Technically speaking, I must have raped several hundred women in my lifetime. I say "technically speaking" because very few of them were entirely against their will. The cops don't make fine distinctions like that, though.
I learned from my sister that some women can enjoy sex under some extremely unfavorable conditions. If the only unfavorable condition for the woman is that she is going to be forced to lay for you but all other conditions are favorable, she can enjoy it.
The affair with my sister began when I had just turned sixteen. She was almost a year older than I was and just beginning to turn into a woman. Her boobs were beginning to fill out and she started getting interested in boys, but for some reason they wouldn't give her a tumble. Not that she was bad to look at.
I had a younger brother who was always out playing ball but sports never interested me. I liked to read and my mother would get after me sometimes because I "always had my nose in a book." I'd stretch out on the couch in the living room and read for hours.
My father worked nights in a mill and my mother didn't like to sit home alone in the evenings. She'd go out baby sitting and always took in at least one movie a week. She made my sister and I wash the supper dishes and we'd fight sometimes about who was going to wash and who would dry. But we were left alone together a lot and maybe that's the reason it happened.
I think it was on a Saturday afternoon, I was in my usual place on the couch reading when my sister came in. My mother and father were out doing the grocery shopping. She came into the living room and plopped herself carelessly in an overstuffed chair near the window. But she swung her legs up over one of the arms and cushioned her head against the other arm so that the light from the window could fall on the magazine she was opening. I didn't notice until I turned a page that I could see quite a ways up her legs ... and she had nice looking legs.
I went back to my book, but every time I turned a page, I took another look. I don't know if she caught me looking at her then or later, but sitting that way got to be a habit with her. I noticed she was careful not to sit that way when anybody else was home.
Another thing I noticed was that she always managed to get ready for bed before I did and she'd find some pretext to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water in her pajamas or nightgown ... so that I couldn't help but see her. She was wearing brassieres now, and if no one else was around in the mornings when she got up, she'd go to the bathroom in panties and brassiere to wash and brush her teeth.
One night when we were alone together, she got ready for bed a little earlier than usual. She came out wearing a nightgown made of rayon or something. It wasn't quite transparent but when she stood against the light, I could see the outline of her body through it. She suggested that we play a game before we went to bed that sounds a little silly now but sounded like fun then.
"Let's put all the lights out and you see if you can find me in the dark," she proposed. I had just finished a chapter in the book I was reading and it was a convenient place to stop.
"Okay." I said, "And after I find you, you can try to find me."
So we went around putting all the lights out and drawing the shades to make it really dark. She was in the kitchen when the last light went out and I was in the living room. There were two wide double doors that separated the living room from the kitchen and they were usually kept open so that the two rooms were almost one big room. There was a table and six chairs in the kitchen so this would be an obstacle we'd have to look out for. I knew that sound would give me away so I sat down and took my shoes off. Wendy, my sister, was already in her bare feet.
I could feel the threshold under my feet as I went from the living room into the kitchen and then felt for the table. I intended to circle the table using it as a kind of landmark while I searched out from it. I had gone almost completely around it and had about concluded that she'd gone into one of the bedrooms when I smelled her. She had taken a bath and put on some cologne or something and I suddenly got a strong whiff of it. I reached out and my fingers brushed her silky-feeling gown. I made a grab for her when she tried to move away and she was suddenly struggling and giggling in my arms.
I'd never touched a girl as thinly dressed as she was before and a nervous excitement gripped me. She was all soft, not hard like some of the boys I used to wrestle around with. She felt good.
"Now it's your turn to find me." I said and released her. I stole quietly away into the living room and lay down on the rug in there. My theory was that she would try to find me by waving her hands around in front of her as I had done, and she wouldn't be able to touch me with her hands if I was lying down. It took her longer to find me than it did to find her. I smelled her perfume again just before she fell over me. She wrestled around with me when I tried to get away, laughing and giggling, and I could feel that her nightgown had come up around her hips in our struggles.
We played that game often after that. It was inevitable that sooner or later, by accident, I was going to feel her tits. The game always gave me a hard-on and I know she felt it against her sometimes.
I don't think Wendy knew what this play was going to lead to. She knew she was filling out into a woman and I think she got a kick out of teasing and exciting me ... and she got some excitement out of it herself. I was only her brother and she couldn't see any harm in it.
We didn't fight over the dishes so often. The only times she seemed to go over to her girl friends' houses in the evenings was when my mother was home. My mother was wondering about Wendy's lack of boyfriends and asked her if she wanted to go to a school to learn ballroom dancing. Wendy didn't want to go at first because she would be alone. But Mom settled that. "Your brother will take you" she said firmly. My protests fell on deaf ears, so once a week, Wendy and I went to a dance studio where a lot of other's of all ages were trying to learn to dance. And then some evenings Wendy made me practice dancing with her at home. And it was turning out to be a pleasant chore. She felt good against me and she'd lay her cheek against mine sometimes and scold me for bouncing up and down. "Can't you dance smooth?" she asked. So I'd dance on my toes and she'd say, "That's better."
This sort of thing went on for months and then Wendy began to go out on dates. I think she must have been going parking some of the times because she'd come home after date too early to have gone dancing or to a movie. On these times, she wanted to play our "catch me in the dark" game. There were times when I caught her that I thought she deliberately twisted in my grasp so that I'd touch her where I wasn't supposed to. I'd get so excited that I'd lie sleepless for hours, thinking about her in bed in the next room.
One night when my mother was out to a movie and I knew she'd be home late, we played our game after my brother had gone to bed and was asleep. I was sleepless and excited afterwards as usual, but this time I got up and stole out of my bedroom. Wendy's door was ajar and I pushed it open. It stopped with a faint creak and I froze in my tracks. I could hear Wendy's regular breathing. Silently I approached her bed. A little light was coming in the window and I could see the outline of the bed and a suggestion of her head outlined on the whiteness of her pillow. I knelt down beside the bed and very carefully slid my hand under the sheet covering her. Carefully I worked it towards her until I encountered the silkiness of her gown. I felt downward along its edge until I reached the bottom. I followed it with my hand towards her body until I could feel the heat of her body and stopped.
What would I say if she woke up? All I could think of was that she got me excited and I couldn't help it. I moved my hand forward until I touched her with the tops of my fingers. I stopped again but she didn't stir. I withdrew my hand enough so that I could stretch out my fingers and touch her with the underside of them. Gradually I increased the area of contact until my entire hand was in contact with her naked skin . ... and then I could tell that my hand was on her thigh.
She was lying on her back so that my hand was on the top of her thigh. Very slowly. I worked my hand under her gown and up her leg. I thought her breathing had changed slightly ... it didn't seem to be as deep as before. But she lay motionless. I inched my hand higher and higher until my fingers encountered soft hair and I stopped again. Wendy's breathing seemed to have deepened again so I slowly began to explore this territory that was so new to me. I found some furrows and a little protrusion which I assumed was what she peed with. But just below it I found an opening that I could get my finger part way into. It felt like the inside of a mouth drooling with saliva, but it was a mouth without teeth. So this was what men put their cocks into, I thought.
I got to feel Wendy's tits the same way I got up her leg, but I had to be satisfied to feel them through the gown because there wasn't room to get inside. My cock was hard to bursting during all this and it didn't help me to calm down. I had a wet dream that night but Mom must have been expecting something like this and changed the sheets without mentioning it.
I visited Wendy many more times like this. Once she woke up and hissed, "What're you doing in here! Get out!" and I stole sheepishly out. And then I learned that she always woke up when she wore pajamas and hardly ever when she wore nightgowns. There was one night when I went in and found her lying on her side so that she was hard to get to. I'd gotten my hand as far as I could but couldn't reach her pussy. Then she sighed and rolled onto her back. I was startled but managed to follow her body with my hand without removing it. She seemed to sleep on so I explored and caressed her as before.
I began to suspect that she wasn't asleep on these occassions one night when she was lying on her side with one leg flexed so that I could almost reach her pussy from the back of her thigh. But the leg that was stretched out straight had to come back a little. I slid my hand down her leg to her knee and pulled back on it. The leg moved back but I was sure she had helped me. I wasn't so careful with her after that but she seemed to sleep on as well as before
One warm night when Wendy had gone to bed without even a sheet over her. I had stolen in and was feeling her up with one hand on a tit and the other at her pussy. I could feel her little nipple tickling the palm of my hand and her pussy was juicier than I had ever found it before. She was lying on her back with her legs slightly apart. I slid my hand down her leg behind her knee and pulled. Her leg came over easily. Too easily. I worked her legs apart until she was lying wide open to me for the first time. I was certain that she was awake and that she would have stopped me if she wanted me to stop. But she didn't move as I knelt between her legs and rubbed her pussy with my swollen prick. I searched for her hole and found it without trouble. I tried to push it in and got the head in when I felt an obstruction. But I didn't have a chance to get any further when I came off.
I hated to make a mess for her to clean up but I heard her go to the bathroom after I returned to my own room. My father had long ago given me the ten minute lecture on how a woman gets knocked up and I knew if Wendy got pregnant, it would be disastrous. I'd heard some of my school buddies talking about a service station in town that had a coin operated machine that dispensed rubber prophylactics in the men's room. I got some before trying to get into Wendy again. I knew that Wendy should have known that she could get pregnant and I could only conclude that she was so worked up herself that night that she had gotten reckless.
Wendy had grown out of her old nightgowns and Mom was letting her choose her own. They were more transparent and daring than the old ones and although she kept up her pretense of being asleep when I was at her, she'd let me see her in them and I couldn't stay away from her.
The next time I tried to screw her, I put a rubber on and so that she would know that it was safe, I took her limp hand and closed it around my cock so she could feel it. Then I opened her legs and tried again. I got in a little further this time and when I stripped off the rubber afterwards, there was a trace of blood on the tip. Twice more I tried on different nights before I got it all the way in and each time there was blood. After that it was easy and I could get relief and without making a mess for her. Never did she give up the pretense of sleep and there was little change in her behavior towards me during the day.
I got to know that she wanted me to visit her most at certain times of the month and after she'd have a date with some heavy necking. I began going out myself on dates and I seemed to have gotten a reputation as an exceptionally smooth and exciting dancer. I got ahold of a magazine my mother had hidden under her mattress and among some sex stories I found in it, there was an article about how a woman-likes to be kissed. The next date I took out, I took her parking and tried some of the tricks I'd read about. Inside of an hour, the girl was half naked in my arms and panting with passion. I hadn't brought any rubbers with me and she wouldn't let me screw her, but it wasn't for lack of desire.
I didn't need Wendy any more, but I guess she needed me. She kept sending me signals with her nightgowns and I'd slip in to her when I could. But once in a while she'd catch me after I'd laid a girl and I couldn't get it up again. I loved my sister and continued screw her because I thought she wanted me to.
It didn't take long for the word to get around what a lover I was, I guess. I'd go stag to a dance and the girls would put themselves in my way so I'd be almost stumbling over them. When I'd dance with them, they sagged into me so that it almost seemed they wanted me to screw them on the dance floor. And if I asked to take one of them home, she'd say yes almost before I finished asking her. I guess I got pretty conceited. But I never got to the point where I treated a girl anything less than a queen. I never lied to a girl or told her I loved her just to get into her pants. But I never went steady with anyone and I got my come uppance when I was drafted into the Army. World War II had begun.
CHAPTER TWO
Playing the field like I was, I didn't keep in touch with the girls I knew like some of the other guys did. So when I got my first leave about eight months after I was drafted, I got home and found myself high and dry. The weekly dances I used to go to had been stopped for the duration because people couldn't get gasoline to drive to them. I had been shipped from base to base without completing my basic training and never had a chance to get acquainted with any girls and I had been without a loving for eight months. My sister Wendy was almost as bad off because there were no boys left. I was home on what the Army called a "Delay En-route." I was to report to an assembly camp and would be shipped overseas within thirty days. The outlook for me was bleak.
In desperation I took Wendy out and she tried to console me. She even sent signals to me as before and I went to her room, but we were getting too old for the games we used to play in the dark. The last night I was home and I screwed her, she reached her arms up and put them around me while I was pumping away on her. She didn't open her eyes or give any other sign that she was awake ... but it was the only time she let me know that she knew what I was doing.
The first time I raped a girl, I was in Germany. There were strict rules about fraternizing with enemy civilians but the rules were broken right and left. Most of the other guys teamed up with a buddy but I gave up on that after the first time. My buddy got shot and it hit me so bad that I never got another one. It was like getting attached to a dog and then seeing it run over by an automobile. Playing it alone wasn't as safe but it had some compensations.
I found her living in the cellar of a shelled-out farmhouse. I was looking for a place to spend the night and I didn't feel like digging a foxhole. The place looked deserted but I saw fresh tracks leading to a well. I looked the place over carefully, my carbine with safety off and ready. I found a window where I could peer into the cellar. It was nearly dark outside and the window was covered by a piece of cloth inside. But through a small rent in the cloth I could see from a flickering light a blonde headed girl heating something over a charcoal stove. I couldn't see anybody else. I watched her for nearly a half hour before I was satisfied that she was alone.
I made my way to the cellar entrance and descended some stone steps worn smooth from years of use. I lifted the latch of the door at the bottom and pushed. It creaked open and I held my carbine ready as the girl whirled around. She said something like "wer ist?"
I stepped into the light and her eyes widened in fright when she saw my American uniform. I knew from previous encounter like this that they always expected the worst. They expected to be raped and then killed. I was tired, hungry and dirty and right then I wasn't interested in sex. "Do you speak English?" I asked. "A few." she answered.
My German was pretty bad but I said first in English, "Don't be afraid," and then in German, "Haben Sie nicht Angst." (Have you no fear).
She relaxed a little but I could tell she felt far from safe. She looked like she hadn't been eating to share my rations with her. I swung my pack down and dug out two cans of C rations. You couldn't get all the C rations you wanted but you could get plenty of K rations. If we had K rations for breakfast, we could have the C rations for supper.
She fixed her eyes on the two cans and licked her lips. I'll bet the poor kid would have laid for me just to get a meal. "Kochen Sie, bitte." (cook you, please). If I could get her busy heating the food up, maybe she'd relax.
She approached hesitantly and I handed the cans to her. Then I asked her, "Haben Sie einige heiss Wasser?" (Have you any hot water?). I wanted some hot water so I could shave and wash.
"Ja, Soldat," (Yes, soldier,)she said and she picked up a kettle steaming on the stove. I took off my helmet and separated it from the liner to use it for a basin, but when she saw what I intended to do, she took down a basin hanging on the wall. I got out my razor and lathered up my face with soap and while I shaved, she bustled around the stove with some battered pans and pretty soon those C rations started to smell pretty good. I noticed her hands trembling and asked her "Was ist los?" (What is wrong?) I thought she was trembling with fear, but she answered "Ich sehr hungrig" (I very hungry) and then in faulty English "I have much hunger."
So I burst out, "Well for Krisakes, go ahead and eat." But she didn't understand so I said, "Esse ... nun." (Eat ... now). She looked longingly at the pan but she shook her head. She'd wait for me. I hastened through the rest of my washup so she wouldn't have to wait long and then sat down opposite her at a scarred table with three chairs. A candle was the only source of light and it was stuck into the neck of a bottle.
I carried two canteens. One had water and the other always had some kind of booze ... when I could get it. I usually traded my beer ration, when I got it, for cognac or anything else that would concentrate the alcohol more than beer. I hadn't been very lucky lately and all it contained now was wine ... I didn't even know what kind, except that it was red.
I got up to get the canteen and said to the girl, "Ich habe etwas Wein." (I have some wine). When I brought the canteen back to the table and she stopped eating long enough to watch me. I asked her, "Haben Sie zwei Glass?" (Have you two glasses).
She got up and from a shelf against the wall she took down two unmatched glasses and set them on the table. I filled each one of them from the canteen and when I set one of them in front of her she said, "Danke." (Thanks).
I studied her as we ate. Her face was losing the wan, pinched look as the wine brought a flush to her face. She was clean and her yellow hair hung down her back in two braids. Her eyes were blue and were set a trifle deep in their sockets, perhaps because she hadn't had enough to eat. Her skin was pale and drawn a little over the bones in her face which might have been round if she had been fully filled out. She still filled out the embroidered blouse she wore, but you couldn't tell much from the full skirt she had around her hips. She would have been considered pretty by any of my buddies.
I hoped she got the message that I wouldn't be wasting food on somebody I intended to kill. "Wo Lst deine Mutter und Vater?" (Where is your mother and father?) I asked after awhile.
"Todt" (Dead) she answered stonily. So her mother and father were both dead ... and this kid couldn't be much over sixteen.
"Haben Sie einige Bruder ... oder Schwester?" (Have you any brother or sisters?) I didn't understand all of her reply but I gathered that she had no sisters and that she had two brothers but one was dead and she didn't know if the other was dead or not. No wonder she never smiled ... especially in the presence of an enemy that might have killed them. "It's a tough war, liebchen." (dear) I said. She seemed to understand the sympathy
"Wie heissen Sie?" (How called you) she asked.
"Mike" I answered. "Und Sie?" (And you?) I asked.
"Helga" she answered.
I had a couple of chocolate bars in my pack and I shared one with her for dessert. She hesitated before eating it and she said something about saving it for tomorrow. But I was planning to leave her some of my rations anyway, so I urged her to eat it.
I hadn't had a girl in my arms since I left France and I had a lot of affection piled up in me. Not just sex. This kid was having a hard time just staying alive and I wondered how long it had been since anybody had spoken a kind word to her. I wanted to hold her in my arms and loved and comfort her a little.
When she stood up to clear the table, I rose and helped her. We had a language barrier that didn't help me to get to her, but I wondered if I could get her to let me hold and kiss her. I was standing by the table with the candle on it when she said in English, "Time for bed," and she snuffed out the candle with an expert pinch of her fingers. I felt her brush by and I reached out and took her by the shoulders. I felt her stiffen immediately with resistance.
I held her firmly and began to talk. I had no plan in mind and I don't know how much of it she understood. I was just speaking my mind. "Honey, we might both be dead by this time next week ... and I don't want to hurt you ... you've been hurt enough. I'd just like to hold you in my arms and protect you a little while. Why can't we act like two human beings instead of as enemies?"
I never thought of myself as a salesman, especially with a language handicap, but I felt her resistance weakening. Her shoulders were not so stiff and she seemed almost ready to come into my arms. "I wish I could take you with me ... so I could be sure you wouldn't go hungry ... and keep somebody else from doing something nasty to you. But I'll have to leave you in the morning and all I can take with me will be a memory of you."
I don't know what it was ... maybe something in my voice ... or maybe she was thinking of the food I'd given her when she was hungry ... or everything she had lost. Anyway, she began to cry and I drew her to me and she sobbed against my chest. I patted her shoulder gently and said, "Don't cry, liebchen." I couldn't see her face in the darkness but I patted her hair and kissed the top of her head as I tried to comfort her. Her sobs began to die down and after awhile she was quiet. I kissed her cheek and I could taste the salt of her tears. She didn't draw away so I searched and found her lips. I kissed her gently and I don't know if it was lack of feeling or lack of experience, but there was no response in them. We stood there for long minutes. I was grateful just to have her in my arms. Her arms had come around my waist so I had some idea that she wasn't just submitting herself to me. I wanted a place where we could sit down together, but a cot that she must have used for sleeping was the only thing I could think of. I urged her toward it with my arm around her and she came reluctantly. I drew her down beside me and I couldn't understand her reluctance until it dawned on me that maybe she thought I had some other use in mind for the cot. Well, the thought hadn't been in mind before, but it was now. She was reluctant, but she had come.
The only thing that made combat bearable for me was the resignation that I'd catch a bullet sooner or later, and I could only hope that the end would come swiftly and I wouldn't be left to die someplace slowly and painfully. Now this thought returned suddenly. "Helga, honey, I might catch a bullet tomorrow and you may starve to death next week ... and it won't matter to either of us what happened here tonight. So let's live a little tonight."
I tried to push her gently back on the bed and when she resisted, I said as gently as I could, "Bite."
"Please." I repeated in English. She lay back slowly, unwillingly. I did everything I could to show her that I didn't want to hurt her but that my need was great.
If she was going to let me lay her, I wanted to give her as much time to adjust as possible. I used every skill I might have had as a lover to arouse her. But merely kissing wasn't doing it. I got into her blouse and at her young breasts and the first inkling of any success was when her little nipples began to stand out after I kissed them. Then I noticed shortly afterwards that her lips were softening when I kissed them. Encouraged. I dropped my hand to the hem of her skirt and began caressing her knees, gradually working my way up her thigh. And then it seemed her defenses crumbled altogether. Her arms came around my neck and she pressed me to her bosom. Her breath began to come deeply as my fingers approached the patch of down at the junction of her legs. When I reached the first little strands of hair, her legs were coming apart and she was all moist. She wasn't wearing anything under the skirt which wasn't surprising from the shortages in Germany at this stage of the war.
She was willing to receive me when I knelt between her legs and I entered without difficulty. I wondered briefly how she had lost her virginity at such an early age. It had been months since I'd had a woman and I tried to hold back so that Helga would get her satisfaction. But she almost spoiled it by showing unexpected passion that aroused me. She began to make little whimpering cries and once she cried "Lieber Schatz. . . " (Dear treasure) Finally, I could hold back no longer and I groaned "I'm coming" and she must have understood because she raised her knees into the eair and strained to reach her climax. She began to shudder just as I reached my happy moment and I kept going as long as I could afterwards to finish Helga off.
