked. "It looks like you have a mighty fine snatch there, and my tongue would be a lot easier on your clit than that hunk of plastic you're diddling it with now."
"I want to swing with you," Fran shouted. She repeated the plea over and over, louder and louder. She didn't care who heard her screaming for satisfaction. She didn't care if they heard her all the way down on the street. She kept working away at her cunt with the dildo, diddling and diddling. She didn't care about her residual bitterness toward the male sex anymore. She didn't care about the shock she'd experienced when she arrived home. Only sensations, orgasms, spasms and jerks mattered to her now. After all these years her pussy had finally demanded and won its claim for attention. Her nephew and this whore of his could deliver her once and for all from sexual desolation.
Peter and Jeri smiled at each other. They had imagined that this was the way it was going to be. They knew that they were one of the world's great fucking couples and that a few minutes of watching their act would turn anyone into a confirmed voyeur. In fact they often watched themselves on videotape just for the fun of it, and usually found themselves jerking off together and swinging into another fucking session. They were such masters that often the sexual path they blazed took them far beyond mere genital-genital contact, or even mere partner-partner intimacy. They were constantly on the lookout for new forms of stimulation, gratification, and copulation. And now they saw their chance to liven up this afternoon fucking session. What a pity there had only been the two of them until now. They would have to make up for some of the lost time.
"You have any cum left in those balls of yours?" Jeri asked.
"Don't be foolish, darling," Peter snapped. "You know I can take care of you and her both. I haven't even begun to fuck."
He went over to the counter and fiddled with a little bag. Fran watched even as she continued to play with herself. The beats were coming hot and heavy now. She was jerking and cumming just like her usual self-love marathons, but with an important difference. She was masturbating in front of others and now that she had lost her inhibitions she found that she was enjoying it immensely. In fact, she was putting on a show for the other two. And Jeri was very interested, to say the least. Fran spread her legs wider, to give Jeri an even better view of her pubic bush and the splayed open lips of her vagina. Jeri watched as the lubricated head of the dildo lolled about the elusive clit bud and poked itself at Fran's command up into the vaginal orifice itself. Unconsciously Jeri moved her own hand down to her cunt and began to work herself over too, slowly at first, but picking up speed and passion as she got into it, as she got farther and farther into herself. In no time at all, practically her whole hand had disappeared up into her cunt and she was almost falling over in the throes of ecstatic self-love.
Peter was back now, and he stood over the two masturbating women like a proctor at some final exam.
"That's right, you two," he said. "Get yourselves good and wet. You're going to need all the lubrication you can get. The world's greatest cock is about to fuck into both your cunts."
"Oh, Peter," Jeri implored. "Can't you just let us womenfolk have some fun on our own once in a while?"
Peter smiled. "I sure can. I just love to sit back and watch you put on a show. Why don't you go over and eat Fran's pussy? Would you like that, Fran?"
The hard dildo tore into Fran's cunt. She used all her strength to pound it back and forth, to keep up the fantastic pressure that was bringing her such incredible pleasure. How she so wished that it were alive, that it would develop passions and drives of its own, the better to satisfy the lusting perverted emotions that she had been powerless to stop from taking over her mind and body. But what was this that she was hearing through the veil of lust that surrounded her? Was the other woman in the room offering to drive her living, sucking, vibrating tongue into the nether reaches of her very cunt? Was Fran about to cap her adventures in sexual discovery with a blatant lesbian act? She looked at Jeri, at the girl's full red lips, at the thick pink tongue that was licking them in anticipation of driving past Fran's snatch hair and making oral contact with her genitals. And to think Jeri had told her that she had mighty fine pussy! No one had ever said anything like that to her in her life!
Suddenly the dildo fell from Fran's hand to the floor. Her wet pussy made a sucking noise as it suffered the shock of stimulation violently withdrawn. Fran watched now, transfixed as Jeri moved from her squatting position toward her, slowly, hungrily, continuing to finger herself all the while. The girl's wet lips glistened in the light of the room. Her pubic hair gleamed with saliva and sperm and pussy juice. She was a living, breathing sex machine and she was coming, together with Peter to take charge of Fran's sexual life and in one fell swoop redeem her from years of backwardness. It was going to be a great leap forward, a small step for female sexuality, perhaps, but the turning point of Fran's life.
"Here's something for you, honey," Peter whispered in Jeri's ear. He bent over to her and she grasped his hand and took a long, deep sniff at whatever it was he held. A second later her face blossomed with an incredible look of freshness and stimulation.
Fran sat still as Peter walked slowly toward her. She watched as he reached out to her also. So that was it! That was the reason for the bizarrely long fingernail on one hand! There was a tiny bit of white powder in the underside of the nail.
Peter flashed a smile of recognition. "Crazy manicure I have, but I never was able to afford a silver coke spoon."
Cocaine! Fran should have been stunned, but she was beyond that now, far beyond that. She clasped Peter's finger to her nostrils and snorted as hard as she could, breathed as if her life depended upon it, as if the fine white powder was all that remained between her and suffocation. Then the rush came. Fran felt that her head was going to explode. The blast shot up through her sinuses, down her throat, into her lungs. She was propelled into orbit by the rocket that had launched itself inside her. She was streaking far into space, leaving everything that was familiar to her far behind, rushing headlong into the unknown.