I didn't want her to feel ashamed or anything so I tried to show her I appreciated what she had done for me. I whispered, "Gut Fraulein" (Good Girl) and kissed her eyes and cheeks with little pecks. We couldn't see each other in the darkness but she returned my caresses by rubbing my cheek with hers.
I shared her cot with her that night and slept so soundly that Helga had awakened and dressed before I awoke the next morning. The first thing my eye lit on was my carbine lying against the rough stone wall of the cellar. She could have shot me with it and taken everything I had.
The K rations had a pretty good breakfast of ham and eggs put up in a little can. I showed Helga how to warm it up in some hot water, and then use the same hot water to make coffee out of the envelope of powdered coffee. I didn't smoke so I gave her the cigarettes in mine and tried to tell her she should try to trade them for food. Before I left, I gave her all my C rations and all of the K rations except three that I kept for myself. I also gave her two packs of cigarettes I kept for trading purposes and my last bar of candy. I was going to pour the remains of the wine into a bottle for her when she stopped me. "Nein" (No) she said. "Es ist genug." (It is enough) She thought I'd given her enough.
My pack was a lot lighter than it had been when I shouldered it and then turned to say goodbye to Helga. The stony hopeless look was gone from her eyes. When I kissed her, she hugged me briefly and my last words were, "Auf wiedersehen, liebchen." (Until we meet again, dear) When the food's all gone, go to the American Military Police ... Amer-ikaner Polietzei soldaten. Maybe they can help you." And her last words were, "Goot American. Goot bye."
I thought about this girl for a long time afterwards. She was the second girl to have given herself to me under extremely difficult conditions. The strange part was that as far as I could see, all I had done was to be gentle and kind to them. Their own passions were traitors to them. It occurred to me that it might be possible to make nearly any woman yield to me if I arranged conditions as favorable as possible ahead of time.
One of the unfavorable conditions that must bother them more than anything else was the possibility of getting pregnant. I found that there was a simple operation that could make me sterile. I had it done by a French doctor while I was waiting to be shipped back to the states at the end of the war. It was about the only time I shed any blood in all the time I had been in Europe.
CHAPTER THREE
Raping women isn't exactly the safest of hobbies. I've often searched my soul for reasons why I took it up. After all, I had plenty of evidence that I could get all the women I wanted without resorting to rape. The only thing I can think of that would be close to an honest answer is that it offered a challenge. What could be more frightening to a woman than to wake up in the middle of the night to find a strange man in her room? The challenge was to get this frightened woman to more or less give herself to me. What could induce a woman to yield under such conditions?
Safety seemed to be the first thing. If she could be made to feel safe from physical harm, safe from becoming pregnant, safe from getting caught, and safe from being found out, it would remove most of her reluctance. If I could remove most of her fears, that wouldn't necessarily make her willing. But if her passion could be aroused by sex play, she might become not only willing but eager. There might even be some women with repressed desires that they hardly dared to admit to themselves.
What women were least-likely to object to being raped under the conditions I hoped to set up? The answer was obvious-women who had been married before ... widows and divorcees. Most cities and towns had provided me with a ready-made list of widows. They had erected an honor roll of men who had lost their lives in the service. It was a simple matter to screen them to eliminate the ones who had not been married. I also eliminated all those who had children living at home. Of the remainder I eliminated all widows who had dogs in the house. There were enough left to keep me occupied for months.
One of the first things I did was to buy a couple of war surplus green air force tops. They were made of durable nylon, they fit well, they were a dark color so that they wouldn't be readily visible in the dark, they had pockets to carry things in convenient places, and wearing nothing underneath I could get naked in a matter of seconds. A small bag and an electric torch completed my outfit. I carried a few tools and other things in the bag and I modified the torch so that it could serve as a faint source of light, like a night light. I carried a plastic flask filled with a sweet, flavored brandy in one of the pockets of the top, and a number of women's nylon stockings in another.
I had to become an expert on locks, doors, and windows so that I could get into houses. Some of the doors were hung with the hinge pins on the outside and could be opened by removing the pins. Some doors had jalousie slats and these could be opened by removing one of the slats, cutting the screen inside and unlocking the door. I found that some real estate people had master keys that fit the locks of a large number of houses. I broke in and made a wax impression of one of these keys and made a duplicate. I didn't want to steal the key itself because it would tip them off what to look out for.
At last I thought I was ready. I'd found a widow living alone, apparently comfortable enough financially that she didn't need to work. She was home most of the day and she was dated at uneven intervals by two boyfriends. She looked a couple of years older than me but she was built well and not bad looking. I toyed with the notion of gaining entry during the day while she was out and hiding in the house until she came home ... but gave it up until I had gotten more experience.
I chose one o'clock in the morning to make my forays. This is late enough so there are not many people on the streets, but early enough so as not to appear suspicious to a cruising police car. I went around to the back of the house and tried the back door. It was unlocked. I was to find out that a surprising number of people left their doors unlocked.
I found myself in the kitchen. My rubber soled shoes squeaked slightly as I walked across the tiled floor to an open door. It led to a dining area combined with a living room. There was another open door in the kitchen and this was the one I wanted. It led to a kind of short hallway with the bathrooms opening onto it. I put the mask over the flashlight so that it made only a glow. Quietly I went to one of the open doors and looked in.
I hit the right one right off the bat. She was lying on her side in a big double bed with her back to me. I walked over and sat down on the bed beside her. I'd puzzled out how I was going to wake them days before. I decided against feeling them while asleep like I had my sister because they were-likely to be afraid as soon as they woke up. I waited to see if the light and my sitting on the bed would wake her. I waited several minutes and at last I held the light so that it shone in her face.
She sighed and rolled onto her back. I could see the straps of a night gown on her shoulders and I was glad I wouldn't have to contend with a pair of pajamas. I continued to hold the light in her face while I studied her. She had no lipstick on and her smooth skin gleamed faintly. Her brown hair was in curly disarray on the pillow and her dark, brown lashes made two crescents on her cheeks. I studied her lips. They curved gently, the lower one being fuller than the top one but the top one protruded a little making a very kissable combination I thought. I leaned down and kissed her gently and briefly.
Her eyes flew open and I held the light so that she could see me and I smiled at her." You're a handsome woman. What's your name?" There was a good chance that I was going to run into some hysterical women and I felt that if they had enough wits about them to tell me their names, that I wouldn't have to worry about it.
"Dorothy" she said. "What're you doing here? What do you want?" She held the blankets tightly to her chin. There wasn't any fear in her eyes ... just sleepy puzzlement.
"I want to make love to you." I said.
"You want to what? Are you some kind of nut?" She was waking up fast.
"I said I wanted to make love to you. I don't want to hurt you, but one way or another, I'm going to make love to you." I said gently.
"You mean you're going to rape me?" she asked and the first gleam of fear appeared in her eyes.
"That's a nasty word and I'm glad you were the one that said it." I told her. "I don't want to get violent with you. If I have to, I'll tie you to the bed, and if you make a lot of noise, I'll put adhesive tape over your mouth. But I'd rather not do all that."
"You expect me to lay here and let you do what you want with me?" she asked. "Yes." I said.
"Suppose I scream?" she said after a silence.
"I said I didn't want to hurt you, but don't think I wouldn't belt you a good one if you did anything that foolish." I warned. I waited to give her a chance to think, and then I said, "What's it going to be? Am I going to have to tie you?"
"I'll turn you in to the cops afterwards." It was the first hint that I wouldn't have to tie her.
"It wouldn't do you any good. They give you a medical examen as part of the proof that you really have been raped ... to see if there's any live sperm in you. I'm sterile so they won't find any sperm and they'll think you're lying. They'll have a field day with you ... accuse you of being some kind of kook who wants some sex publicity." I wondered if I had laid it on too thick.
She looked at me in silence for a minute. The fear had gone out of her eyes. "Are you really sterile?" she asked at last.
"Yes. I am. It's the only reason why I can do this without bothering to wear a mask. I'm banking on you that you won't go to the police." I assured her.
I set the flashlight on the floor and then leaned over to kiss her again. She seemed surprised. Her eyes remained open while my lips caressed hers gently. "What's the matter?" I asked.
"I didn't expect you to kiss me" she said.
"Didn't I tell you I wanted to make love to you?" I asked with a chuckle.
"I thought all you wanted to do was ... something else," she answered.
I bent to her lips again and this time the kiss was longer, but still gentle. I followed it with another and another, each one a little longer than the last. Her arms came up from under the blanket and wound around my neck. I pulled her into my arms so that her breasts pushed into my chest and only her filmy negligee and my top was between us. When my kisses were lasting a long time, I began to taper them off with shorter ones until my lips were barely touching hers. Then I began to tease and tickle them by brushing them back and forth. She held then limp and once in a while I'd sort of pick up one of her lips between the two of mine. Her grip around my neck began to tighten so I kissed her hard and passionately.
She was all woman. That near naked body of hers in my arms was getting my peter so hard and stiff that it was uncomfortable in the close fitting top. I pulled one arm from under her and felt for her breast. It was full but neither firm nor soft. It felt as though it was swelling up in my hand and the nipple started to rise. I stopped kissing her and laid my cheek next to hers with my eyes closed.
"I'm all excited." she whispered. "Do you want to get in bed with me?"
I sat up and ran the zipper down the front of the top. I pulled off my shoes and socks and then pulled off the top. I was stark naked in a few seconds. She made room for me and held the blanket and sheet up so that I could slide in next to her. I rolled over so that I was leaning on my elbows on either side of her and half on top of her. I went back to kissing her again and her hands began to roam over my back. She was soft and comfortable feeling in my arms and her lips were exciting to me, sensually soft and moving with passion under mine.
One of her hands dropped down of my back and stole under the covers until it found my peter. She began to fondle it and my balls underneath. I was getting so worked up I was going to have to put it in soon. I began to tickle her lips with my tongue and she started to squirm against me. I pulled her gown up and she guided my peter towards her pussy. I got up on my knees and she opened her legs. I knelt between them and I felt my peter sliding in as I sank down on her. She must have been boiling hot. She hooked my thighs with the backs of her heels and tried to help me stroke into her by pulling at my back. I didn't have to kiss her any more ... she had her lips glued to my mouth and she wouldn't let loose. She was beginning to make noises in her throat and I was getting ready to come when she began shivering and shuddering, not continuously but in bursts or waves. She was clawing at my back and I began squirting into her. I pounded the hell out of her and she took it as though it was pleasant.
Suddenly I was all shot. I didn't have the strength to move. I lay there on her panting to get my breath back. She was panting, too. She felt so good I hated to move but I'm no featherweight and I must have been getting heavy on her. I made as if to back off her, but she put her arms around me and said, "Not yet. Wait until I can't feel you any more.'; t
I kissed her cheek and she moved her head so I could reach her ear. I nibbled the lobe of it and she squirmed slightly under me. Then I slid my lips down to her neck and one of her hands came up to my head. "That feels so good," she murmured.
I couldn't lay there all night, so after she was quiet for awhile, I made another attempt to get of her and she didn't stop me this time. I kicked the blankets back so I wouldn't soil them and lay on my back beside her. She took one of my hands and held it to her breast. "I never thought I'd enjoy getting raped," she said.
"You keep calling it rape. I say I made love to you." I protested. "Only the cops would call it rape."
"I won't tell on you," she said softly.
I turned my head to look at her. She was on her side hugging my arm to her, her negligee up around her waist. I noticed for the first time that she had brown eyes, and they were soft, almost like a puppy's, as they looked at me. I had my first good look at her figure. She was slightly heavy in the thighs but the rest of her more than made up for the defect. My hand was nestled between two of the finest tits I'd ever seen, large, but not so large as to make her seem deformed by them. Her waist and legs curved into her hips without an unsightly hollow or bulge.
"You've got a beautiful figure." I commented.
She looked down at herself, and then dropping my hand, she worked her gown up over her head and then resumed her position with my hand now between her naked breasts. "Is that better?" she asked.
I had to grin. This was the woman with the fear in her eyes when she asked if I intended to rape her.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"You are." I said still grinning. "You're the one that didn't want me to make love to you." I released my hand from her and rolled to my feet.
"Where are you going?" she asked with a touch of anxiety, I thought.
"It's time I got out of here." I said.
"You don't have to leave so soon. You might get caught out on the streets. Go clean up in the bathroom and come on back for awhile," she suggested.
Boy, this was a switch. But she had a point. I hadn't thought about being picked up afterwards. "Okay, I'll take you up on it." I said.
I had a shower and came back to find her lying on her back, stark naked and looking up at the ceiling. I kissed her once before lying down beside her.
"My turn to wash up," and she got to her feet. I watched the cheeks of her fanny flex as she walked to the door. I wondered while she was gone how a widow as attractive as this one could stay unmarried for long.
When she came back, she lay down on her side facing me and once again hugged my arm to her. "What's your name?" she asked.
I shook my head. "I can't tell you."
"Why not? I promised I wouldn't tell," she said.
"That's the way you feel now. You might not feel that way next week ... or next month ... or next year. I could be sent up for a long time for a little mistake like that," I told her.
She thought a minute and suppose decided not to pursue that any further. "Why did you do it? Why did you break in? You could have ... gotten to me in a legal way if you wanted me. You're nice looking and I like you now."
"It's my own kick." I said. "It's like a challenge," and then to stop further questions, I began to kiss her. I wondered if those two guys she dated ever gave her a loving. She sure acted like she was hungry for it.
After awhile, she asked, "Am I going to see you again?"
"Not very like" I said. This was another thing I hadn't anticipated.
"Not ever? Wouldn't you want to rape ... I mean make love ... to me again?" she asked.
"Sure I'd like to make love to you again." I agreed. "But if I agreed to show up here a second time, I might walk right into a police trap." I shook my head. "Like I said before, maybe I could trust you today, but could I trust you tomorrow?" I didn't say anything, but I had it in mind that I might visit her in the night sometime. She was a luscious woman.
"How long can you stay, tonight?" she asked.
"Maybe until daylight." I thought it would be safe by that time.
"I'll make breakfast for you if you'll stay a little longer," she offered.
She looked as though she was going to cry and I couldn't understand it. "Why do you want me to stay around?" I asked her.
She cast those soft brown eyes down and said, "Nobody's ever made love to me just the way you did before ... and I was hoping you'd love me at least once more ... before you had to leave."
I couldn't help it. I took her into my arms and kissed her and agreed to stay for breakfast. There'd be the prying eyes of the neighbors to risk but she stood to risk far more if they suspected I'd spent the night with her.
I put out the flashlight and she fell asleep in my arms. I woke later than I intended the next morning and she woke up, too. She looked a little bewildered at first when she first looked at me, but then she smiled and kissed me. "Make love to me like you did last night ... please," she begged.
It was too easy. It was so apparent that she was enjoying my kisses and other caresses that I was tempted to have a long affair with her. I took a shower again afterwards and checked myself in the mirror. I always shaved and brushed my teeth just before going out so as not to offend my victims. I still appeared clean shaven.
She really laid out a breakfast for me. There was fruit juice, a half a grapefruit, sausage links and eggs, toast with jelly, and coffee. She watched me as I ate. If she ever saw me again I'm sure she'd recognize me in an instant.
I hoped she wouldn't get too emotional when it was time for me to go. I held her in my arms for long minutes just inside the door, kissing her. At last I said "Goodbye."
"Come again ... any way you want ... through the door or window ... but come again," she whispered.
I was glad to see her eyes were dry. You can't fall in love in a few hours, thank God. I never saw her again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Not all of the widows I raped were as passionate and hungry for love as Dorothy was, but I was surprised at the number that needed love and consolation. Some were glad to get it the way I offered because their friends and relatives expected a certain period of mourning. They were expected to wear black and deny themselves love and sex for a year or more at the very time they needed love and comfort. Nobody needed to know what happened with me and I could usually talk them out of any feelings of guilt towards their late husbands.
I was following the divorce notices in the paper to compile a list of divorcees. There had been a certain sameness to most of the widows I had raped and I was looking for some variety. And then I fell into something different with a vengeance.
The night was warm, a trifle too warm for the top I was wearing. I had it unzipped down my chest to get a little air. I'd staked out a house that had a cute blonde widow living in it. As far as I could determine, she worked in an office somewhere downtown. She always left the house at the same time every morning dressed in a suit, and came home about the same time every night. She almost never went out in the evenings. Her habits seemed as regular as clockwork. I knew she had gone to bed about ten o'clock. She had a cat that I'd have to watch out that I didn't stumble over.
Her door was locked but one of my master keys fit it and I entered without having to make any noise. The back door entered in the dining area of a living-dining room next to a door that led to the kitchen. My dimmed light showed some doors in a small alcove off the living room and I knew from past experience that these would be the bathroom and bedrooms. I tried to locate the cat but there wasn't a sign of it. I set my bag down near the door and walked stealthily into the alcove. The bathroom door was open and so was one of the bedroom doors. But she wasn't in the bedroom that was open. This was one chick who closed and locked doors. I hoped that her bedroom door was only closed, not locked.
I tried the knob and the latch clicked. It swung open silently ... and there she was sitting bolt upright in the middle of the bed, wide awake. What a light sleeper.
"Good morning." I said. A commonplace remark, I found, tended to slow down panic.
"What ... what do you want? What are you doing here?" These women must have gone to the same school and learned the same two sentences to say when a strange man entered their rooms in the middle of the night.
"I'm the milkman." I joked. "I just wanted to find out how many quarts you wanted today."
She shook her head. "I don't have a milkman."
She didn't look as though she was going hysterical on me but I asked anyway, "What's your name?"
"What's that got to do with milk?" she answered.
I sharpened up. This wasn't the kind of reply I expected. It didn't even make sense if she didn't have a milk man. I took a few steps toward the bed and asked her again, "What's your first name?"
"Helen. But I don't see ... " she said.
Maybe she wasn't fully awake yet. I waved the light in front of her eyes. They moved and the pupils contracted. That seemed normal enough.
"What do you want? If it's money, I've got only a few dollars in my purse," she said. I was relieved. She was beginning to make sense.
"I don't want your money. I want to make love to you." I was getting into a routine pitch.
"What do you mean, you want to make love to me? I don't even know you," she shook her head.
Here we go again. She didn't seem to be aware of the situation. It was as though I'd just met her someplace in a park and asked her for a date. She was holding a sheet up to her chin which was normal enough for the situation but what was coming out of her mouth didn't match.
I sat down on the bed beside her and held the light so she could see me. "Are you afraid of me, Helen?" I asked. Her eyes were blue and they looked out at me from under light brown brows. The lashes, though long, were light brown, too. They gave her eyes an almost luminous look. Her face was oval with a thin, straight nose poised over archery-bowed lips. I watched them for her answer.
"No, I don't think so," she replied after studying me for a few seconds.
"Then why won't you let me make love to you?" I asked. I felt as though I had to be patient as with a small child.
"Because I don't know you," she said simply.
"How would you stop me if I tried to make love to you now?" I asked.
She seemed lost for an answer. She began to look around as though aware for the first time that there was a strange man in her bedroom. "I don't know" she said finally. She seemed ashamed ... as though she had muffed a question in school.
"Will I have to tie you up to make love to you, Helen?" I asked next. I'd never run into anything like this before and I had to play it by ear. I'd never had to tie a woman before and I hated to feel that it was necessary now. But I had a hunch this was going to be the first. If I could get her aroused after I tied her, I could untie her before I screwed her.
She shook her head. "I can't let you make love to me when I don't know you," she protested.
I reached out and tried to draw her to me so that I could kiss her. but she resisted. I released her and she continued to sit in the bed. I unbuttoned one of the pockets in my top and removed a handful of nylon stockings. "Lie down." I commanded and obediently she lay back. I tied the stocking to one wrist and the other end to the bed post. I went to the other side and did the same with her other wrist. She made no struggle. Then I flung the sheet back to tie her feet. She didn't have a thing on and I gasped in astonishment. But I tied her feet as I had tied her hands so that she lay on the bed spread-eagled.
I tried to be gentle with her as I always was, but as soon as I tried to kiss her, she began to cry. It was a soft sobbing, as though at the memory of an old sorrow. She would turn her head away if I tried to kiss her lips. She'd keep it turned if I kissed her cheek, but if I tried to kiss her on the lips again she would turn it the other way. If I was going to kiss her on the lips, I would have to hold her head immobile. I couldn't bring myself to use this force.
I turned my attention to her breasts. If I could arouse her by stimulating her sensitive spots, I might yet accomplish my purpose. She had beautifully formed tits. They jutted up from her chest in slightly flattened globes. The nipples were flat in the tops. I dropped my lips to them and sucked one of them into my mouth. I teased it with my tongue ... but there was no response.
I tried for almost an hour to arouse some response in her. It was useless. She didn't struggle in her bonds and I had the feeling I could get on her and screw her, but she'd continue to sob. I couldn't do it.
I went around untying her and said, "All right, Helen. I won't make love to you if you don't want me to."
Her sobs died away and when she was free she sat up again, watching me. I stuffed the stockings back into the pocket. Her eyes were red and swollen so I asked her. "Where do you keep your handkerchiefs?"
"In the top drawer over there" she answered.
I opened the drawer she indicated and picked out the largest of a collection of small, nearly useless handkerchiefs. I handed it to her and she wiped her eyes. I picked up my torch and looked around to see if I was missing anything when Helen spoke.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I'm leaving." I said shortly.
"Don't you want to make love to me?" she asked.
I nearly dropped the flashlight. I set it carefully back down on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I thought you didn't want me to make love to you." I said. Where was this going to end?
"But that was before I got to know you," she explained.