But she was not afraid. There was a strange sense of peace mixed with violent yearning that coursed through her now. She floated, and she looked down at the head of Jeri as the girl's mouth rendezvoused with her pubic regions. A second later the sensations of lusty licking and flicking reached her brain as Jeri's tongue went about its business of eating her pussy. Orgasms! Those were orgasms that she was having now! She was cumming and cumming! It had-never been this good when she had done it all by herself. Her fingers, her vibrator, her dildo! None of them measured up to the sensations she was receiving from the automatic manic tongue of the porn film queen who was eating her out! If only someone were filming this fantastic lesbian scene right now!
But wait! That wasn't all! Two long, masculine arms intruded on Fran's hazed field of vision now. Two strong arms reached around her from behind and clenched themselves to her breasts. Peter's fingers began to diddle her nipples. As if she could possibly submit to any more stimulation! Was there any part of her, any stray molecule of her being that had not been awakened to lust?
And what was this? Her ass-hole was being assaulted. She'd never dreamed of such a thing. That orifice was meant only for excretion, she had been taught. How could anything ever enter back there? It was such a tiny little constricted hole. But something was trying. Something fought its way in through the puckered little anus that was set between her lovely smooth ass cheeks. Was it a greased finger? Was it a toe? Did it belong to Peter? Or to Jeri? Fran couldn't tell. She had no senses left for anything like that. All her powers of feeling and perception were directed to one place: her pussy, and to one thing: the experience of more orgasms. Every other bodily function, every other input to her brain had been suspended by the effect of the cocaine and the prurient actions of her sexual partners. She climbed outside her body now, and she watched the most incredibly salacious blue movie ever made, a film with her, Fran Dickerson in the starring role.
There was even a dialogue.
"That husband of yours was a faggot, wasn't he?" Peter asked the question and Fran knew that she'd better tell the truth, or else.
"Owen could never get it up with a woman," Fran confessed. "The only way I managed to get pregnant was to dress up as a boy and get him to jerk off into my cunt."
Fran heard Peter panting now, and he promised her that things would be different from now on, he threatened her in fact.
"All right, Jeri," he shouted. "It's my turn with her cunt now."
Fran had thought that nothing could ever surpass the insane pleasure that Jeri's tongue had been inflicting upon her. But she was mistaken.
Peter picked her up and carried her over to the kitchen table. She floated above the table for a while, high on the cocaine and overdosing on the orgasms of cunnilingus. Then she glided in for a gentle landing on her back. She could hardly feel what she knew was a hard surface beneath her because all of her senses were concentrated on feeling hardness in one place: Peter's monstrous outstretched dong! Slowly it moved toward her dripping, drooling pussy. It was like an extraterrestrial body in the inevitability of its progress. There was no stopping it, Fran knew, nor should she try. This event was the culmination of all the natural processes that she had initiated that first day she had moved a finger to her pussy and began a search for her elusive clitoris and the pleasure she had heard could be found there. Deep inside her, in her heart and in her cunt she knew that she desperately wanted to be fucked, to be fondled and to be filled.
And filled she was. Her cunt muscles, muscles that had never before been used for their natural purpose violently clenched at the huge rod that drove into her now. She cried as it pierced the outer ring of her vagina, but the tears she shed were joyous tears. Farther and farther she watched it go, until the whole length of Peter's monstrous member had disappeared deep within her. And was it deep! Fran could feel the penile head in the back of her throat. She thrilled at the idea that her breasts were being stimulated from the inside out! She shouted for joy as the first blast of hot male cum crashed inside her with the force of a tidal wave, and she marveled that her own body's reacting to the male offensive was none other than a new wave of orgasms.
Then a shadow cast is pall over Fran's face. A dark spot blotted the light from her eyes. Fran gasped! It was Jeri's pelvis on top of her now! The spot was Jeri's snatch! She was going to get a chance to eat pussy! Fran licked her lips in anticipation. She could smell Jeri's goodies already. The girl's twat reeked of love juice and Fran was going to be able to lick off every bit of the flow from that beautiful glistening twat. Fran attempted to cry out but her scream was stifled as the descending snatch enveloped her wildly vibrating tongue. Fran began to give as good as she got!
CHAPTER FIVE
Fran looked at her daughter across the dinner table. Laura had hardly touched her food.
"What's the matter?" she asked. "Do you feel all right?"
"Im just not hungry tonight, Mom," Laura replied.
"Well, you still have to eat to keep up your strength," Fran insisted. "Go ahead and eat your dinner."
Laura knew that she had to submit and eat a little more anyway. Her mother was still the dominant authority figure in her life. But there had been some tumultuous changes in their relationship lately, changes which did away with many of the barriers that divide mothers and daughters.
"Do you still want to borrow my leather panties for the weekend?" Fran asked.
"I'd love to try them, Mom, that is, if you don't need them. I told Pam about them and she's really excited. She said that something about leather has always held a certain fascination for her."
"Well then, by all means take them." Fran sipped her glass of wine. "Darling, I'm so happy that you and Pam are getting along so well together. Have you both experienced multiple orgasms yet?"
"Sure, Mom. We both fingered each other to multiple orgasms just last night."
Fran smiled.
Laura asked what she was planning to do for the upcoming weekend.
"I'm going up to the mountains with Peter and Jeri. They promised to introduce me to some serious ass-fucking."
"Sounds great, Mom. You'll have to give me a full report."
"I promise, Laura."
"Mom?"
"Yes, Laura. What is it?"
"Mom, I was wondering if we could make love in the bathtub again tonight. Without a dildo or anything. Just using our fingers on each other."
"Of course," Fran answered. "You know I'd love that."
Laura walked over and kissed her mother full on the lips. Then they just smiled at each other for a while. They really had their mother and daughter act together!