I looked at her. Could this beautiful woman be putting me on? Had she been putting me on all the while? No, that was unlikely. The tears were real. Her lack of passion was real. There was one way to find out if she was putting me on now.
I reached out to draw her into my arms and she came readily, lifting her face to be kissed. I couldn't believe this was the same woman I had been trying to make love to only a few minutes ago. She practically melted into me. Her lips were soft and sweet and she clung to me as if she were afraid I'd slip away. Her naked breasts bored into my chest where I had zipped down my top. After several kisses, she reached inside my top to put one arm around my back. She wasn't putting on an act because I found her nipples hard and erect when I reached up to cup her breasts.
Her passion rose rapidly until she was sobbing again ... but it had a different note to it. Now it was as though I was teasing her with something that had been denied her too long, and she feared I wouldn't let her have it. I disengaged myself from her long enough to remove my top, and then I lay down beside her. She squirmed up against me and threw one leg over my thighs. She was open to me and I searched around for her hairy mouthed opening, guiding my tool with one hand. She was fairly dripping with juice, but I was having trouble gaining an entrance. She hadn't been used so long, I suppose, that she had gotten tightened up. I finally rolled her onto her back and knelt between her knees. That fooling around had gotten her so worked up that when I did manage to get into her, she whimpered and began to shudder under me and I knew she was coming off.
I was hoping that she'd rise up again and come a second time while I worked for my satisfaction, but I rested in her a few minutes while I kissed her hair, her eyes, her cheek, and her ear. Then I whispered, "Do you think you could go again?"
She stirred under me and answered, "It still feels good. Try it."
I began to stroke again, but to arouse her without pushing myself to my own climax, I rested between strokes with my peter almost completely withdrawn. Then she surprised me by raising her bent knees up off the bed and fastening her lips to mine. I began to stroke without interruption. She began to rake my back with her fingernails and I knew it wouldn't be long before I was going to shoot. She started to sob in her throat and she would catch her breath and strain. Just as I began to come and was thrusting at her with all my might, she broke into shudders and shivers once more. I kept bounding at her until I began to go soft and then lay on her quietly.
It was she who stirred a few moments later and kissed my cheek and stroked my hair. "First time in more than two years," she sighed. "I've needed it so much."
I couldn't figure this chick out. She was beautiful. She shouldn't have any trouble getting dates. But if she hadn't had any nookie in two years, why didn't she let me lay her on my first attempt? Was she nuts or something?
"What's your hang-up, honey?" I murmured.
"I don't know. I've been like this ever since ... my husband was killed," she answered. "Every time I went on a date and a man would try to kiss me, I'd cry ... even though I wanted somebody to love me. And they'd never ask me out a second time. The men in the office are afraid of me ... they think I'm crazy. But it doesn't bother me at work."
"But you let me make love to you the second time." I pointed out. "How come it was all right the second time, but not the first?"
She shook her head. "I don't know I didn't know what to expect from you the first time. But when you turned me loose ... without forcing me ... I knew you wouldn't force me the second time ... and then I wanted you to."
It would take a psychiatrist to figure this one out. I didn't pretend to understand what was going on but she seemed normal enough now. I rolled off her and stood up. "I'm going to clean up in your bathroom." I told her.
"There's some clean towels in the cabinet under the wash bowl," she offered.
When I came back and began to put on my top, she said, "Will you wait until I come back ... and talk to me a little? I'll make you some coffee." She went into the bathroom and I zipped up my top. I wonder what she wants to talk about.
She was still naked when she came back but she went to a closet and took out a housecoat which she put on. She slipped her feet into a pair of slippers and then said, "Come on out into the kitchen."
She led the way and snapped on a light. She went to the single window and drew the shade. "No need to let the neighbors know I'm entertaining someone at this hour," she said.
She set a kettle of water to heat and laid out two cups and saucers. She sat down opposite me while the water heated and asked, "What's your name?"
"Call me Tom." I said with a grin. "I'm out like a torn cat ... I might as well have the name."
"You're nice looking ... you shouldn't have to do ... this sort of thing." she said after a slight smile at my remark.
"I know it." I said.
"Then why ... ? " she began as though puzzled.
"Maybe it's my hang-up." I said. I had to be careful not to spill too much information to gals like this who were curious. Was that why she wanted to talk?
She looked at me in silence for several seconds. Maybe she was thinking I was just as kooky as she was. She'd either become afraid or feel a certain kinship with me. I thought.
"Do you think I'm ... attractive?" she asked at last. She wasn't going to run scared, I could see. But what did she have in mind with a question like that?
"Hell, yes. Do you think I'd go to all this trouble and risk if I didn't think you were attractive?" I asked her.
"Do you think ... other men would find me attractive?" she asked.
"I suppose so. You've got a beautiful figure ... and a pretty face. And you've even got some brains. The only guys who wouldn't find you attractive might be a few who weren't as smart as you are ... but that wouldn't be because they didn't find you physically attractive." I answered. She really was a dish sitting there in that flowered housecoat that gaped open a little at the neck so that I could see the upper part of the crevice between her breasts.
She hesitated and then said, "I think something changed in me tonight. I ... I don't think I'd cry any more if a man tried to kiss me. But I don't know how to get someone to try a second time. I can't just tell them I've changed and wouldn't they ask me out again. And I want someone to love me so much. I'd ask you, but I have a feeling I'm never going to see you again."
I looked into her blue eyes, still a little red and swollen from her crying earlier, and I felt sorry for her. She was right. She'd probably never see me again, but I wanted to help her if I could. How could she get a second chance? Then I had an idea.
"What kind of work do you do?" I asked.
"I'm a bookkeeper," she said.
"Why don't you try to find another job?" I suggested. "A place where they don't know you and you can start fresh. You won't have to work there long before somebody'll be asking you for a date ... especially when they find out you don't have a husband." The water began to boil on the stove and she rose to make the coffee.
"If somebody asked me out and tried to kiss me ... and I didn't cry ... how far should I let him go to be sure he'd ask me again?" she asked from the stove.
"If you want him to ask you to marry you someday, don't let him do more than kiss you goodnight on the first date." I said. "He'll want more and he'll ask you again to get more. And don't let him go to bed with you before you're engaged and have a ring to prove it. You'll be getting dates with guys who'll just want to go to bed with you ... and they'll ask you because you've been married before, and they'll think you're hungry for it. But you'd be foolish to mess around in the office to satisfy yourself. You're smart enough to figure out how to get what you want ... after you get a second chance." I said. It looked to me like she had lost confidence in herself as a result of her hang-up.
She poured the coffee and then sat down again at the table. "How many women have you ... done this to?" she asked.
The sudden change in the line of her questions caught me flatfooted. "I don't know. I never thought about it before." I answered. Then I thought back. I'd been active at it for nearly three years now. It took me about two weeks to check out a victim so this was roughly twenty five a year ... nearly seventy five women in all. But why should I tell her?
"Has it been more than a dozen?" she asked.
"Why should I tell you?" I asked. "Why do you want to know?"
She cast her eyes down and said, "I wondered if other women were as brazen about it as I was ... laying for you willingly ... and then inviting you afterwards to stay for coffee."
"All right, I'll tell you this much." I said. "I've done this much more than a dozen times and the women have never reported me to the police. Most of them do it willingly after I tell them that they can't get pregnant ... "
"Why can't they?" she interrupted.
"I'm sterile." I said. And then I remembered that I hadn't thought to give her my stock arguments. Her strange behavior had completely sidetracked me. But how come she hadn't been worried about getting pregnant? "Why weren't you worried about getting pregnant?" I asked.
"I'm sterile, too," she answered.
That accounted for it. Then I explained the rest, about the tests that wouldn't show any sperm, and so on. I finished my coffee and prepared to leave. Helen was getting heavy lidded in spite of the coffee but she saw me to the other that I had entered. "How did you get in?" she asked when she saw the door undamaged.
"That's my secret." I laughed. Then I pulled her into my arms to kiss her goodbye and she offered her lips willingly. It was a long, passionate one that I intended to help boost confidence in herself. I followed it with several more, each a little shorter than the last until we were both breathing heavily. Then with my lips against her ear, I said, "You're a lovely woman, Helen. It's hard to say goodbye," and I left.
CHAPTER FIVE
I had thought that my list of eligible victims would get short as I worked my way through it, but if anything, it grew. As time passed and I grew older, my interest widened to include older women without losing my interest in the younger ones. My list now had a large number of divorcees, but I found that I had to let my list "season" before I used it. A widow or divorcee of a few months wasn't ripe for the kind of attention I was ready to give them.
I didn't get to screw every one on my list, either. When I went to check them out, I found some of them couldn't stand the loneliness and became alcoholics. Others tried to satisfy their hunger for love with food ... and got immensely overweight. Some others just didn't appeal to me so I didn't bother with them. The alcoholics I kept away from mostly because they were-likely to talk too much. But I ran into one extremely attractive woman who had an alcohol problem that she'd managed to conceal.
It was nearly accidental. I had learned early to concentrate on addresses in middle and upper class neighborhoods because the women were less willing to let their names appear in the newspapers. I'd noticed that two of the names on my list were on the same street, and when I checked them out, found that they were almost across the street from each other. I couldn't work both of them because of the risk. So I selected one of them at random.
It was a pretty good neighborhood with homes ranging up to sixty thousand dollars, I guessed. The one I selected wasn't far from the other on my list and so it wasn't surprising that I had a chance to see both occupants in my investigations. When I saw the other woman, I immediately changed my mind about which house I would concentrate on. The woman came out one morning and stepped into an expensive sedan parked in a circular driveway in front of the door. She wore high heels, and a green, carefully tailored suit. Her hair was ash blonde and piled up in swirls on the top of her head. It was hard to tell her age at the distance but she didn't look any older than I was. Makeup couldn't account entirely for the beauty of her face, the prominent cheek bones, the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw, the widely spaced eyes, and what appeared to be a flawless complexion. Not a hair was out of place and she looked as if she had just stepped out of a beauty salon.
She looked so poised, so sophisticated, so queenly in bearing, that I confess that the thought of how she would behave in bed with anyone as common as me was what changed my mind for me. Not exactly the kind of thought I'm proud of, but I was finding out that surface appearances in women just couldn't be relied on to predict their behavior when they were alone with me.
The necessity of earning a living forced me to time my forays for the weekends. I'd picked up an old telephone company truck, one of those green things with a box in the back to carry tools in. I'd also picked up some surplus lineman's tools so that it wasn't hard to stake myself out on a street posing as an installer. I could even get into people's back yards without arousing suspicion so that I could reconnoiter in broad daylight. It wasn't unusual for telephone company men to work after hours on emergency repairs, so people paid me little attention. I had to be careful that my victims didn't get a good look at me or they might recognize me when I entered their rooms.
The ash blonde didn't date once in two weeks. She was a divorcee and sometimes divorcees dated their ex-husbands ... but apparently not this one. She didn't date anybody. She must have worked at a nearby university since I'd noticed a blue, triangular sticker on the bumper of her car for parking lot privileges that said "Staff" in bold black letters. She wasn't a teacher because a little research showed that they had stickers that said "Faculty."
The house wasn't going to be easy to get into. She locked all the doors and my keys didn't fit. The quality of locks and hinges discouraged me from any attempts from that direction. It looked like the only way I could do it was to cut a hole in a wooden door near the lock so that I could reach in and turn the bolt on the inside. There was fortunately a door at some distance from the bedrooms so that the little noise I'd be forced to make would probably go unheard. The landscaping around the house would screen my activities from the eyes of the neighbors.
I broke in Friday night ... or I suppose it would be more proper to say Saturday morning ... it was after midnight. I made more noise than I thought I was going to and several times I stopped, half expecting the lights to come on and I'd have to make a break for it. But finally I got in.
As soon as I entered, I detected a peculiar but familiar odor. It wasn't until I made it into the living room that I identified it. It was the same smell you get when you go into a cocktail lounge. Not the beery smell of a saloon, but the smell of hard liquor. It seemed that the beautiful object of my attention had been bending an elbow that evening. I flashed my light around until I found the way to the bedrooms, a half flight up some steps to some rooms over the garage.
From the length of the hallway, this house seemed to have a lot of bedrooms for only one occupant. There were four doorways, one of which led to a bathroom. The other three went to bedrooms. The first I examined had a bathroom attached, not accessible from the hall. The second bedroom was the one I was looking for. The door was open and I could see her sprawled on the bed in pajamas.
But she wasn't a blonde. She was a short-haired brunette and I wondered for a second if I'd gotten into the wrong house. And then I saw the explanation. On a chest beside the door was the pile of hair sitting on a round wooden ball mounted on a pedestal ... a wig. No wonder her hair always looked coiffed.
But she was still beautiful. She had no makeup on and her skin looked as smooth and flawless from close up as it had at a distance. If anything she looked younger with the short boyish haircut, but less glamorous perhaps. Her pajamas were blue, top and bottom, with white trim. They were made of some silky stuff that clung to her as though they were wet. Boy, was she stacked. She looked like she'd spill out all over the place if I unbuttoned her jacket.
It was hard to tell how much she'd had to drink. She'd turned out all the lights in the house before going to bed, but she was lying on top of the bed, not in it. One corner was turned down as though in preparation but she hadn't taken advantage of it. Her jacket was neatly buttoned up but she could have done that before starting to drink.
I walked over close to the bed and bent down to smell her breath. It reeked of alcohol but she hadn't gotten sick. She breathed deeply but she didn't snore as so many drunks do. She hadn't behaved like an alcoholic when I'd seen her, but I was inclined to take a chance anyway after all the trouble I'd gone to. Besides, this was one of the most luscious looking women I had seen in sometime. If I was going to get past the smell of her breath, though, I'd have to take something. I opened the pocket in my top that had the flask of brandy in it I rarely drank on these forays so I wouldn't offend my victims with my breath, but a slug or two and I wouldn't be able to smell theirs. The cap of the flask was made to form two small cups, each holding two ounces of liquor. I drained one of them twice with the sharp-sweet liquor. Then I turned my attention to the woman.
I thought in this case the best way to awaken her would be to undress her. If I could undress her without awakening her. I wanted to see if I could arouse her in her sleep. I'd never been sure when I used to fondle my sister if she had always been awake or if she had been asleep at first and was so aroused by the time she was awake that she couldn't stop me. I'd also read somewhere that alcohol after a certain point had been reached, reduced a man's potency ... but it didn't bother women that way. It would be interesting to see if a woman under the influence of alcohol could be sexually aroused ... this woman especially.
I didn't need to remove her jacket ... just unbuttoning it would do. I unfastened the buttons one at a time until the jacket slithered aside and those billowing breasts were exposed to my view. She didn't stir once during the procedure. The liqueur I'd drunk was beginning to take effect and I was beginning to feel a little reckless. I wanted to caress those breasts with my hands but I restrained myself with an effort.
The pants to her pajamas were buttoned at one hip and as soon as I released this button, the waist was loose enough to slip over her hips. But lying in them the way she was I'd have a job working them down. Working them down as far as I could in her present position, I found that I could slip them further by rolling her first on one side and then the other. She grumbled something once about it being too early to get up but never woke up completely. Finally they were down on her legs where it was easy to pick them up and slide the flimsy material over her feet.
She must have had quite a load on to take all that handling without walking up. I hoped she wouldn't be so numb that she'd be insensitive to the stimulation I wanted to give her. I knelt beside her and took the nipple of her nearest breast in my mouth and sucked on it. I teased the button of it with my tongue while with one hand I explored the furry haven between her legs. I spread the lips down there apart and began to stroke the inside surfaces with my fingers. The nipple in my mouth began to get hard and after a few minutes, I could feel a slipperiness developing in her pussy. It was beginning to look like she was getting hot but she was showing no signs yet of awakening. Then I found her clitoris. It had been impossible for me to find before but it was erect now. I circled it with my finger and then rotated the loose skin on it to tease it. She stirred for the first time flexing one knee and opening the leg as though to give me better access to her. But she still breathed deeply and steadily. I don't believe she could have been pretending sleep with the alcohol she had in her.
It was getting time for me to try sticking it in. I continued to caress her pussy with one hand while I zipped down my top with the other. I kicked off the loafer type sneakers I was wearing and interrupted my attentions long enough to slip out of the top. I was more naked than she was, now. I pulled one of her legs a little further apart so I'd have more room between her legs and knelt between them. I couldn't get over how similar this situation was to the affair I had with my sister so many years ago. I felt around with my tool to find her opening but I didn't try to put it in right away. I rubbed her with it a little to keep her aroused and make my entrance easier. The thought that I might be able to screw her while asleep was so exciting to me that I was trembling.
Finally I began to work it in moving it in and out, and as my peter got covered with her slippery juice it went in with less and less difficulty. Just as I got it in all the way she sighed and I sank down on her. I rested motionless on her for a minute to see if she was going to wake up. Her breathing wasn't so deep but that could be from my weight on her. Gently, I began to work in and out, gradually increasing the length of my strokes. I felt for one of her breasts and the firm, roundness of it filled my hand. I thumbed the erect nipple and her hands rose from the mattress and crept around my waist. Her head began to move from side to side and then her lips began to search my face. When they found my mouth they fastened themselves to it and her arms tightened around me. She began to squirm under me and I knew she was awake and as thoroughly aroused as any woman I had ever had. Her fingers were kneading the muscles of my back and shoulders. She was breathing deeply but now it was from passion. I was getting ready to shoot when she suddenly wrapped her legs around me and arched her back. Little trembling cries came from her throat as she shivered almost continuously for several seconds. She held me so tight I could hardly move enough to reach my own climax and finish us both off.
Suddenly she went limp under me and I rested quietly on her. Boy, what an unusual piece of ass she was. I waited for her to speak first. What was she going to say? Her arms had been lying limply by her sides but she raised them and put them around me once more.
"I dunno where you came from," she whispered huskily, "but I ... needed ... that ... so ... bad."
She spaced the last few words deliberately for emphasis.
I kissed her cheek. What a completely uninhibited woman. Maybe it was the booze that did it, but she didn't sound very drunk. "When did you realize what I was doing?" I asked.
"Heck, I don't know. I thought I was dreaming I was having the best piece of ass in my life ... and then I realized it was no dream. Hey, who are you, anyway? Did I meet you somewhere and bring you home with me? I can't remember." She wasn't whispering now but her voice was still husky, almost sexually husky, I thought.
I thought I'd let her have it right away and see what happened. "I broke in to rape you." I said.
"You didn't have to go to all that trouble. I'd have left the door unlocked for you." She was still holding me so that I couldn't get off.
"How come?" I asked. She didn't look like a woman who'd have any trouble getting a loving.
"I dunno. Maybe I want it too bad and I scare the men off. I haven't had it in so long, I've started to hit the bottle ... and that's no good." She sighed heavily.
I rubbed her shoulder through the thin pajama tops and the silky material slid around on her skin. It was easy to be affectionate to a woman who soaked it up like this one did. "You mean you could enjoy being raped?"
"What do you mean, rape?" You didn't slam me around ... or tie me up." She sounded as though she was making excuses for me. Then a thought seemed to strike her. "How did you manage to get so far without waking me up?"
"I got you hot in your sleep." I said.
"How felt you up." I said.
She thought for a minute and then said, "Yes, I guess it's possible. I've woke up from a sexy dream and found myself so excited I couldn't go back to sleep again. God, if I only had a husband then."
I knew from my research that she had been divorced almost two years. I also knew her name but I didn't want her to know that I knew it. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Patricia. But call me Pat." Then she turned her head as though she wanted to get a look at me. I raised my head and looked into her eyes. Now that they were open I could see that they were a startling blue, almost violet. "What's yours?"
I grinned and gave my stock reply, "Call me Tom if you want."
"I've gotta get up and take care of myself ... but don't go away. Tommie," she said. I raised myself off her and thought I'd better tell her she didn't need to worry about getting pregnant.
"You won't get pregnant from me." I said. "I've been sterile for years."
"You are?" She had started to roll out of the bed, but now she sat on the edge of it while she turned her violet eyes on me "You're not kidding me?"
'This is the wrong time to be telling a fib like that, isn't it?" I'd met a few women who thought I was telling them I was sterile so I could get to them and have my fun without protection. I'd had to show the tiny scars on my balls to a couple of them.
"Come on in and shower with me," she invited suddenly. "I'll wash you."
The idea sounded exciting. Maybe this opulent woman would let me wash her. "I will if you let me wash you." I said.
She grinned like a kid and said "Okay."
She preceded me out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where she snapped on the light switch. I was glad to see the one window had obscure glass. The tub had a shower enclosure. She slid the door back and dropped a rubber mat into the bottom of the tub so we wouldn't slip. She stepped in and turned on the water at the tub spout, adjusting the temperature until it suited her. She swung a lever and stood up as the shower head sprouted a hard spray. I stepped in with her and she slid the door closed. She reached around my waist and pulled me close to her while the water ran over our bodies. When we were thoroughly wet, she released me and took a bar of soap and a sponge from a niche built into the tiled wall. She soaped the sponge and began soaping me with it starting at my neck while she worked down my chest.
"Turn around," she commanded and she soaped my back. When she got down to washing my peter, the darned thing got hard again. I'd never been able to lay a woman a second time in less than two hours. "Hey Tommie, looka that," she crowed. "Wanna go again?"
"I don't know if I could," I protested. I was afraid it would go soft before I could get it into her.
"Sure you could," she assured me. She was down on one knee holding it in her hand, and then glancing up once at me, she bent her head and slid her mouth over it. No woman had ever done that to me before and I closed my eyes in sheer pleasure at the feel of the warm, wetness of her mouth. Her tongue tickled the ridge around my cock and it went iron hard and twitching. She drew back and said in alarm, "You're not getting ready to come already?"
"Damn close to it." I gasped. I felt a little dizzy and when she rose to her feet, I pulled her into my arms almost as much to steady myself as to give vent to some of my feelings. I kissed her again and again, her wet, willing lips sliding around under mine, while I held her exciting body against me. She gave herself to me with unselfish abandon while the water cascade over up. "Pat ... Pat." I muttered. I was blind and deaf to everything but this lovely woman in my arms with the violet eyes and short hair clinging wetly to her head. She rubbed her cheek against mine as I tried to regain my senses. This episode wasn't going my way at all.
"We could make some nice music together. Tommie." Her husky voice came through to me over the noise of the shower. I had to get a grip on myself.
I pushed myself away from her and said, "My turn to wash you."
She stood there smiling at me as I soaped the sponge and began at her neck. But when I got down to her breasts, my self control began slipping. Her nipples were erect and as the sponge slipped over the sensitive flesh, she closed her eyes and leaned against me. With an effort, I continued my task. I sank to my knees to do her stomach and when I reached her pussy, I couldn't help myself. I wrapped my arms around her hips and buried my face in it. It smelled as clean as the rest of her. Her fingers combed their way through my hair and she said, "Tommie. . . "
I continued soaping her down her legs. I hadn't fully appreciated them before. The skin of her legs and thighs was as smooth and unblemished as the skin on her face. They tapered down to slim ankles and almost tiny feet. When I struggled to my feet, I took her in my arms and said, "You're beautiful."
"It's so nice to hear a man tell me that" she murmured in my ear, her cheek next to mine. "Let's dry off and go back to bed."
I should have gotten out of there, but I was lost. She insisted on drying me off with a huge towel and she gave me goose flesh the way she slid her hand over the muscles of my chest and arms. When she saw the goose flesh, she asked, "Do I do that to you?" She dragged her finger tips lightly over my chest and I shivered.
"Tommie!" she said, and then laughed with delight. Any effects from the drinking she had done seemed to be entirely gone, unless the abandon in her manner was a remnant of it. And she knew how to fan my desire and passion. She got into some black filmy thing that barely covered her and I found myself trying to see her charms through it. And then she led me into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. "Make love to me ... like you did in the shower," she invited.
I sat down beside her, but I made another effort to tear myself away. "It'll be daylight before long and I've got to get out of here," I said.
"Why?" she said. "Why can't you stay until this time tomorrow?"
I had never considered this possibility because of what I thought of danger. But the appeal of the suggestion took a firm hold on me. This woman wouldn't turn me in while I was with her, I told myself.
She must have sensed my indecision. She threw herself at me and with her arms around me she said, "Oh Tommie, I'll do anything for you if you'll stay ... anything."
I remembered how she'd put my peter in her mouth in the shower and my own mouth went dry. Then she interrupted my thoughts with, "If you'll just love me for awhile this weekend, I could go for weeks without drinking." There was something pathetic about what she said and all hesitation in me disappeared. I hugged her to me and stroked her still damp hair.
"All right." I agreed. "But I'm going to end up the penitentiary for doing things like this one of these days."
She hugged me tighter. "I'll never tell," she promised. She allowed herself to sink back on her pillow and I leaned over her on one elbow beside her. Her body was full and soft and her lips were soft and relaxed so that when I kissed her, I had the sensation that I was sinking into her. I was enveloped by her womanly softness. I guess an infant must feel some kind of contented satisfaction like I was feeling when it suckles at its mother's breast.
But this was one woman who could give as much as she took. I got my kicks from most women by arousing them so that they would enjoy what they had always told themselves was disgusting. Pat was unselfish. She was hungry for love but she kissed me as much as I kissed her and it was all I could do to remember to follow the technique that I knew arouse the most passion in her. When she whispered once, "Oh darling, I need you." I felt a tenderness well up inside of me until I thought I'd choke. No woman had ever told me before she needed me.
I was lying there dizzy and almost drunk from her kisses when she whispered to me, "Want me to do something nice for you ... before you put it in?"
I knew what she meant but I said, "You don't have to."
"I know," she said, "But I want to ... for you."
She was willing to do it, not for her own kicks, but for me. Once again I felt the warm wetness of her mouth as it slid over my tool. I could hardly stand the sweet thrill of it and I closed my eyes as my breath hissed between my teeth. Again my peter jumped uncontrollably from the teasing of her tongue. "Stop!" I gasped. If I came off I wouldn't be able to do anything for her.
She recognized the symptoms and stopped immediately. "Do you want to put it in?" she asked as she knelt over me.
I nodded and she lay down beside me after wriggling out of a pair of tiny Bikini panties. She had undone the front of the shortie jacket so that she was as naked as the first time. I knelt again between her legs and this time I slipped into her the first try. My tool was still moist and slippery from her mouth and there was no resistance from its dryness as before. But she must have been hot as a three dollar pistol. Almost immediately she broke into shivers and when I slowed up, she whispered, "Keep going. Don't stop."
She reached her second climax before I reached mine but she patiently bore me until I spent myself into her. We lay there for long minutes until she sighed and said, "I'd give anything if you'd marry me ... or at least see me often."
I couldn't believe she meant what she said, but all I said was, "You wouldn't want a guy like me."
"Maybe a couple years ago I wouldn't," she admitted, "but I've smartened up a lot since then."
"What do you mean, "Smartened up'? " I asked. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had said she had lowered her standards, but I couldn't see how she could have smartened up
"I divorced my husband because he was fooling around with another woman. So what good does it do me? Now I have to earn my own living and I have nobody to love me. I was stupid. But if I ever get a second chance, I'll make my husband so happy that he won't want to leave me. If you were my husband I'd even try to find some women for you once in a while if you wanted a change," she said wistfully.
"But you can't love me." I protested. "You've only known me a couple of hours. It must be the booze talking."
"I'm not drunk ... and I could learn to love you. It would be easy with anybody as gentle ... and affectionate ... as you." She squeezed and patted me on the back before she continued. "Two years is a long time to go without a little love ... when you've had it before."
Of course. This was what I was banking on all along. But this was the first woman I'd run across who needed affection so bad that she was driven to drink when she didn't get it. "I'm sorry Pat, honey. I'll try to love you all you want this weekend." I raised my head and kissed her on the lips. Her violet-blue eyes looked into mine afterwards and I could see them moving over my face as she studied me. Then she pulled my head down and she kissed me, but not an ordinary kiss. Her lips touched mine but in such a way that there were two openings in the corners of her mouth. She drew in her breath so that air was sucked through the corners of her mouth and the flow of it across my lips tickled them. Then abruptly, she pulled my head to close the openings and I felt the suction of her conventional kiss.
I thought I knew all the tricks of making love, but Pat showed me a few new ones that weekend. I knew she was trying to show me what a good wife or companion she could be and it was easy to take. I had slept until nearly noon the next day, but she had me going early in the afternoon. She was wearing skin tight orange slacks and shirt of some stretchable knitted stuff and she might just as well have been naked. I could have told if there had been a postage stamp under it. Her nipples, her navel, and even her pussy were visible. She couldn't have worn it on the street without being arrested, but it sure got me excited. I couldn't keep my hands off her but I guess that was the idea, anyway. I got her in bed before the afternoon was over.
When we went to bed, I set her electric alarm clock for four o'clock. I wanted to be sure it was still dark when I left. But Pat crossed me up. The sun was up when I awoke. I could hear her in some other part of the house. What had happened to the alarm? I looked at it and it was still set for four o'clock. I pulled out the alarm switch and set the alarm for the time indicated by the clock. It went off with a buzz. There was nothing wrong with it. Pat must have shut it off before going to sleep. Now I'd have to stay until evening.
I got up and went to the bedroom and had a shower. Pat had found an old safety razor that had belonged to her ex so I could clean up fairly well. She came in while I was shaving and she must have expected some noise from me about her tampering with the clock because she was dressed enticingly in a filmy negligee. "When are you going to let me out ... or have you got some way of keeping me prisoner for weeks?" I asked a little sharply.
She caught the tone immediately and she cast her eyes down. "I couldn't help it. Tommie. I might not see you again ... and I wanted to keep you for a few more hours." She looked up timidly and hit me with those violet eyes as she said, "Are you very mad with me?"
How could anybody stay mad at her? I grinned and pulled her toward me and planted a kiss on her cheek, leaving a smear of shaving soap. "Naw, I'm not mad."
She looked at her smeared face in the mirror. "What are you trying to do, give me a shave?" She pulled a towel from the towel bar and wiped her face with it.
"What have you got for breakfast?" I asked as I released her and went back to shaving. She slid her hand up and down my upper arm and addressed me through the mirror. "We've got bacon and eggs ... or I could make you waffles or pancakes ... I think there's some sausage, too ...
"Any of it sounds okay to me." I said. I was lucky if I took time to eat a bowl of cereal when I provided for myself.
She wanted to go out and get a Sunday paper but I didn't dare let her. I was already sticking my neck out. I may have unconsciously given her a clue to my identity in ordinary conversation. I danced with her to some records she played on a imagine high fidelity set she had in the afternoon. But finally ten o'clock came and I got into my green top. When she came into my arms to kiss me goodbye, she pressed a key into my hand.
"That's the key to the kitchen door. Please use it ... anytime," she whispered.
I kissed her and she clung tightly to me. Her eyes were two violet pools of unshed tears when I held her away. "Don't forget me ... please," she begged. And I didn't.
CHAPTER SIX
If Pat could teach me so much, my research before starting on this rape career must have been pretty sloppy. I got a couple books on 'happy marriage' that Pat said she had read. It opened my eyes. I was carrying Pat's memory around with me to an extent that wasn't good for my peace of mind. I suspended my activities for a couple weeks while I caught up on my reading. And then I couldn't help it. A Friday night came and I couldn't get my thoughts away from Pat and the way she looked in those sexy clothes. And I ached to hold her in my arms and look into those violet eyes. I still had her key. It was only about eleven o'clock when I let myself in. When I snapped on the light in her bedroom, she woke up and held her arms out to me with a glad cry of "Tommie!"
I spent the weekend with her again and it was useless for me to steel myself against her. But I still intended to make my bi-weekly forays. I'd see Pat on the weekends in between. She still didn't know my real name or where I lived so she'd have to wait for me to go to her.
Pat's menstrual period came around every twenty nine days which meant that every so often she was indisposed on a weekend which was the only times I visited her. I usually tried to time my forays for these weekends but lately this hadn't been working out so well as before. I was getting choosier in selecting my victims. I would compare them with Pat and I up spending more time checking them out and respecting them, than in raping them.
One weekend I visited Pat when she was having her period. I didn't really expect to get in her pants, even though she was willing to accommodate me. I was happy to be in her company and be able to hold her in my arms and kiss her. We'd had several cocktails that evening and we were both feeling a little tipsy. She was lying in my arms naked on her bed except for the sanitary napkin she had to wear. I'd gotten her aroused to the point where I would have screwed her under other circumstances but it seemed almost cruel to leave her hanging there unsatisfied.
"Pat," I whispered, "Let me try something."
Her head was rolling from side to side and her eyes were half open. She nodded. "Go ahead." she whispered.
I got to my knees and crouched over her. My peter was hard and stiff and I teased the nipple of one breast with it. Her eyes closed and I continued pushing her breast this way and that, and getting some stimulation myself from the scratching of her hard nipple on the little flap of skin on the under side of my peter. The first sign I had that it was getting to her was when she held her breast up with her hands for better stimulation. And then she took my peter away from me and rubbed it against herself. With both hands free, I could position myself over her so that she could reach either breast with it. She began to massage me at the same time rubbed herself with it and my climax approached rapidly. I still didn't know if she wanted me to shoot on her and at last I had to hiss, "I'm gonna come!"
"Let it go." She whispered. "Shot all over me."
She had it with a vengeance. As the milky fluid came in spurts, she smeared first one breast and then the other. But she pushed me down and drained the last of it onto her belly. Then she tugged me down to her and fastened her lips to mine while she squirmed and twisted under me.
When Pat finally freed her lips from me, she gasped, "Good, that's almost as good as a piece of ass." She rubbed my cheek with hers almost like a cat rubbing against a person's legs for attention. I hadn't noticed her trembling as she usually did when she reached her climax.
"Did you come off?" I asked.
"No." She shook her head." But I didn't know what you were going to do. I think I could come off the next time.'
I was curious. I knew her breasts were sensitive but she'd never reached her climax just by stimulating them with kisses or with my hands. "How-did it feel, honey?" I nuzzled her cheek before she replied.
"When you started rubbing my nipples with it. I felt it all the way down there ... almost though you had it inside me." She paused a second or two as though collecting her thoughts "It felt good ... but better than when you kiss them. And then when I thought about you coming off on them, instead of getting disgusted I got even more excited.
I wanted to get it all over me ... like when I was a little girl, I'd go out and play in the mud and I had the most fun when I got dirtiest. Even now I've got a lot of left over excitement because we haven't cleaned up yet ... and I didn't come off."
I hadn't completely succeeded in satisfying her, I realized. But I remembered she had gotten my peter up a second time before by washing me in the shower. "Let's go wash each other in the shower and see if I can get it up again ... and this time see if you can come off." I suggested.
But she was reluctant. "Let's wait a little while: : : until it begins to get sticky."
There must be something to the slippery feeling of it, and maybe the smell. The animal-like odor of an aroused woman swimming with juices was enough to make my peter hard. I had found. The longer we waited, the easier it would be for me to get my peter up again, so waiting was all right with me.
When Pat and I were back in the bed I had aroused her with kisses and caresses, she had me straddle her across her waist. "Let me known when you're getting ready to come so I can hold you off until I'm ready," she instructed.
She held my peter with one hand and one of her breasts with the other while she teased and excited it. Then she traded hands when she wanted to tease and excite the other breast. I noted now that she seemed to force the head of my peter into her breast near the nipple before moving my peter around, as though there was some deep seat of pleasure there that neither of us had known about. Carefully, she raised both our passions towards their climax until she whispered through trembling lips, "Are you ready?"
"Yes," I growled through clenched teeth. I'd been trying to hold off until she was ready.
She jerked rapidly at my peter and spilled me over the edge of my climax. Again I spurted out on her and as she smeared it over her breasts with my tool, she began to shiver and tremble. I was ready when she shoved my peter downward and I scooted myself down to her hips and lowered myself into the mess on top of her. I slid around on top, spreading it as much as I could but she found my mouth with her lips and limited my movement.
I rolled over so that she was on top to let her do what she wanted to. She wriggled on me like a fish out of water. Her breasts slid around on my chest and again I felt that primitive feeling of pleasure. How little I knew of myself, let alone other human beings.
Pat was lying quietly on me, her lips on my cheek when she said, "Tommie."
"Yeah?" I responded.
"Do you get any fun out of it ... besides coming off?" she asked.
"You mean smearing myself up in it? Yes. I said. I caught the hidden question in the one she spoke. She wanted to know if it was only she who enjoyed wallowing in it.
"It's not in any of the books I read ... the ones I told you about," she stated. "So what?" I asked.
"Is it wrong?" she said.
I remembered what Delores had said about it. "If you had fun, and I had fun ... and nobody gets hurt, how can it be wrong?"
"The books said that it wasn't unusual for women to ... put men's cocks in their mouths, but wasn't anything ... about what we did. Maybe there's something wrong with us." she said.
"Maybe it's not as common as sucking cocks and licking pussies, but I told about at least one other woman who enjoys it. It isn't bothering me. Why let it bother you?" I tried to reassure her.
She sighed. "If you wanted to do it, or wrong, I'd do it for you, Tommie, just like anything else. I guess I can't knock it if I have fun, too."
CHAPTER SEVEN
I got started in some other kinds of women by accident. I had checked out this divorcee who lived in a sparsely built up section on the edge of town. She was blonde, in her early twenties, stayed home most of the day making trips into town now and then in a small foreign car she owned. She had no visitors and as far as I knew she didn't see anyone else. She seem lonesome and I wondered once, vaguely, what she lived on because she didn't seem to have any visible means of support. That should have any visible means of support. That should have tipped me off, but maybe I was getting careless. I was beginning to think I'd never make a mistake or get caught.
The house was almost to easy to get into. The back door was unlocked and the nearest neighbor was several hundred yards away. I wouldn't even have to worry much about noise, unless the woman got outside screaming. I must been a little careless because I'd barely gotten inside when a woman's voice called, "Is that you Ralph?"
The startled me. Who was Ralph?
I followed the sound of the voice to it's source. She was lying on her side with her eyes open. "Ralph?" she said. And then before I could stop her, she reached over to the nightstand and snapped on a table lamp.
"You're not Ralph!" she said as she started up on one elbow. One of her breasts if almost fell out of the loose, filmy gown she was wearing and she clutched the sheet to her chin to hide herself.
"You're right, I'm not Ralph." I agreed. This bit was bugging me. Had she picked up a dog named Ralph that I didn't know about?
"Who are you? What do you want?" she demanded.
"Well, you can call me Tom ... but before I tell you what I want, who's Ralph?" I said.
"My husband." she answered.
Her husband. She must have been getting visits from him since her divorce ... but I didn't recall that his name had been Ralph. "How long has this been going on?" I asked.
"How long has what been going on?" she countered.
"These visits of your ex-husband," I said.
She hesitated a few seconds and then asked, "Are you a detective or something?"
I shook my head. "No." And then when she didn't say anything more but sat there just looking at me, I said, "I thought you were living alone."
Then a glimmer of understanding appeared in her eyes. "Ralph isn't my ex-husband."
"Who is he. then?" I asked stupidly.
"He's my second husband," she said and I thought I caught a glint of amusement in her blue eyes.
I sat down on a chair. For a minute I couldn't think. And thor I thought with alarm, maybe he'd walk in on us my minute. I looked around uneasily. I didn't warn to tangle with an irate husband. "When's he coming home?"
"He's due tomorrow ... but he says he'll come home earlier when he can," she explained. She seemed completely unafraid.
I relaxed a little. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger. She seemed unusually self possessed under the circumstances. "What's your name?" I thought I might as well go through my spiel.
"Frances. Why?" she answered. "So I don't have to call you, 'hey you' mostly." I said.
"Okay, what are you doing here?" she repeated.
So then I went into my pitch. When I was through, she sat there as though I had tried to sell her a magazine subscription. If she was getting steady nookie from her husband, she might be difficult ... but this was what I wanted, wasn't it?
"So you want to ... make love to me, as you put it." She stated calmly. "What are your qualifications?"
My jaw dropped. "Qualifications?" I wasn't coming off very well in this exchange. If I didn't sharpen up. she'd make a fool of me.
"Of course. I might be interested if you could give me some good reasons why I should let you make love to me. All you've told me is that it would be safe. How do I know if I'll enjoy it?" she said logically.
"I didn't think to bring any testimonials with me," I said with a grin, "and my equipment isn't anything unusual. But my customers seemed to have I think a demonstration would be the best way to display my qualifications. Let me kiss you, and if you're not satisfied, I'll pack up and leave." I felt finally that I'd gotten into gear and was on my way to catching up with this sharp, young lady.
She looked at me a few seconds and then said, "All right. That sounds fair enough."
I felt almost embarrassed. I was seated in a chair several feet away from her. I usually arranged it so that I was sitting on the bed next to them. What the heck. I snapped off my flash and stood up. I walked over to the bed and I could see that she was studying me closely. I sat down on the bed next to her and looked at her a few seconds.
"You smell good, anyway," she commented.
I took her comment as encouragement and I reached out to draw her to me. She didn't resist and my lips touched hers gently. I released them after a few seconds and looked into her eyes. They looked back at me without fear, perhaps with a hint of curiosity. Her straight blonde hair hung down to her shoulders. Her lips curved attractively under a pert nose that had a few freckles on it. A few more were scattered over her cheeks. Her face was oval, almost egg shaped with her smoothly curving chin at the small end. I was holding her by the shoulders but now I drew her into my arms. Her head fell into the crook of my elbow and her lips met mine again. The kiss was longer this time but still gentle. Kiss after kiss fell on her lips, each one a little longer than the last. By the time our kisses were lasting nearly half a minute, I'd felt her snuggle a little closer in my arms. Then as I had done so successfully to other women before, I began tapering the kisses off, making them shorter and shorter but keeping contact with her lips between kisses. She was completely relaxed in my arms now, her eyes closed and only a stroking movement of the fingers of one hand to tell me that she wasn't asleep. When my kisses had shortened to tiny pecks, I began to drank my lips lightly over hers, brushing them from corner to corner and she stirred in my arms. One arm crept around my neck and the other went up my back. I continued to tease and tickle her lips and she began to breathe deeply, her head moving slightly from side to side. She wasn't responding as fast as most women so I tickled the corner of her mouth with my tongue and her lips parted. Then I was able to travel over one lip at a time, tickling the sensitive inner edges with my tongue. Then she groaned. That was my signal and I mashed her lips against her teeth with all the savagery in me. Again and again I punished them, cruelly grinding down on them. I stiffened the muscles of my lips so that they could better do their job, and when her breath was coming in deep ragged sobs, I slid my lips over her cheek to her neck and held her to me tightly.
She didn't say anything but clung to me tightly while her breath continued to whistle in my ear. Then I felt her lips searching my cheek until they found my mouth and she pulled me to her in another punishing kiss. I kissed her time after time, gradually making them gentler and gentler until I was barely touching them. Then once again her nose was in my neck but she was breathing more calmly now.
Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Where ... did you learn ... to ... kiss like that?" She said it with her lips in my neck so that they came out a trifle muffled.
My heart leaped in triumph. My hands roamed her back, feeling the warm flesh through her thin gown. "I've had a little practice." I admitted modestly.
She sighed deeply. "I thought I'd been kissed by experts. If that's a sample of how you make love, do anything you want. The sky's the limit."
I hadn't expected an invitation like that. It put me on my mettle to do something special for her. T remembered what Pat had done for me with the ice, and I remembered the books said it worked on women, too. If I could do it to her, it would be the first chance I'd had to try it. I let her slip from my arms back to the pillow on her bed. I zipped down my top and stepped out of it. She watched with interest and when I stopped to remove shoes and socks, she reached out to feel the muscles in my arm.
She looked puzzled when I stood up naked and said, "I'm going out to the kitchen a minute. I'll be right back. Why don't you get out of that thing while I'm gone." I touched her nightgown.
I found ice cubes but no ice bucket. I found a bowl in a cupboard and I put the ice in it. When I returned to the bedroom, she had removed her gown and was lying in the bed half covered by a sheet. Both breasts lay bare above the edge of the sheet, quivering with every movement. I whistled appreciatively through my teeth. They were firm and rose from the plains of her chest like two rounded hills. She arched her chest for me as she looked down at them.
When I set the bowl down on the nightstand she looked at the ice and then at me. "What's that for?" she asked. "You'll see," I promised.
"You're not going to try sticking one of those things into me, are you?"
I had to laugh. "No, don't worry ... but I thought you said the sky was the limit?"
She caught the implication at once. She knew she was due for something special.
It was well that I'd had a chance to give her a clue. She followed my lead on everything and I had no trouble getting her on top of me when we were in the last stages of the sex act. Her legs were wide open as the fury of her bouncing fanny increased and her spring of passion approached the release point. I had an ice cube ready in my hand as she broke into wave upon wave of shudders. I jammed the ice cube into her crotch just above her pussy and I could feel the ice cold water trickle down on my peter.
The effect on her was electrifying. Her arms and legs flew out stiffly so that she was supported only by that part of my body around my peter. She sucked in her breath sharply and her eyes flew open, but they were unseeing. She held her breath while she shivered violently and continuously for long seconds. I felt a muscle contract inside of her and she was suddenly tight. I came off inside of her in a few strokes which I got by rocking her fanny with my hands. Then she collapsed with an explosive breath. Her head which had flown up now dropped back to my shoulder and her arms and legs dropped back to the bed. I dropped the remains of the ice cube into the bowl but allowed my hand to warm against my own thigh before stroking her back.
I hadn't expected this kind of reaction even after my own experience with it. Her breathing seemed deep, but otherwise normal; but she didn't stir for long minutes and I began to wonder if she was unconscious.
"Are you all right?" I whispered.
She didn't answer but she nodded her head slightly. I don't know how long she lay there on me without moving but it seemed like fifteen or twenty minutes.
"You could sell it," she muttered without moving a muscle on the rest of her body.
"What?" I said in surprise.
"You could sell it. You wouldn't have to force it on women like me. They'd pay you for it," she said.
I assumed she was talking about the way I made love. "I told you my customers seemed to be satisfied," I chuckled.
"I could get you a hundred dollars a night," she said, still without moving a muscle.
"There's a switch. I'd be a call boy and you'd be my madame. What would your cut be?" I said.
"I'd take it out in trade." She wiggled her fanny from side to side.
"What about your husband?" I asked.
"Send him out, too. Of course he couldn't bring a hundred dollars a night, but he might get twenty five or fifty if you gave him a little instruction," she continued.
"What does he do?" I wondered why I hadn't learned about him during my checkout.
"He's a salesman ... shoes. It takes him a couple weeks to cover his territory. He's got a half dozen women in different cities he shacks up with," she said indifferently.
"How do you know he shacks up with them?" I asked. If she knew about it, she sure was taking it calmly.
"He told me about 'em. It's cheaper than renting a motel room and eating out. He was shacking up with me until a few weeks ago. The only reason he married me was this was his home office and his boss blew the whistle. Not good for office morale and all that stuff," she explained.
So that was why it hadn't checked out. I'd missed the marriage announcement, if there had been one, and her husband had been away all this time.
"What would he do if he caught us like this?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Not much ... just as long as it didn't interfere with his own fun." She was silent a few seconds and then asked, "Say, where did you learn that ice trick? That's a new one on me."
"I picked it up from a girl friend of mine. Did it do anything for you?" I grinned.
"I just about blew my mind. Something squeezed in down there and all of a sudden I could feel your cock real good ... and when it moved, it scratched an awful itch I had inside. Wow!" She hunched herself on me as though she were trying to hug the feeling to her.
For some reason, her casual attitude towards sex cooled me off towards her. She must have sensed it because she didn't try to stop me from leaving. This was one woman I had no desire to go to bed with a second time, although I had thoroughly enjoyed the first encounter.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pat gave me a hell of a scare one weekend. We were lying in bed after a good romp, and she asked me, "What would you do if you found me in bed with somebody else some weekend?"
I was stunned at the question. It had never entered my mind. I couldn't think of an answer. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it." I said while I did some belated thinking. Would I beat the guy up? What claim did I have on Pat that would justify it? Would I beat Pat up? Same deal.
"I guess I'd never come back again." I said finally. Then a dreadful thought occurred to me. "Have you found somebody else?" I'd risen up on an elbow and she must have seen the alarm in my face.
"No. silly. I just wondered," she said.
But the seed had been planted. Some day all this would end. Either I'd find somebody else to tempt me away, or Pat would find somebody who'd ask her to marry him. The thought that she might find someone she was willing to marry gave me an unpleasant feeling inside. I realized I didn't want to lose her. There were times during the week when I was lonesome for her, not in a sexual way, but just to be near her so I could talk to her.
One day a few weeks after she had asked the question, we were sitting in her living room listening to the radio and waiting for a television show we liked to watch.
"Pat," I said, "Is ... sex the only reason why you like to have me around?"
She turned her violet eyes to look into my face. Could she read what was in my mind? She had gotten to know me extremely well, even though she didn't know my real name. Her hand touched my cheek as she answered "No, dear, that's not the only reason. Why do you ask?"
Now that I'd brought up the subject I didn't know how to carry it on. "Well ... I ... sort of wondered ... I mean, do you have any feeling for me? Do you ... Would it bother you if I got real sick or got hurt or something?"
"You mean, do I love you?" she said bluntly. Her eyes didn't blink as they gazed into mine.
Deep down inside I had little hope that she would love me. All I hoped was that she cared something for me. I had never dared really love anyone since I had left home. "I don't expect you to love me ... but I hoped you might care a little." I said. I felt apologetic as I said it.
Then she came close to me and put her arms around my neck. "I do care for you, Tommie dear ... more than just a little. I care for you more than anybody else."
I held her close. I was satisfied. But she wasn't "Do you feel anything for me, Tommie?" she asked.
I was surprised at her question. I'd sort of had the idea she hung onto me because nobody else had come along. She couldn't be enthusiastic about my forays every few weeks. But I answered, "Yes, honey, you've kind of grown on me. At first I wanted to keep you from getting to be an alcoholic, but the other day when you asked what I'd do if I caught you in bed with somebody else, I realized I didn't want you to go to bed with anybody else. But how can I ask you to stay with me when I'm doing what I am?"
"All you've got to do is ask," she said.
"If you'll stick with me, I'll stay with you." I promised.
"It's a deal Tommie," she said and kissed me.
I felt a lot better and I guess Pat did, too. At least she wasn't as reserved as she had been before. Usually, she'd do anything I'd suggest, maybe with the idea that that was the way to hang onto me. But that took the spirit out of her.
I still felt inferior to her except in bed. I think she was better educated than I was an maybe she made more money than I did. I began to cast around for ways to even grow up some. I'd accumulated a fairly good bankroll. I rarely went out for amusement. Pat and I would dance at home and my expenses were low. But I wanted to find some way to use the money I had to make more.
I went out to the University one day and picked up a catalog of their evening courses. I noted that there were a couple of courses on investing and the stock market. I ended up signing on for one of the courses even though I knew Pat worked somewhere there. She actually worked in the library I found later and didn't have to work evenings, so there was little chance of us running into each other.
I tried to keep what I was doing from Pat but she knew I was up to something. She didn't try to get it out of me but I'll bet that she noticed how I was looking at the financial pages now and things like that. I was getting to trust her anyway and she knew things about me by this time that she could have tracked down my identity if she wanted to know it bad enough. She was afraid for me. though. When I wouldn't show up some weekend, she'd worry all the next week, watching the newspapers for rape stories and not resting easy until I came around again. So this was the reason why I was careful not to let myself get trapped like I had with her. Then I could spend a couple of evenings with Pat on the same weekend as I went on my forays. She wouldn't have to worry so much that way. way.
There was a young, unmarried woman taking some business courses who was at the University one evening and I overheard her talking to some of her friends. She was describing some kind of swimming party they had in the nude at the apartment house where she lived. I pricked up my ears at this and sneaked a look at the girl. She was a redhead and had a beautiful figure. I couldn't see much of her face because she had it turned to her companions but she was wearing a short skirt and the way she was sitting, I had a fine view of her thighs. Then she turned her head away from them for a few seconds and I caught my breath. Blue eyes sparkled out from thick, tangled lashes. A finely chiseled nose was covered with freckles as were her high boned cheeks. Full, red lips were enclosed in vee shaped parentheses at the corners of her mouth when she smiled and her teeth were white and even. Her hair was an auburn red and surrounded an oval face in a crown of tight ringlets.
I had caught the name of the apartment house and made a mental note of it so I could check it out. I had never done a job in an apartment house before because of the closeness of the neighbors. When I checked it out the next day, I found it arranged so that each apartment occupied a corner of the building so that each entrance was hidden from the others. The second floor was arranged the same as the first except that it was surrounded by a balcony. I had to wait for her to come out of her apartment for several days before I found which one she was in and then it was simple to look up her name under the apartment number on the mailboxes.
It was going to be tough and dangerous compared to what I had done before. It was full of college girls and boys who drifted in and out at all hours of the day and night. One saving grace was that her apartment was on the ground floor. The pool was at the back of the apartment concealed from the street. Her apartment was at the back and if I stayed under the balcony, I couldn't be seen from the second floor. One other situation worked in my favor. On Friday nights, many of the students left to spend the weekend home with their parents in some other city, but not my redhead.
It was nearly two in the morning before the last light in the apartment house went out and I felt it was safe to approach my victim. Someone had left an outside light on for the balcony on the second floor but the ground floor was in deep shadow under the balcony. I went quickly to the back and to the door of her apartment. There was a coco mat in front of the door and I lifted it to see if there was a key under it. I was in luck. I picked it up and inserted it in the lock. I didn't want to spend anymore time exposed out her than I had to. I let myself in and dropped the key back under the mat.
My flashlight showed that I was in a small living room. A door led to a combination dining kitchen with a built-in dinette. Two other doors opening on to the living room would be the bathroom and bedroom. One door was open showing it was the bathroom. I could hear a leaky faucet dripping in it. The other door was tightly closed.
I gripped the knob, and pulling it towards me to minimize the sound from the latch, I turned it until I heard a faint click. The latch had cleared. I eased the door inward and slowly allowed the knob to return to its normal position. The door swung inward an stopped with a faint creak. My dimmed flashlight showed her lying beneath a sheet, her auburn head resting on the white pillow. As I approached the bed, she stirred and rolled over so that her back was to me. I set my bag and flashlight on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. It was one of two twin beds in the room. It creaked a little and she rolled over to face me again.
"Whoizzit?" she said thickly.
"It's your boyfriend ... come to make love to you." I said.
"Who?" She was waking up slowly.
"Your boyfriend, Tom." I answered.
"You must have the wrong apartment. I haven't any boyfriend named Tom." And then she must have realized that something was wrong. She peered at me from her pillow and I held my face so she could see me in the light. I'm not bad looking, I guess, but I was enough older than she that she knew I couldn't be in her circle of friends. I could see the fright growing in her eyes.
"Be quiet and I won't hurt you, but if you make any noise, I'll have to tie you up and gag you." I said firmly.
"What're you going to do?" I caught the dread in her voice. The fear was still in her eyes but she was controlling herself.
"Nothing right now ... except give you something to help keep you from losing your cool." I reached down to the pocket where I kept the flask. I had good brand in it and I poured out two caps full. I handed one to her and kept one myself. "I'm drinking some to show you that it's safe. Whatever it does to you it will do to me. Now drink."
She hesitated, resting on one elbow and the cap in her other hand. "What is it?" she asked.
"It's a sweet flavored wine." I lied. I was going to try to get her to drink a second one and I didn't want her to know how strong it was. "Taste it first if you want to." I invited and I raised my own cap and tasted it.
She raised it and tasted. Then she took a tentative swallow, and finally she drained it. I took the cap from her hands. "Feel better?" I asked.
It would begin warming her stomach but it would be several minutes before it would take effect. She nodded, but I could still see the fear in her eyes.
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"Judy ... Judy," she replied.
"You'd better have another one of these, Judy," I poured her another cap full. This time she downed it in two swallows.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"Warm ... and scared," she said.
"What are you scared of?" I asked. I was making conversation to give the alcohol a chance to take effect. I sipped my own cap of brandy.
"You ... and what you're gonna do to me," she replied.
"I'm not going to kill you, Judy." I said.
"Thanks. And what else should I be thankful for?" she said with a note of sarcasm in her voice.
"I'm not going to hurt you unless you give me a bad time." I said.
"You mean if I let you screw me." It was a statement and not a question.
"I want to make love to you." I said and then went into my spiel. Afterwards I asked. "What's it going to be, Judy? Will I have to tie you?"
The fear had gone from her eyes but the alcohol had replaced it with courage. "You betch your ass you'll have to tie me."
I shrugged. I reached down to the pocket with the nylon stockings and took out a handful. I seized one wrist and she tried to pull away. I held it tight enough for her to feel pain. "Don't make me hurt you, Judy." I warned. She relaxed and I tied her wrist to the post at the head of the bed. I did the same to her other wrist and to her feet. When I pulled the sheet down I could see that she was wearing only the tops of a pair of pajamas.
She began to protest in a loud voice and hastily
I tore off a strip of adhesive tape and clapped it over her mouth barely in time to cut off a yelp. How I hated to be denied the pleasure of kissing those enticing lips.
I zipped myself out of my top and kicked off shoes and socks. She began to struggle as I turned to her but she seemed surprised when I unbuttoned her pajama top. I bent to her breasts, erect and firm in youth, and drew the nipple into my mouth. I teased it with my tongue while I fondled the other with my hand. Then I teased the other the same way. The nipples weren't rising but she had stopped struggling. I circled her breasts with kisses and then my lips traced a path down her torso, skirting her navel and traveling down her leg to her feet. I kissed her soles from toes to heel and she twisted her feet to escape my lips. Then I retraced my way up her leg and paused briefly to bite her gently on the inside of her thigh. I heard her catch her breath.
I continued up her leg and across her pussy. It was beginning to smell like it should and I was encouraged to travel down her other leg. She didn't try to move her foot away when I kissed the sole, but her toes curled. I bit the inside of her thigh on the return up her leg and I heard her breath catch again. I stopped at her navel and explored it with my tongue and I almost had to laugh. She sucked in her stomach and a mewing noise came from her. She was plenty hot. Her nipples were sticking out like two chips of flint and her eyes were half closed.
"Will you be quiet if I take the tape off?" I asked her.
She looked up at me and nodded her head.
Gently I peeled the tape from her mouth. I had pressed it on only enough to keep her from making any noise so it wasn't stuck very tight. I ached to kiss her but I held off to see what she would say or do. She didn't say anything but her lips parted and I swear she was pleading with her eyes. When I bent to kiss her, her eyes closed and her mouth was soft and sweet. I kissed her gently and briefly. And then I continued kissing her as experience had taught me so many women wanted to be kissed, making them longer and longer and then tapering off to teasing kisses. I was brushing her lips with mine from corner, tickling and teasing when she almost sobbed, "You can untie me if you want."
I untied her hands first and was going to untie her feet, but she put her arms around me and pulled me into a hard passionate kiss that lasted for minutes. At last she had enough to let me go so that I could untie her feet. But she was leaping with passion and she welcomed me back and jammed herself against me so that I couldn't waste much time before sticking it in. She had flung a leg over me so that I could enter her while we were lying on our sides. I half expected her to be a virgin from the fuss she had made, but somebody must have been there before. She was one of the juiciest women I ever knew. It was getting on her thighs. I was thinking of getting on top of her when she rolled over on top of me. From a very reluctant woman she had turned into a very eager one. I was still far from my climax when she began to shudder and she was almost crying as she went off. I let her lay there for a few minutes stroking her hair and kissing her cheek. But I was still hard inside of her. I was afraid she might not let me finish off so I twitched a muscle that I knew made my peter jump. I did it several times more and she began to stir. She raised her head and fastened her lips to mine while she began a rhythmic motion of her hips. I was delighted. She was hot enough to do it for me.
We came off together this time and by the time she was lying quietly on me, there was quite a sticky mess between us. What a smear I could have with this one. But Judy had other ideas.
"What a pig I am!" she whispered in my ear.
"Like hell, you are. You're a beautiful, passionate woman." I protested.
"But to lay for a stranger ... willingly ... and to enjoy it. I'm a pig!" she said it vehemently. I had thought that she was upset about the mess but apparently it was her own passion that was upsetting her.
"You and a hundred million other women, then Wait'll you get married and you get tired of doing it the same old way. You'll be surprised what you're willing to do with your husband ... and neither one of you will think you're pigs." I didn't want this girl to be bothered by guilt. She could end up a psychiatric case.
"You've done this before?" she asked.
"More than a hundred times." I admitted.
"And they all ... acted like I did?" she sounded incredulous.
"No they didn't. I didn't have to tie and gag most of them." I said. She raised her head to look me in the eyes. "You've got to be kidding," she said.
I looked back at her steadily. "Believe me. I'm not."
"How could they? Were they all pigs ... like me?" she demanded as her head dropped beside mine once more.
"You don't understand, Judy. Sex is perfectly natural. All the animals do it. If it wasn't fun. the race would soon die out." I explained.
"Okay. So it's all right with your husband ... but with a stranger?" she said.
"You couldn't help yourself. I've had so much experience that I know exactly what to do to arouse you. I could show you a lot of other ways to have fun but you wouldn't enjoy them the way you feel now. It's not your fault that you got aroused with passion and gave yourself to me. Blame it on me if you want to." I was trying to give her an out so that she wouldn't feel guilty. She was still lying on me with my peter inside of her but it was soft and she couldn't have been getting much sensation from it.
"You say there are a lot of other ways. . to have fun?" she asked.
"That's right." I answered.
"What are they?" she asked.
"You'd think they were pretty disgusting if I told you." I evaded.
"And you say women do them ... and get fun out of it?" she asked.
"Yes, especially after they've been married a few years." I said.
She was silent for several minutes, and then she asked, "Why did you do this to me?"
"Because you're young and pretty." I answered.
"Have you got some kind of hang-up?" she asked. "Can't you get your sex the way other people do? You're handsome enough."
"Maybe I've got a hang-up ... but I'm not aware of it. I get my kick from making love to an unwilling woman in such a. way that she becomes very willing. I enjoyed tonight better than most because I had to tie and gag you ... and then you got so excited that you did it for me." It didn't sound to me like a logical reason for taking all the risks I was taking, but it was the truth. I was lightly scratching her back under her pajama top and I wondered if that was what was keeping her on top of me after what she had told me.
She was silent again. Then she sighed, "I'd better clean up." She raised herself off me and said "Yech," at the mess between us. "There's some tissues in that top drawer if you want to use them."
After I returned from taking a shower, she was lying on the bed wearing the top and bottom of her pajamas. As I donned my top, she asked, "Are you leaving?"
"Yes." I answered as I sat down to pull on my socks.
"Would you stay and talk to me awhile?" she asked.
"About what?" I said and stopped as I was about to put my shoes on.
"Sex." She said the word almost defiantly.
I walked over and sat on the edge of her bed. "That's my favorite subject. What do you want to know?" I said with a grin.
"Could I have another drink of that wine, first?" she asked.
"Sure thing." I pulled the flask out of my pocket and poured two caps full and handed one to her. I wondered if she wanted the liquor to get her courage up. She still had the effects from the first two in her and although she wasn't acting giddy, the third one could really hit her.
She sipped once at her drink propping herself on an elbow, but then reached over to the other bed and pulled the pillow from it. She dropped it on top of the one in her bed and then leaned against it. She could sip without propping herself up.
"You made me feel things tonight that I'd never felt before," she began. I'd like to find out a few things before ... you go away. I don't suppose I'll ever see you again?"
"If you do, it'll be by accident." I assured her.
"Then I can talk more freely than I would if I was going to have to face you again."
I nodded in agreement. She sipped again and said "I suppose you could tell that I've ... been laid before." She raised her chin a little as she used a word that she obviously wasn't used to using.
"Yes, I could tell." I agreed.
She drained the last of the liquor and I took the cap from her. "Want another?"
"Not now. Maybe later." She paused and then continued, "I've been laid twice, but neither time did I feel like when you did it. How come?"
"How do you mean, it didn't feel the same? Which was better?" I asked.
"Yours was better. Twice I felt such a feeling of pleasure ... is that what you call, coming off?" she asked. The liquor was getting to her and she wasn't so shy at using the unfamiliar words and expressions.
"You didn't feel it the other times you were laid?" I asked. "No. That's why I never did it again ... and it's the reason I didn't want to lay for you ... at first," she explained.
"That must have been your climax, then ... or coming off as you said." I agreed.
"Do I have to let a man kiss me all over before I can come off like that again?" Judy said.
Now I began to see what was bothering her. "No, you don't have to let a guy strip you and kiss you that way to make you come off. I did it because I had to put the tape over your mouth and I couldn't kiss you on the lips. If I hadn't had to gag you, I'd have kissed you on the lips and maybe your breasts to get you excited."
"You mean you can get me excited like that just by kissing me?" She sounded as if she didn't believe me. I noted also that she was slurring her words a little now and then. The liquor had gotten to her.
"Sure. Want me to show you?" I said with a grin.
She smiled back at me a little uncertainly. Then she said after some hesitation, "I suppose you've done everything else you can to me ... but can I have another drink first?"
One more drink and I knew she'd be on the way to getting stoned, but there was a chance for a little more fun and after all the risks I'd taken, I could see no reason to leave now. I poured her another drink but resisted the temptation to take one myself. She didn't sip it this time. She swallowed it in three quick gulps.
"Whew, that's pretty strong wine," she said as she handed the cap back to me.
I shifted my position in bed so I could take the upper part of her body in my arms while the rest of her was stretched out on the bed. When she was settled comfortably, all I had to do to kiss her was bend my head a little. I studied her face before the first kiss. There's something about a man's eyes wandering over her face that a woman-likes. She watched me expectantly. Then when I bent to kiss her, she closed her eyes and I kissed her gently but firmly for a few seconds. When I raised my head from her again, I asked, "What do you want me to do if I get you all excited again?"
Her eyes opened and she thought a minute. "I don't care. Do anything you wanna. Screw me again if ya wanna," she said recklessly.
That's all I wanted to hear. In ten minutes she was nearly helpless with passion. When I fumbled at the buttons on her pajamas, she took them off for me. It was a good thing, because she was running with her juices.
When I knelt between her legs, I told her, "If you come off before I do, I'm gonna shoot all over your tits."
"Do whatever you want. Smear it all over me if you want to." She was boiling with reckless passion.
I worked away on her, trying to hold off my climax until she had finished hers. Just before she began shuddering, she hissed into my ear, "Fuck m-e-e-e-e." Her shudders had just died away when I felt my own coming. Quickly I shifted my position and straddled her at her waist while I milked my semen onto her which was just beginning to come in spurts. She grabbed my cock away from me and smeared herself with it. When she let it go, I slid back down on her and squirmed around on her while it grew limp. Then I shifted position and rolled over so that she was on top of me. She squirmed feebly but at last lay still. She breathed heavily close to my ear.
"It was nice and warm,, " she whispered after several minutes.
"What was?" I asked.
"That stuff that came out of you," she said. It never failed to startle me the observations that came out of women's mouths after a good piece of ass.
"Was it fun?" I asked with a chuckle.
"Yeah. It feels slippery." She squirmed and wriggled on me. I helped her with a hand on either cheek of her fanny. She had dripped from her pussy onto me and added to the mess. She was half gone from the liquor but I had to cushion her from any guilt she might have from this episode later.
"Now see? You enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. And nobody was hurt. What's wrong with it?" I said.
"Yeah, I guess you're right I didn't think it was gonna feel like this. Is this what married people do?" she said.
"Some of them." I said cautiously, "After they've been married a long time."
"Tell me some of the other things they do ... the ones you were afraid to tell me before. I don't care now ... I must be lil'l drunk," she demanded.
She seemed to be a little disappointed when she found that they were all mild compared to what I had just done to her. She kept kissing my cheek while I talked and when I nipped the lobe of her ear with my teeth, she squealed.
"Why does biting me like that make me shiver like this?" she asked. I shrugged. "I don't know. It just does."
"You know when you had me tied up ... and you bit my leg ... that was the first time I thought I might enjoy what you were gonna do to me ... and I could hardly wait 'till you got to the other leg to do it." She hugged me tightly with both arms.
It was getting towards morning and I had to get out without being seen. "I'd better clean up and get out of here." I said.
"So soon?" she made no move to get off me.
"You want me to go to jail for rape?" I asked.
"I forgot. You did rape me, didn't you." She giggled. "What a funny guy you are. You can rape women and make them love it. I wonder what kind of a husband you'd make." She rolled off me and she made a grab at me when she nearly rolled off the bed. "You go first this time."
I went for another shower and she was still lying naked on the bed when I returned. "Wait 'till I come back before you leave, willya?"
I was in my top and ready to leave when she came out of the bathroom. She was still naked but it didn't seem to bother her any more. She came up to me and put her arms around my waist. "Gimme a kiss," she demanded.
I complied willingly. Her lips were as sweet as ever. This was another one where parting was difficult.
"I hate to see you go," she said, "Even though you look too old for me. I've learned so much from you ... you've showed me how much more I can expect from ... love. And if you want to rape me again, you won't have to tie me."
It was beginning to get light in the east when I got home to my apartment. Although Judy was as close to a true rape as any I had done, I had a satisfying feeling that I had done something that would help her to enjoy a fuller and more satisfying life. I slept well.
CHAPTER NINE
One day I got a letter from my sister, Wendy. We exchanged one or two letters a year and cards at Christmas. I hadn't seen her since before she got married and all I knew about her husband was what she told me in her letters. He had joined the Navy during World War II and decided to make it his career when the war was over. Wendy couldn't afford to follow him all over, though, and she usually stayed in some city on one of the costs that was within traveling distance of most of the bases on that coast. Now she wrote to tell me that she was coming down to meet her husband at a port about two hundred miles beyond me. She wanted to stop in and see me. and if possible, get me to meet her husband.
My mind went back to those days so many years ago when we would play the exciting "catch me in the dark" games, and she would pretend to be asleep when I got in bed with her. It hadn't appeared to have affected her married life. Her letters seemed as normal as those I got from my mother once in a while. What would she say if she learned what I'd been doing?
I told Pat that I was getting a visit from a relative during the week but not to be alarmed if I didn't show on the weekend because I might be going on a little trip. I assured her that I wasn't making any forays and she shouldn't worry.
Then one evening during the week I got a telephone call. I recognized Wendy's voice, even after all these years. "Is that you, Mike?"
"Wendy! It's good to hear you again. Where are you?" I said with pleasure.
"I'm at the corner of Broad and Main Streets in a pay station. Do you know a decent motel I can get for not too much money?" she said.
"You don't need a motel." I said, "I can put you up here for a few days ... if you don't mind a little inconvenience."
"You're a good brother, but I didn't stop by to barge in on you and mooch," she protested.
"Don't worry about that. I've got a sofa that converts into a bed and we'll be comfortable enough." I gave her directions how to get to my apartment and when she hung up, I hastened to pick up things to make it look a little neater. I'm not sloppy by nature but no bachelor veeps his quarters as neat as a woman can.
I was watching for her when she drove into the apartment parking lot about twenty minutes after her call. I could tell her car by the out of state license plate. I went down to help her with her bags and as she stepped out of the car, I caught a generous look at her thigh. She still had nice looking legs.
"Mike!" she called and she ran into my arms and kissed me on the lips. I was a little startled because I couldn't remember ever kissing my sister since
I was a little kid.
"Hi Wendy," I said as I hugged her. She had grown into a full blown, buxom woman and she felt good in my arms.
She held me away from her and said, "Let me look at you." Her eyes wandered over my face and down my body as a half smile played on her lips. "My, you've grown into a handsome man ... how've you managed to stay single all this time?"
"It's a knack I've got," I grinned. "Where's your bags? We can talk better up in my rooms."
She opened the trunk and I took out two suitcases. As we walked towards the entrance to the apartment I said, "Id better let the landlord know that you'll be here for a few days so he won't get any ideas that I'm entertaining women in my rooms."
"Don't bother on my account." said Wendy, "I won't be here long enough to matter anyway."
When I opened the door for her, she went in and looked around curiously. I followed with her bags. "Is it as bad as you expected?" I asked.
"It's a lot better than I thought it would be. I guess all that training in housework that Mom gave you didn't go to waste." I smiled at the memory of the way we used to fight over who was going to wash and who would dry the dishes when we were home.
"Well, take your things off and sit down. Would you care for a drink?" I asked as I set her bags down by the door to the bedroom.
"It would hit the spot," she answered, "I've been driving almost all day." She sat down on the sofa and I went into the tiny dinette to put together the drinks. "What do you like?" I called "I've got whiskey, vodka and rum."
"Something with vodka in it. Have you got the makings of a Bloody Mary?" she called.
"Coming up," I said. I had plenty of tomato juice and made one for each of us.
I handed her glass to her and I clinked mine against hers. "Here's to our first visit in years." I took a swallow and then took a seat opposite her. I immediately noticed that she was sitting so that I could see much farther up her thigh than was customary. Was she up to her old tricks? She could have pulled her skirt down if she wanted to.
"Did you make good time?" I asked after another pull on my glass.
"Pretty good," she answered. "I covered nearly a thousand miles in only two days."
"You must drive like a bat." I commented. At that rate, she had less than a half day's driving to get to the Navy base.
"I wanted to get down a couple days early so we could visit a little. Dick's ship won't make port until late Saturday. That'll give us a couple days to catch up on the gossip ... unless you get fed up with me and throw me out," she chuckled.
"I guess I can stand you a couple days," I grinned. "How long has Dick been at sea?"
"Too damn long. It's been more than six months and I need servicing bad." I was startled again at her frank reference to sex. She must have seen the look on my face.
"What's the matter, brother? Don't you get any sex? Don't you have any girl friends?" There was a teasing note in her voice so much like it was when we were home together.
I could feel myself getting red as I answered, "I get enough."
"You're blushing!" she almost squealed. "I'll bet you don't get it once a month."
Wendy always could get to me and now I said something I regretted. "I can get it any time I want it, as often as I want it, and from anyone I want it from."
"What's your charm?" she jeered. "Have you got twelve inches of it that you wave at them?"
"No, I've got a vasectomy," I blurted. Why hadn't kept my mouth shut?
"A vasectomy? What's that?" she asked. Curiosity had replaced the teasing note in her voice.
"It's an operation that makes you sterile," I explained.
"You mean you can't knock up a woman?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's right." I said.
"Well," she said with a knowing look. "No wonder you never married."
"Yeah. Why make one woman miserable when you can make 'em all happy," I joked.
"How do they behave in bed when they find out they don't have to worry about getting pregnant?" She leaned forward with interest and she moistened her lips with her tongue.
"Pretty wild sometimes," I admitted.
"What do they do?" she pressed.
I felt trapped. "Wendy. I can't tell details like that to you," I protested.
"Why not? I'm your sister, I'm not going to squeal on you," she urged.
I shook my head, "It's not that. This isn't a subject you discuss with your sister."
"Oh yeah? Do you think I've been in a nunnery the last ten years? I could tell you some stories that would make your ears burn." She chuckled lewdly.
This wasn't entirely out of character with the sister I had known at home but nearly ten years is a long time. She would probably feel the same way I was feeling if she knew the truth about my sex life. I needed time to think so I asked. "Can I refill your glass?"
She handed me her glass after draining it. "Make it a double this time."
Did she want to get drunk? I mixed the drinks and thought back to the time when I was screwing her at home. There had been a hidden understanding between us then. Did she still feel that we had an understanding but not so hidden? How could I find out?
I returned with the refilled glasses and I sat down opposite her again. The view of her legs had changed. She'd had them crossed at the knees before so that the outside of her thigh was exposed. Now she had them crossed at the ankles and I could see up in between them. I could plainly see the white crotch of her panties.
"Come on, Mike," she wheedled, "Tell me something of your sex life. I've been without it so long myself that I can get something out of it just talking about it."
"Don't you want to take a shower and change first?" I stalled. She was wearing a suit with a jacket and a tight skirt. It couldn't have been very comfortable.
"Okay, after I finish this drink, then," she agreed. "How come Dick's been at sea so long?" I asked.
Maybe I could steer the conversation to another subject.
"It's this Korean thing. He's been on patrol duty almost constantly. They've been in to Japan for R and R only twice," she said.
"What's R and R?" I asked.
"It's supposed to be rest and recreation but it usually ends up booze and ass," she chuckled. "I hope Dick hasn't picked up a dose of something."
"You think Dick would fool around over there?" I asked.
"I know he fools around, not only there but any other place he gets ashore. Just as long as he comes home to mama ... " She took a pull on her glass.
"Isn't it kinda tough on you to stay home and keep house while he runs around with other women." I said sympathetically.
"Who says I stay home and keep house? Now don't be shocked, brother dear. US Navy wives have a little club and we share our husbands when they're home with the other women whose husbands are away ... but this Korean thing has taken nearly all the husbands away leaving the women high and dry." She looked at me with amusement in her eyes as she drained the last of her drink. "I'll take that shower and change, now."
"You can have the bedroom and I'll sleep on the sofa. The bathroom open onto the bedroom and we'll have to share it. We can work it out later." I carried her bags into the bedroom and showed her where to find clean linen for the bed. Then I came back to the living room and closed the bedroom door.
I made myself a fresh drink and sat down to think. My sister gave every indication that she was ripe for a lay. She apparently had been to bed with other men besides her husband and she had very liberal ideas on sex. We both knew that we had been to bed together and the only difference now was that we were older. If she wanted to talk sex when she came out, I might as well go along with her.
Some time later, the bedroom door opened and she came out. I couldn't help staring. She was wearing a black, lacy, frilly thing like a double breasted robe that was held together in the front by two bands that went completely around her waist. It would have been almost transparent but the double layer where it was tied in the front was all that prevented me from seeing her charms.
"Are you going to gape at me all evening or are you going to make me a fresh drink," she said with a glint of amusement in her eyes.
I grinned sheepishly and got up. "Do you want a single or a double?" I asked.
"Make it a single or I won't last the evening," she said. She sat down crossing her legs and the garment she was wearing fell away on either side of her legs so I could see even more than before. She leisurely pulled it back to cover them.
I didn't give her a double but it was a mighty generous single. If she was that hot to trot, I'd help her along.
I handed her glass to her and she said, "Thanks."
As I sat down opposite her she said. "I'm glad I took that shower ... and had a chance to get out of my girdle. I feel a lot better now. But you promised to tell me something of your love life. Have you got a steady?"
I decided to tell her everything, about Pat and all the other rapings. She sat and listened for over an hour, interrupting only to ask a question and a couple of times to replenish the drinks. When I was through, we sat in silence for about a minute. Then Wendy said, "It looks like you're having a ball, Mike. But haven't you forgotten something."
"Like what?" I asked.
"You're gonna get old one of these days, and you'll find all your girl friends gone. You'll have nobody to keep you company in your old age. That's why Dick and I stick together even though we fool around. When he retires from the Navy, we'll still have each other, even when neither one of us can do any good in the sex department," she said seriously.
I sat silent. Then I said, "Maybe you're right."
"This gal Pat seems to be good for you ... even if you don't love her. But if you don't marry her, somebody else may come along who'll take her away from you. And if you try to find somebody like that Judy woman, you may find her gone, too. Then you'll be up the creek."
I shook my head. "Yeah, but she lives in this big house in a swanky neighborhood. I don't make enough to support that kind of living."
"So what. You're carrying on with each other now, aren't you? What's the difference if you get married and live together and keep on doing what you're doing now? You'd save money on one rent. What does she need a big house like she has if she's all alone? Maybe she'd get rid of it and move into your apartment with you." Wendy was only a little older than I but she sure made sense.
It was getting dark outside and we hadn't had anything to eat. "Are you hungry?" I asked. "I've got a couple of frozen dinners in the refrigerator."
"You're a darling. I was beginning to think we were going to drink dinner," she giggled. She was a little tipsy, it seemed.
She followed me into the kitchen and said, "Anything I can do to help?"
"We've got time for one more drink if you want to make it." I suggested.
She made two more Bloody Marys while I turned on the oven and prepared the frozen dinners. She came up to me while I was sliding them into the oven and pressed herself against me. "Do you ever think of the good times we used to have together?" she asked.
She had put on some cologne or something after her bath and she smelled good. And she was all curves and softness under the thin robe. I couldn't tell if this was a veiled reference to the times I screwed her or to the games we played in the dark. "Yeah, sometimes. Some of them sound a little silly, now." I put an arm around her. "We were kids then, but you're a big girl now."
"Oh, so you'd noticed that, did you," she said with a trace of sarcasm.
I looked down at her and I could see down the front of her robe between her breasts. She wasn't wearing a brassiere and I was almost certain she had no panties on either. Her arms came around my neck. My other arm went around her waist. "You still talk and act like my sister, but it's as though you were in another woman's body Wendy."
She looked down at herself and observed, "I have changed since then, haven't I?"
She was almost in my arms but I didn't know what to do next. And we just stood there for a minute or two until Wendy disengaged herself and said "Let's sit down in the living room."
She drew me down beside her on the sofa and said, "I'd like to know more about this technique of yours that makes women willing victims to a rape."
It was an open invitation but I didn't know how to get started. Wendy wasn't a rape victim. "Can't we wait until after dinner?" I asked lamely.
Wendy looked at me strangely. "Don't you find me attractive?" she asked.
"Hell, yes. You've grown into a beautiful woman, a lovely, desirable woman," I said vehemently.
The strange look left her eyes and she leaned back while she sipped her glass. "Isn't it funny how we turned out?" she said.
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Well ... you know what a free thinker is, don't you?" I nodded. "It looks like we've both turned out to be free lovers ... of one kind or another."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." I hadn't noticed the similarity but I saw it now that she had pointed it out.
"Does it ever bother you ... some of the things you've done?" she said.
"It did a little at first ... but I found after a while that there were all kinds of people with repressed desires ... appetites they held in check because they thought they were wrong. And this is ... well, artificial. It's what other people think that makes it wrong. If two people want to do something together that gives them pleasure ... and nobody gets hurt, why not enjoy it?" This was one thing that I had though out years before.
Wendy nodded her head. "Very good. I wondered for a while if I was the only one who thought that way, but I found that there are others. They call them Hedonists and libertines."
Our conversation was interrupted by the bell on the timer for the oven. The frozen dinners were ready. After dinner Wendy asked, "Do you eat these frozen dinners often?"
"Only when I have dinner at home. I usually eat dinner out, but at home it works out good ... not many dishes to wash. I've always hated to wash dishes after all I had to do when we were kids," I said.
"Funny. I feel the same way," said Wendy.
I sat down beside Wendy on the sofa afterwards and she sat there expectantly. Finally she said, "Aren't you going to show me how you make love?"
"I want to, but I don't know how to begin!" I burst out.
She sat there with an incredulous look on her face. "Why not?" she almost snapped.
"Because I'm not raping you ... forcing you. I've forgotten how to make love like other guys," I cried.
She looked at me for a second as though she couldn't believe me. Then suddenly a smile lit up her face. "I know what we can do. We can make a game of it."
"What kind of a game?" I asked. I remembered the exciting games she used to think up when we were at home.
"Easy, I'll go to bed and you come in and pretend I'm one of your rape victims. Do everything exactly as you always do. Don't leave anything out. I want to see just what it is that lets you get away with it." She was enthusiastic now that the idea had hit her. It did seem exciting even to me after having done it hundreds of times to others. Now to do it to my own sister ...
I changed into my top after she had gone into the bedroom and got out the flashlight. Then I turned out all the lights and approached her door. I knew that it creaked if I opened it slowly, so I opened it swiftly and it creaked only faintly when it stopped. Wendy had changed into a pink nightgown and she lay in bed with the blankets drawn up just below her breasts. Her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply. My movements were confident and sure now.
I walked silently to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Wendy didn't sit. Her lips in repose made a delicious curved bud. I bent and kissed them and Wendy's eyes flew open.
"Who're you? What're you doing in here?" Wendy put on a good show of fear. She drew the blanket up to her chin and her eyes looked frightened.
"Don't be afraid," I said, "I just want to make love to you."
"Are you nuts?" she demanded. "Get lost."
"I'm not going to hurt you unless you give me trouble, but one way or another I'm going to make love to you. What's your name" I started into my pitch.
"My name's Wendy. But you don't want to make love, you want to rape me," she said.
"Rape is a nasty word. And I don't want to do anything nasty to you. If I have to, I'll tie and gag you, but you don't have anything to worry about." I continued my spiel and then ended with the usual, "What's it going to be, Wendy. Will I have to tie you?"
"You say you won't hurt me?" she asked. "I promise," I said.
"I guess you won't have to tie me, then." Wendy had behaved almost exactly as most of the women had that I had raped.
I leaned towards her and my lips found hers. Funny that I had never felt the urge to kiss her before. They were as sweet as any other woman's lips but Wendy's had an expectant feel to them ... or was it my imagination? She responded like any other woman. As my gentle kisses got longer and longer, she relaxed. And as I tapered them off until I was barely brushing them back and forth, from corner to corner, she began trying to follow my lips just like most of the others had done. And I teased her until I felt a muscle in the corner of her mouth twitching and then I crushed her mouth with mine.
When I paused to catch my breath and she was panting close to my ear, she said, "Oh Mike ... no wonder ... those women let ... you rape them ... willingly." My lips slid over her cheek to her mouth, but this time although I crushed her to me with my arms, I gave her the gentlest of kisses. I could feel her breasts through my top from the pressure of my hug. Gradually I relaxed my grip and began to caress her skin through the thin fabric of her gown. I worked my hand gradually around from her back to her breasts and she shifted a little to give me better access to them.
Wendy did something, though, that no other woman had done. She zipped down my top and foraged down inside until she found my peter. It was hard and stiff and she had a little trouble getting it out in the open.
"I always wanted to see what it looked like," she said as she turned it this way and that.
"You're not playing your part as rapee," I complained.
"You wouldn't deny me a little pleasure, would you? We can always go back to playing the game if you get hung up again." She argued.
"Okay. Anything you say. Do you want me to get naked?" I asked.
"Let's both get naked," she suggested. "I'm so damned hot I can hardly stand it ... but I want to make it last as long as possible."
"Do you want me to try to make you come off twice?" I asked as I stepped naked out of my top. I sat down to take off my shoes and socks.
"Have you got something special in mind?" she asked with interest.
"I don't know how special it is. I'll excite you at the sensitive spots on your body until you're almost ready to come, and then I'll put it in. I'll be able to save myself until you're ready to come the second time," I explained.
"Let's try it," she said and she lay back against her pillow naked.
I bent over and began kissing her at her lips. I slid my lips over to her ear and then down to her neck. She turned her head to help me. Then I kissed the space between her breasts. My lips circled one of them and then climbed in a spiral towards her protruding nipple which I imprisoned between my lips. I drew part of her breast into my mouth, and I bit it with my stiffened lips. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply. Her hand came up to caress my head and once she pulled it gently into her breast. I did the same to her other breast.
Then I left her breasts and dropped to her stomach, circling the navel. Then I approached her navel in a spiral, and each time I crossed her stomach below the navel, her stomach muscles would twitch. Her head was rocking from side to side as my mouth found her navel, and as I searched it with my tongue, she caught her breath and then gasped, "Stick it in, Mike. I'm ready to come."
I hastily knelt between her legs and she guided my peter into her. I'd barely got it all the way in when she began to claw and rake my back while she broke into waves of shivers. I stroked into her vigorously until her shivers died away. Then I rested on her.
After a few minutes she began to caress my back with her hands. Then she whispered, "Oh Mike, I've wanted you to do this to me openly for so long. I don't have to hold back and make believe I'm asleep. You don't know how many nights I lay awake after you left home, imagining what it would be like to screw my brother, just as I am now." She began to move her hips under me and I began to stroke into her. It seemed pretty obvious to me that she was getting a special kind of excitement, not from the sex act alone, but because she was doing it with her brother. I had to admit that there was something exciting in it for me just because it was supposed to be wrong. Maybe this was connected some way in the fun I got in raping women.
As Wendy's excitement mounted, she began to whisper things to me. "Come on, Mike, fuck your sister."
"You don't have to be afraid to wake your sister. I'm already awake." You don't have to wear a rubber because you can't make me pregnant."
"Your sister wants you to fuck her, Mike." And then she said to me; "Tell me what you're doing to me, Mike."
"I'm fucking you," I responded.
"No, no. Who are you fucking?" she panted.
"I'm fucking my sister," I said.
"That's it! That's it! Say some more," she said eagerly.
"I'm screwing my sister ... and she's a fucking good piece of ass ... and it was me that took her cherry ... " I was stiff as a poker in her and she was moving around under me so much that I was a little afraid I'd fall off. She was making crying noises in her throat and pulling me into her with a hand on each cheek of my ass. I ran out of things to say to her and she took over.
"Rape your sister. Mike."
"Strip her and fuck her, your sister."
"Stick your big fat cock into your sister's pussy." And then it suddenly came to an end. She held her breath and keened in her throat. Her eyes were tightly closed and her very excitement pushed me up to my climax. I pounded into her and she broke into shivers, her hips working with each thrust. Finally her shivers died away and she lay under me completely relaxed. With a final thrust, collapsed on her and lay breathing heavily.
We lay there for long minutes. Then Wendy's hands came up to my back and she whispered, "Are you ashamed, Mike?"
I shook my head. "No. but I don't feel lige going around bragging about it."
"Good. Would you do it again with me?" she asked.
"Not tonight. I'm pooped," I protested. "Maybe later"?
"Okay," she said, and after a short pause "Gee, you're good in bed. If I wasn't married ... "
It occurred to me that it wouldn't be necessary to make the sofa up into a bed. "Can I sleep with you tonight Wendy? I've always wanted to."
"That would be fun ... just the two of us." She sighed with pleasure.
So after we cleaned up, we snuggled in each other's arms and talked into the night until we fell asleep. I awakened the next morning with my peter hard and stiff again and Wendy playing with it.
"Want to go again before we get up?" she asked.
"What a sex machine," I said. "You're worse than I am." She thrust her breast in my mouth and we started on another romp.
Wendy cooked breakfast for me and then I took her for a tour of the city to see the sights. We drove through the university groimds but I didn't want to walk around with Pat working there. I showed her the building where I went three nights a week for the courses I was taking. Later on in the afternoon, I took her for a swim at the beach. She wore a red, two piece bathing suit that didn't conceal much. We fooled around with each other until we got hot again and I could hardly wait to get back to the apartment to screw her again.
She had to leave for the Navy base the next morning. I'd been debating with myself whether I should go or not but Wendy started coaxing me after breakfast.
"Come on, Mike. You ought to at least meet your brother-in-law," she wheedled.
"But it seems foolish to follow you down in my car ... drive four hundred miles or more ... just-to shake some guy's hand, Wendy."
"You can ride down with me and take a bus back, Mike ... and you can stay over with us for one night and get better acquainted," she pleaded.
"Yeah, I can just see me sitting and talking to the two of you when Dick would be climbing the walls to get in your pants," I protested.
"Oh, hell, if that's all that's bothering you, you can take a walk around the block while I give him a piece," she urged.
In the end I gave in. I threw a few things into an overnight bag and rode down with her. She drove like a mad woman. I read the map for her and told her which routes to take. But even in the car she radiated sex like a roaring fire. She sat with the edge of her skirt half way up her thighs and when I slid my hand along her leg, she just smiled at me out of the corner of her eyes. She didn't seem to care that the drivers of the trucks she passed had a good look at what we were doing. When we had to stop the few times for traffic lights, her right hand dropped to the upper part of my thigh and she'd caress me with her fingers until the light changed.
We arrived about an hour after noon. We hadn't stopped to eat lunch. Wendy drove directly to the base to ask if Dick's ship had docked yet. It wasn't expected until late in the afternoon, around five, so we had lunch in a little place not far from the gate and then went to look for a motel. We found one that had one double and one single bed. I thought the owner looked a little suspicious at Wendy's explanation that I was her brother who would be staying only one night, and her husband would be staying with her the rest of the time. Except for hair and eye coloring, we don't resemble each other very much. People used to say that she took after my mother in looks and I took after my father.
We hung up our clothes and then each of us took a shower. It was warm and we felt sticky from traveling. Wendy showered first and came out wearing only panties and flopped down on the double bed. I had on undershorts when I came out, but when I went to lie down on the single bed, she said, "What's the matter? Are you mad at me?" She patted the space next to her.
I lay down next to her and said, "This isn't getting you in the mood for your husband."
"You let me worry about that, brudder dear," she said as she rolled onto her elbows. She teased me for the rest of the afternoon, dangling her breasts in my face or fondling my peter, and laughing when I'd get aroused and grab her. But we didn't get to the point where I screwed her again.
She called the base from a pay phone in the motel about five o'clock and learned that Dick's ship was just docking but that there wouldn't be any liberty until after seven. We had time to eat a leisurely dinner and then returned to the main gate. Wendy sent word to the ship that she was waiting for Dick. While we waited, Wendy said, "Would you drive and let Dick and I sit in the back? I can give him a little loving on the way."
"Sure, why not?" I shrugged. Funny that I didn't feel jealous or anything like that about Dick. It was beginning to get dark before he finally came out. Wendy jumped out of the car and ran into his arms. I got out to shake his hand when Wendy got around to introducing us. He must have been a few years older than me, a nice looking guy in summer whites, with curly hair and blue eyes. Wendy pushed him through the back door of the car saying "Mike'll drive while we say hello to each other."
I had hardly got the car in high gear when I could see through the rear view mirror that Dick was on top of my sister and working away at her. I slowed down so as to give them plenty of time before we got to the motel and I didn't attempt any conversation. Wendy must have said something to her husband about our own relationship, because when we arrived at the motel, he was noticeably friendlier and easier in his speech. He hadn't been the least bit inhibited by my presence while he was screwing Wendy in the back seat. I carried his bag in for him, and then asked, "Do you folks want me to take a walk for awhile?"
It was Dick who answered, "Come on, mate, we've hardly said a dozen words to each other. From what Wendy tells me, you're a right guy. If I knew any women in this town, I'd fix you up and we could have a little orgy."
Then Wendy chimed in, "Maybe we could have a little orgy anyway."
I listened dumfounded while they calmly discussed what she had in mind. "You like to screw me up the ass for variety and I've always wanted to see what it was like to get screwed both ways at the same time. Now here's our chance," she said.
"Would you go for a deal like that. Mike?" Dick asked.
I tried to act nonchalant but my imagination was racing. "Anything you want is okay with me."
Wendy turned to me with a sparkle in her eyes and a half smile on her lips. "We've wanted to do something like this for ages, but Dick couldn't invite one of his buddies ... he couldn't risk something like this getting all over the ship, and any civilians we know ... and we know only a few ... would think we're crazy. But this is nearly perfect. We can depend on you not to talk, and I don't even need to worry about getting pregnant. By golly, I think I'm gonna get drunk!"
"Me too," said Dick. "Did you bring any booze?"
"II go get some ... my contribution to the party," I offered.
"What're you gonna get?" my sister asked. "How about vodka," I suggested. "Dick-likes whiskey," she objected. "Then I'll get both. I don't know what I can get for mixin's, but what do you like?" I said. "Ginger ale." said Dick.
"Tonic ... or grapefruit soda," suggested Wendy.
"I'll see what I can do," I said. Wendy handed me the keys to her car.
"We'll clean up while you're gone," and she kissed me on the lips.
I was glad to get out into the cool night air and think. I couldn't see how anybody would get hurt unless it was Wendy. Could she actually take it up the ass without injury? It looked like I was going to have a chance to find out.
I'd been gone a little over a half hour when I got back. Dick was flaked out on the double bed and I could hear the shower running. Wendy hadn't finished showering. Dick sat up as I came in with the packages. "I got some ice from the motel while you were goin," he said. He was wearing some old ragged whites cut off at the knees.
I set the bags down on the bureau and said, "I'll have to wait 'til Wendy comes out to get the glasses." We had put them in the medicine cabinet earlier that afternoon.
"Heck, go on in and get 'em. She won't mind," he said.
I opened the door to the bathroom and when she stuck her head through the shower curtain, I said, "Just getting some glasses for the drinks." I caught a glimpse of dangling breasts as she ducked back inside. I returned to the bedroom.
"Want me to mix 'em?" offered Dick. "Maybe you'd like to change. You don't look very comfortable dressed like that."
I was wearing walking shorts and shirt, but it did seem something else would be more comfortable. Alcohol always made me feel warmer. I dug out a pair of swim trunks with an elastic band at the waist. They were comfortable.
I was just drawing them on when Wendy stepped out of the bathroom. I was surprised to see that she was fully dressed in a blouse and skirt. I'd hajf expected her to come out half naked as we men were.
She must have seen my look. "Dick-likes me to strip a little at a time as the evening progresses," she explained. She took a glass that her husband handed her and I accepted one that he handed me. Then he picked up a third standing on the bureau.
"Here's to a wild evening," Dick toasted and the three of us clinked glasses and took a long swallow.
"We'll have to be careful not to be noisy. We wouldn't want the cops busting in here at the ... uh ... wrong time," she warned.
There were only two chairs in the room so one of us would have to sit on the bed. I turned one of the chairs to face the bed and was about to offer it to Wendy, but instead she said, "You men sit in the chairs. Beds are made for women." She put all three pillows on top of each other and then kicking off her shoes, she sat on the bed propped up by the pillows. Now I understood. She had started her strip act when she kicked off the shoes and she could treat us to a view up her legs just by flexing them.
I knew that Dick would need some time to recover from his romp with Wendy in the back seat of the car. I thought the time would pass slowly, but he told of some exciting encounters they'd had with some Communist Chinese junks trying to get supplies through the patrol.
All of us were soon making trips to the bathroom. The first time Wendy went, she showed us on her return that she had taken off her panties. The second time, she came back minus her blouse, wearing her brassiere. She wasn't wearing stockings, so the third time she returned, her breasts were bare. By this time we men were feeling high but Wendy was on the way to getting drunk. She told her husband about my raping activities and ended it with, "He even raped me!"
"You don't look ... any the worse for it," Dick hiccupped.
"It wuzsh fun," she announced solemnly.
"That's what counts." agreed Dick. Then he turned to me, "Hoy is sit, Mike. Is it fun to fuck your sister?"
"Sure, she's a woman, isn't she?" I said. "And she's stacked. Look at her." She had raised one knee so that the dress had slid up around her hips. Her splendid legs were exposed up to the dark delta between them. Her breasts jutted up saucily with the nipples erect. She swung her legs to the floor and stood up. She slid a zipper down at her hip while she swayed slightly. She undid a button and the skirt fell to the floor and she was nude. She folded her hands behind her head and turned slowly around in front of us.
"Are you guys gonna sit there and gab all night? When are ya gonna start fucking the merchandise?" she demanded.
Dick placed his glass carefully on the floor and said, "Let me stick it into your pussy first for lubrication. Your ass is usually tight until you get worked up." He undid the dozen buttons or so on the drop front of his whites and stepped out of them. Then he stripped off his jock shorts.
"No need for all this light," said Wendy and she turned off all the lights except the one in the bathroom. She left the bathroom door open and only the light that came through the door illuminated the room. It was dim but enough to see what was going on. I had stepped out of my swim trunks.
I watched as Wendy took her place supine on the bed. Dick knelt between her legs and worked his peter into her, stroked a couple of times and then withdrew.
"Come on Mike. Hurry up before it dries. Lay down here and I'll get on top of you," she urged.
Quickly I lay down beside her and she rolled on top of me. I could feel her guiding it inside her and then sank down on me. She was panting from excitement. I had spread my legs apart and Wendy was straddling me. Then Dick knelt between my legs and I could feel him fumbling with Wendy.
"Easy honey, it hurts a li'l," she gasped.
And then I had the strangest sensation. The passage I was in must have been very close and parallel to the passage that Dick was in because I could feel his progress as he entered her from behind.
"Is it in yet, honey?" my sister asked. "Almost," answered Dick.
I thought I was going to have to bear the weight of both of them, but Dick was supporting himself on outstretched arms. He began to sway back and forth and Wendy swayed with him. All I had to do was lay there. I was in her as hard as a bar of iron with the sensation that my peter was being massaged inside her.
"Play with my tits, Mike ... and kiss me," she instructed. She shifted her position so I could cup one of her breasts but she didn't give me much chance to kiss her. She began to talk like she had before. "Oh, boy, to be fucked from both ends at once."
"Fuckin' my brother at one end and my huzbin' at the other."
"Come on, my darlin' huzbin, fuck your wife in the ass ... show her a good time. You, too, Mike. Fuck your sister and show her a good time."
She was getting pretty wild and hot. "Screw the hell out of me, godammita" she gritted harshly. Dick's tempo and vigor increased and just then Wendy wailed "I'm coming!" The three of us were in a rocking frenzy of motion with Wendy shivering and shuddering between Dick and I. And then I went off just as Dick said, "Here I come, honey!"
Dick's thrusts gradually slowed to a stop but I felt the weight of the two of them as he sank down on his wife exhausted. We lay like that piled up on top of one another panting from our exertions for several minutes but I was having trouble getting my breath. When I couldn't stand it any more, I gasped, "I can't get my breath. Somebody get off."
Dick immediately drew back to his knees and off the bed. "Sorry," he said, "Is that better?"
"Yeah," I sighed, "The two of you were a little too much."
Wendy made no move to get off and her husband seized her hips and worked her up and down on me. "Wanna screw him some more, honey?" he said with a chuckle.
"Lemme alone, I'm comfortable ... an' tired," she protested.
"What a kooky sister you got there, Mike," said Dick.
"Nah," I disagreed, "You got a kooky wife."
Then Wendy spoke. "All three of us are kooky. I got a brother who rapes women and a husband who-likes to screw 'em up the ass." Dick slapped his thigh and laughed.
"Why don't you go wash up instedda laffin' at us," Wendy said.
"Okay, okay. So you want to get rid of me already. You'll be sorry. Wait'll you want a piece of ass again." Dick pretended to be offended. But he went into the bathroom and soon the sound of the shower running came to us on the bed.
"Thanks for bein' such a broad minded brudder," Wendy said into my neck. "I've wanted to try that for a long time."
"That's okay, but do you want to lay here like this all night?" I asked.
"Am I heavy on you?" she said.
"No, but Dick might not like it," I pointed out.
"Yeah, I guess I better not push it too far," she agreed. She sighed heavily and rolled off me. "Can I stop off and stay overnight with you on my way back?" she asked.
"If you want to," I agreed. "When will you be coming back?"
"In a couple weeks. I can't afford to stay any longer." she said.
Dick came out of the bathroom just then and asked, "Anybody want a drink?" He pulled on his shorts and then began pouring himself a drink.
"I think I've had enough," said Wendy.
"I'll wait'll I take a shower, Dick. Do you want to shower first, Wendy?" I said.
"No. you go ahead, Mike. I'd just as soon rest a little more," she said.
We ended up with Wendy and Dick sleeping in the double bed and me in the single bed. Wendy was the only one who had a hangover the next morning, but she was feeling well enough by ten o'clock to drive me over to the bus station. She kissed me goodbye and said "See you in a couple of weeks," before I boarded the bus. I got home before dark and immediately called Pat.
"Can I come over for awhile?" I asked.
"Of course, I missed you." she answered.
I didn't intend to tell Pat about the affair with my sister, but I told her nearly everything else. It was strange the difference in my feelings towards Pat and those towards my sister. I was glad to be together with Pat again. I could enjoy her without sex. I wondered if I could watch her screw another man, any man, with no more emotion than when I watched Wendy screw her husband. I decided that the difference in my feeling was that I didn't want to lose Pat. If she had a passing imagine for another man and wanted to lay him just for kicks, this I could take. But I didn't want her to love anyone else but me.
I got a card from Wendy saying she'd arrive on a Sunday night so I told Pat that I'd have to leave early Sunday. I would have liked these two women to meet each other but I wasn't sure that I wanted Pat to know my real identity yet and Wendy could easily let something slip. I went to bed with Wendy again, but I had the feeling that each of us was doing it because we thought the other wanted to. I know that was my reason.
CHAPTER TEN
Several months had passed since I had seen Wendy last. I had taken and passed several courses in investment and finance at the University and had enough confidence now to buy some stocks. I began by buying some speculative issues that seemed to have good growth possibilities. I had discovered that there were mutual funds aimed at growth and when I quizzed a broker about them, we got quite friendly. When he saw that I had more than a passing background and interest in stocks, he offered me a job. I'd been working as a clerk in an accounting office and this offer at a salary plus commissions sounded interesting as well as profitable. The job they offered was house-to-house canvassing to sell mutual funds. It had the one flaw that I would have to work territories where I had raped many of the women. I'd have to be careful to stay away from them. But it had been years since I'd had some of them and most had been widows or divorcees who might have remarried and moved away. They might not even recognize me now. The risk seemed small.
A few weeks after I got my new job, I told Pat my real name. I wanted to be able to take her place with me without fear that I'd run into somebody who'd recognize me. We were sitting in her living room one Sunday evening. She was stretched out on the couch with her head and shoulders in my arms and we were listening to hi-fi music.
"Pat, honey," I said.
"Hm-m?" she responded.
"My name's not Tom," I said.
"No? What is it?" she said with scant interest.
"Its Michael ... Mike ... Shields," I said.
"Okay, so it's Mike Shields. But you'll always be Tom to me. Do you mind if I keep calling you Tom?" she said.
"Call me anything you like, honey. But the reason I'm telling you is because I want to tell you about the rest of me ... and I want to take you out once in a while. I want to act like other lovers do," I explained.
"Do you love me?" she asked with quick interest. I had never told her I loved her in so many words and neither had she.
"Yes, Pat," I answered. A feeling of relief mixed with tenderness swept over me.
"Oh. Tom. . .I love you, too" Then our lips found each other and I held her tightly while I forgot everything I knew about how a woman wants to be kissed. I wanted at that moment to show her how much I loved her. At last when our lips were free she said softly, "I was always so afraid you'd find some other woman ... on your forays ... that you'd want more than me, that I worked awful hard to make you happy. I'm so glad now."
I noted that she still hadn't, mentioned marriage.
"Eventually, I'd like to marry you, honey, but I've got to get something done, first."
"That's all right, darling. I'm glad to have you any way you want me. But what is it that you have to get done? Can I help?" she offered.
"I've just gotten a new job with a stock brokerage firm. It's the first break I've gotten to get ahead and I've got to make good," I said.
"What do you do?" she asked.
"I sell mutual funds door-to-door ... but so far I haven't been doing so good." I said glumly.
"What's the trouble?" asked Pat.
"Well, they're mostly housewives and they say they don't know anything about stocks and that I'd have to see their husbands. You're a woman. What would interest you in letting me explain what mutual funds are?" If I could get a woman's point of view, maybe I could find a way to sell them.
"All you'd have to do with me is offer to go to bed with me ... but that's because I love you." She gave me a peck on the nose.
"Come on, Pat, be serious," I pleaded, but I had to grin in spite of myself.
"Anybody who could talk women into letting you rape them ought to be a howling success selling mutual funds. How did you think up that line you tell them to make 'em come across?" she said.
I caught her meaning at once. I had to find a way to sell mutual funds as a way of satisfying their desires, either hidden or open. "What do women ... married women ... want most?" I asked.
"I think most of them want to see their kids go to college ... and of course, that's connected with freedom from financial worries." Pat replied. "If they already have money, some just want freedom from boredom."
I remembered how carefully I had timed my forays for a particular time of night, and so I asked, "What's the best time to catch a housewife with a sales pitch?"
Pat thought a minute and then said, "Probably after she's got her husband off to work and the kids off to school and she's had a change to sit down and relax. Not before nine in the morning I'd say. And in the afternoon, sometime after one and before three ... before the kids get home from school ... and of course you wouldn't call at lunch time, or just before."
"I wonder if these women can get their hands on this kind of money anyway," I mused.
"Don't kid yourself," said Pat, "Women control the purse strings in most families. That's why so many ads for new cars and homes are aimed at women."
I reflected on this for awhile. It certainly seemed that she was right. I'd have to plan for this like I had planned my rapings. "You've given me what I was looking for, sweetie. You've boosted my morale ... so let's forget that awhile so I can fill you in on the rest of it."
I told her about the work I did and how I had changed to selling stock after taking courses at the university. I also told her where I lived and gave her my telephone number so that she could call me when she wanted to get in touch.
I'd had a few weeks of training and orientation before I went out to try selling, so I'd had only a couple of weeks in the field. Now I knocked off going out entirely while I worked on a new presentation. I was ready after a few days to try it out. It was just after nine in the morning when I pressed the button to the doorbell. The door opened and a brunette dressed in a housecoat and wearing some kind of plastic hat stood before me. "Yes?" she said.
"Good morning, ma'am. Have you ever wished you could get enough money to send your kids to college, or pay off the mortgage?"
"Are you kidding? Who hasn't?" she replied.
"Have you got a few minutes to let me explain how you can do it?" I asked.
She didn't answer right away. After a few seconds hesitation, she held the door wide and said, "Sure, why not. It'll be a change from watch the boob tube."
I entered the living room and she closed the door behind me. She waved to a chair and said. "Have a seat."
I sat down and she asked, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"I'll join you if you're having some, but don't go to that trouble just for me," I answered.
"I usually have a cup around this time," she said, "It's no trouble."
While she busied herself in the kitchen, I opened my brief bag and took outsome of the material I'd need. She returned a few minutes later and I saw that she had removed the plastic hat. Her hair spilled down over her head nearly reaching her shoulders. It wasn't red but a kind of coppery color, about the shade of a new penny. She wasn't wearing any makeup but she didn't need any as far as I could see. Her lips looked a little pale against the smooth, egg shell whiteness of her skin, but they curved like an archery bow, the lower being fuller than the upper. But the really startling feature about her which wasn't obvious before, was the contrast between the color of her blue-green eyes and her flaming hair.
I must been staring because she said, "Is anything wrong?"
"No, no ... I couldn't help admiring your hair." I said.
She smiled at this and said, "The water should be hot enough by now. Be right back." She still had on her housecoat and the way she jiggled when she walked suggested that she had little or nothing on under it. It would be hard to remember that I had a respectable job and couldn't go around raping women in broad daylight. But then I recalled that I'd about forgotten how to make love in the conventional manner. While she was gone. I pondered the methods I'd used before getting in the Army.
She interrupted my thoughts by appearing with a tray on which there was a coffeepot, two cups and saucers, a sugar bowl, and a tray of crackers. "I'm sorry I don't have any cream," she apologized, "I have some of that powdered cream substitute, or I could get you some milk. The crackers have peanut butter or cheese spread in 'em."
"I thought when you said coffee, you meant coffee. But this is like a little party." I chuckled. She seemed a little flustered for some reason.
"Now tell me how I can make all this money and then tell me why you're not making it and have to earn a living like this," she said with a little smile.
She wasn't so flustered that she didn't have her wits about her I saw. "I am doing it myself ... but it takes time for it to work." I said. But in the meantime. I have to eat. And because I feel enthusiasm for what I'm doing myself, I'd like others to see how they can get in on it."
"Sounds reasonable," she agreed.
"I suppose you've heard that there are men who can make money in the stock market," I began.
"Oh yes, but they weren't little people like us." she said.
"Well suppose one of these stock market geniuses said to you. "If you folks will put your money with mine, we can all make some money" would you be interested?" I asked.
"Of course I would, but why should he do that for us?" she objected.
"Because of the commission you pay him. For a single individual like you. it wouldn't be worthwhile. But when you have several thousand, individuals, it makes a big difference." I explained.
"But we'd be such small investors ... " she protested.
I shook my head. "The size of the investment isn't important in the aggregate. It's what the total amounts to that counts."
"What do you call these ... this method of investing?" she asked.
"They're called mutual funds. There are nearly a thousand of them, each one with some particular objective in mind. If you want income ... so much a month, say ... you can get one that pays off in income. If you want to reinvest your profits to buy more stock, there are mutuals set up for this. If you want growth rather than income, you can get into mutuals that have this feature ... or objective. And in it all, you can diversify your own objectives by getting a few shares of growth stocks, a few for income, a few for blue chip safety, and so on." I told her.
"What's your name?" she asked suddenly. In my concentration on my sales pitch, I'd forgotten to introduce myself. I could feel my face reddening with embarrassment.
"That was stupid of me. It's Mike Shields. I'm from Meyer's Investment Company." I'd have to be sure this wouldn't happen again. Women might not want to let a salesman into the house if he was unwilling to give his name and company.
"I'm Summer Lane, Mr. Shields." She held out her hand and I set my coffee cup down to shake it.
"Glad to know you, Mrs. Lane." When I released her hand, I thought she dragged the tips of her fingers across my palm. I tiny thrill swept through me as I remembered that the palm of the hand is one of the sensitive spots on both men and women's bodies.
I was having trouble keeping my mind on my work. The house coat she was wearing was buttoned down the front with huge, white buttons spaced nine or ten inches apart. She was sitting beside me in such a way that at times when the gap between the buttons bulged, I could see her breasts between the overlapping part of the garment and sometimes the inside surface of her thigh. The openings were large enough that I could easily slip my hand through them if the opportunity arose.
Only half of my mind was on my job, and so I was caught flatfooted when she said, "It looks very interesting to me, Mr. Shields, but how far are you willing to go to earn your commission?"
All could think of to answer her was, "I wouldn't kill for it ... if that's what you mean."
"What I have in mind is far less violent and unpleasant as that," she said.
"Now you've got me curious," I said.
"Do you think I'm ... attractive?" she asked.
"My eyes dropped to what I could see of her figure in the loose fitting housecoat. "You're pretty enough ... but I can't tell much about your figure in those clothes." I was too green at this sort of thing to be anything but completely honest with her.
Her eyes gleamed and she smiled as she said, "So you want to see what kind of a figure I've got. You wait here. I'll be right back." She rose to her feet and left room. She returned a few minutes later. I've been used to seeing women naked and in all stages of dress and undress. But except for Pat, I'm not used to seeing a woman dressed to provoke or entice me. I don't know what you'd call the thing she was wearing. Perhaps a one piece pajama with feet to the legs is the best way to describe it. It zipped down the front. I couldn't tell what color it was actually because it was so sheer that it would look flesh colored anyway. Two black embroidered designs covered the nipples of each breast, and an embroidered girdle concealed a triangular space below her navel.
I got to my feet as she entered and watched as she approached me. She stopped a few feet away, her eyes on my face and smiling a half smile. Slowly she turned around in front of me and when she was facing me again, she asked. "Well? Do you think I have a good enough figure?"
I didn't answer. I took two steps toward her and swet her into my arms. She chuckled in her throat as my lips found hers while her arms wound themselves around my neck and shoulders. She practically melted into me.
It's one thing to force your way into a woman's bedroom and talk her into submitting to you, but it's another to have a woman, a strange one at that, welcome you with open arms within minutes of meeting you for the first time. I felt buried in her. I sank into her lips and her coppery hair seemed to be floating around my head. I had the feeling that her body was enveloping me, its softness and roundness reaching around to my back as well as the front where it was in actual contact. I was kissing ... or rather she was kissing ... me passionately immediately and I wanted to get the initiative so I could arouse her in my usual way. I began to kiss her with passion so that she relaxed so I could kiss her the way I wanted to. When I was in control of the situation, I began to taper off the passionate kisses, making them shorter and shorter. Soon she was relaxed in my arms while my lips strayed over hers, brushing and pecking them here and there as I wandered over her mouth from corner to corner.
Again I was crossed up. She began tickling my lips with her tongue and my embrace tightened as my passion rose. I did the same to her and it seemed that the tips of our tongues were fencing with each other. Then she imprisoned my tongue in her mouth and held it with her teeth. She released it when I punished her lips with all the strength in me.
We had been standing all this time. When I released her lips finally, her head fell drunkenly on my shoulder. She was breathing deeply, almost gasping. She whispered, "Let's find a bed somewhere."
I released her from my embrace and taking my hand, she led me to the same door she had entered before when she changed her clothes. When she had closed the door behind her, she turned to me and began to remove my tie. "You've got too many clothes on," she murmured with half closed eyes.
"My mother wouldn't like it if she knew what I was doing." I teased.
She giggled. "You've got nothing to worry about, then, because I'm doing it, not you." She continued to undress me until I was naked. Then she zipped herself out of her revealing pajamas and squirmed her way into my arms again.
I knew this woman had a husband and a couple of kids. Her home was comfortable and well furnished. Why was she willing to risk losing it all on a fling this? Could she be on such poor terms with her husband that she had to resort to things like this for sexual satisfaction? This was the first time I'd be going to bed with a supposedly happily married woman, and although I felt some uneasiness that a husband might drop in unexpectedly, I was more than a little curious to see what it was like. For one thing, I was finding that she could kiss as expertly as any woman I'd know, and better than most. But she also seemed to know every trick to arouse me that had ever been invented.
We were standing by the bed kissing when she took my hand and fell backward on it dragging me with her so that I almost fell on her. I was able to protect her from the full shock with my outstretched arms. All she did was laugh and then wrapped her arms around my neck to pull me down on top of her. She raised some of her coppery hair and rubbed it into my face so that I could smell the perfume of it. I gave up all restraint and set out to enjoy this voluptuous woman to the limit. I got her to arrange herself on the bed so that I could kiss her all over her back and then roll over to kiss the front of her. She gave tiny squeals of pleasure when I kissed the soles of her feet. When I tongued her navel, she grabbed my head as though to push it away, but there was no strength in her arms. Her fingers were clenching and she squirmed when my lips traced a spiral around the nipples of her breasts and she whispered "Bite them." I drew in as much as I could and gently bit with my teeth. She sucked her breath in sharply.
Then she said urgently, "I'm getting ready to come. Stick it in, quick."
She was moist and slippery and my peter slipped in easily. But I stroked only a few times when she broke into trembling spasms. She raised her knees into the air and pulled me into her, with little groaning cries coming from her throat against my lips. Finally she was still and her legs dropped back on the bed. I rested quietly in her, still hard and rigid
"You didn't come off yet? she whispered.
"No, not yet. Do you think you could come again?" I said.
"I think so. I'm still a little itchy down there. Rest awhile first ... it feels so good in there," she murmured.
I scratched the edges of her back where I could reach it and she said, "Let me get on top." I rolled over while we held ourselves together so that I wouldn't fall out of her. Then with her resting on top of me, I scratched her back from top to bottom, first gently scratching up and down and then sideways. "Um-m-m, that feels good," she purred.
She began to roll from side to side. With a hand on either cheek of her ass, I helped her roll from side to side. Then I began to urge her to an up and down motion and she began a rhythmic motion that wasn't strictly up and down but combined with a sliding motion along the length of our bodies. Her tempo increased. The sight of her bouncing fanny on top of me stimulated me and I was rapidly approaching my climax when she said, "Are you getting ready to come?" She was panting from the effort she was making.
"Yes, pretty soon now." I answered.
She increased her efforts to a veritable fury. "Me too," she gasped. She raised herself off me with outstretched arms and raised her knees so that she was half sitting on me. Her eyes were closed as she worked away on me, her breasts swaying above my chest in time with her rhythm. I was just coming off and groaning with the sweet pleasure of it when she made a final effort, dropping down on my chest and clawing at my shoulders as she thrust herself on me. She shivered during the last, slow strokes and at last collapsed on me.
I stroked her back and kissed the coppery hair that was spilled over my neck and chest. It wasn't often that a woman was willing to do all the work and I was happy and contented. "You've been generous to me Summer. I wish I could do something for you."
"Don't worry, sweetheart," she said, "You've done plenty for me." She bit me gently on the nipple and a muscle in my groin contracted. She twitched a muscle inside her and I felt it contract on my peter. She bit me again, and again my muscle contracted. She giggled and said, "It looks like I've found the right button to push."
Then I said a little hesitantly, "You do have a husband, don't you?"
"Yes, but you get pretty tired of making love the same way, with the same person, year after year," she said. "I'm sure Frank fools around once in while for a little variety ... and when the chance comes along, I like a little variety myself ... and you're cute."
I sighed. "What a way to sell mutual funds!"
"Are you knocking it?" she asked.
"Heck, no. I just didn't expect it." I said.
"You're pretty naive, Mike. You think a housewife can sit home all day without getting bored? Somebody like you comes along and it breaks up the day ... sometimes, the whole week," said Summer.
This put a whole new aspect on my new job. I wouldn't have to rape the women ... and these married women knew some tricks the widows and divorcees didn't know, perhaps to get some variety in their sex lives. I'd have to do some rethinking in my approach, I could see.
We'd been silent for a couple minutes when Summer stirred and said, "I'd better take some precautions."
I hadn't mentioned that I was sterile but now I said, "I'm sterile. You don't have to worry about getting pregnant."
She raised up on her elbows to look me in the face. After a few seconds she said, "Now, he tells me! Oh Mike, why didn't you say something before? We could had more fun."
"I'm sorry. I didn't think about it." I said apologetically.
"Can you come around again next week?" she asked.
"I don't know." I said doubtfully. "I've got to drum up some business or I'll be out of a job."
"Well, I can talk Frank into buying some of these mutual funds ... and I'll fix you with a friend of mine who I think would buy some ... if you treat her as well as you've treated me. But I've got to see at least one more time. I haven't had a piece of ass yet where I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant and I want to see what it would be like," she said earnestly.
"Okay." I agreed. "What day do you want me to come?"
"Could you find an excuse to come Tuesday morning?" she asked.
"Yes, I think so." I said. "I can leave an order for you and your husband to sign and I'll pick it up Tuesday." I said.
I didn't tell Pat the turn this job had taken. I let her think that the new selling approach was the key to the really surprising success of my efforts. I really looked forward to the time I spent with Pat but the interludes with the housewives was turning out to be profitable. It was so profitable that my company wanted me to take some of their other salesmen out to show them how I did it. I made a bluff that you had to be willing to sit around for a couple of hours entertaining them with talk because of their monotonous lives, but I think they all realized I had bluffed them and was trying to keep my secrets to myself.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I had quite a few open accounts which were bringing me in a good income after about a year. My own investments had grown to nearly five thousand dollars besides several thousand in cash in the bank. I was rapidly approaching the point where I felt equal to Pat and could ask her to marry me. The decision was thrust on me one Friday when the manager of our office called me in to talk to him.
"Mike," he began, "You've done very well with these mutual funds. I want you to know the home office has noticed it and they want us to reward you for your efforts."
"Well thanks, Jerry." I answered gratefully. "I didn't expect anything more than the commissions."
Jerry grinned behind his glasses. "This is kinda a left handed reward, Mike. They want me to give you a chance to use your ... us ... talent for the company's benefit. So we're planning to open an office dealing strictly in mutual funds in Florida. We'd like to locate in one of three different cities, St. Petersburg, Miami, or West Palm Beach. We have offices in Orlando and Jacksonville already. How would you like to manage this office ... and you can pick the city you'd like to work out of."
My heart leaped. What an opportunity, and after only a little more than a year. But I resisted the urge to accept right away. I needed to think over the implications, Would Pat come with me? Aloud I said, "It sounds like a wonderful opportunity, Jerry. I appreciate it very much. But can I take the weekend to kick it around a little? I can give you my answer Monday."
"Of course, Mike. Take all the time you want." He agreed. "There'll be things like moving that you'll want to think over. But remember, the company will pay your moving expenses, and of course you'll continue to collect your salary. I don't mind telling you, I wouldn't mind going to Florida to work, myself."
"Yes, it strikes me as a pretty good deal, too. But I want to get Pat's reaction." The men in the office knew I had a girl but didn't know what a serious affair it was. I knew that if Pat wouldn't come with me, I couldn't leave her. I'd grown so attached to her that I thought of her as my wife and I looked on marriage as a legal ceremony that would somehow keep her from leaving me.
I went directly to her home from the office instead of stopping at my apartment as I usually did. I got in before she did and she was surprised to find me there. "Trying to catch me cheating on you, hey?" she joked as I held her in my arms and kissed her.
"Honey, how'd you like to marry me and go to Florida to live?" I gave it to her short and quick. "Sure thing, just as long as I'm back for work
Monday." She must have thought I was joking.
"Seriously. I've been offered the management of a mutual funds office in my choice of three cities in Florida ... but I won't go unless you marry me and come with me." I said more completely.
"Honest?" she said with doubt in her violet eyes, but when I nodded the corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Why that's wonderful, Tommie!"
"Will you marry me? ... and come with me?" I persisted.
"Of course I will, silly." She kissed me quickly on the lips, "But why is it so important all of a sudden?"
"You mean about getting married? I've wanted to marry you all along ... so you wouldn't leave me for someone else. But I didn't, feel as though I had enough to offer you." I told her with a little lump in my throat. Perhaps she had grown so used to me being around, she didn't know how tender I could feel about her at times.
She laid her cheek alongside mine and said, "You want to make an honest woman of me, is that it?"
I held her close and murmured, "I owe you at least that much, honey."
"You're sweet ... and I love you," she whispered. "You've got to help me decide which city to choose. Maybe we could take a trip down there and look around a little. I have some vacation time coming. What about you? Could you get off for a week or two?" I asked.
"I think so. I've got the time coming. The only problem is giving them enough advance notice ... for vacation, I mean." Pat said.
"We ought to find out as much as we can about these three cities in advance so that we can make a tentative decision. Maybe write to the Chambers of Commerce and stuff like that." I suggested.
"You leave that to me. I think we've got some reference stuff in the library that may help. If we could go to a place somewhere near a university so I could work. . . ? " she said, but I interrupted.
"You won't need to work. I'm doing well enough now to support us comfortably. I ought to be doing better when I get this new position." I said.
"Who said anything about support? I know you could support us. But I need something to keep me busy. I like my work and I'd go nuts if a I had to sit home alone all day," she protested.
"But what kind of a husband would I be. . . ? " I began.
"Do you want me to be the kind of wife who'd get bored ... and would fool around with the milk man. . or mutual fund salesmen?" she interrupted.
This was the first time she had let me know that she knew what I was doing and I could feel my face flushing. But a smile played on her lips which showed that she held no rancor. "You knew all the while?" I asked.
"Of course. Do you think I'm worried about you when I can hold you against all comers? ... without benefit of a marriage license?" she explained her confidence.
"I wouldn't need any other woman but you if I didn't have to sell these mutual funds. I haven't raped anybody for nearly a year, and I'd be happy to go to an office and come home to you every night." I tried to tell her how my love for her had grown and how dear she had become to me.
"Don't worry, dear. We both know what we've got. I'm second hand goods and you're a little shopworn ... same difference. But I told you what I'd do if a had a second chance to get a husband. I'd like to have you all to myself, but I can be broad-minded and understanding if it can't be that way." She smoothed my hair with one hand. "I do love you and I'll be glad to be your wife."
"I'll have to get you a ring, a diamond and later a wedding band. Do you want to shop for something?" I asked.
"Why don't we go together," she said. I wouldn't want to get something you didn't approve of, darling."
"Heck, it isn't important what I think. After all, you're the one who'll be wearing it." I said. But I was pleased that she wanted me with her just the same.
She was standing with her arms around my neck and smiling up at me. Now she stopped smiling and said seriously, "Honey, would you be insulted if I offered to trade in my old engagement ring on the new one you're getting me? I don't want the old one around to remind me of my ex-husband."
I didn't want her to contribute to the purchase of the ring but I couldn't object to her reason for wanting to trade it in. "I suppose it's a practical way of approaching it. You can get a better stone for the same price." I shrugged my acceptance.
We went looking for rings the next day, Saturday, but didn't buy anything. Pat brought her old diamond solitaire with her but the amount the dealers offered her in a trade was not very generous. We went to the university library in the afternoon and Pat took out some books on Florida that gave us some of the information we wanted.
We pored over the literature that weekend. I wasn't much interested in the St. Petersburg area because of the large percentage of elderly people who would probably not be interested in mutual fund investing. Pat was interested in West Palm Beach because of a Junior College where she might be able to find work in the library. There were other colleges and universities a few miles to the south. Miami didn't sound attractive because I would have to compete with other offices selling mutual funds who were already well established. Our choice seemed to be narrowing around West Palm Beach.
Pat inquired into time off the next week and I told Jerry that I accepted his offer, but I wanted to take a trip to Florida to check the territory out in the three cities. Pat and I decided to get married before the trip and use it for a honeymoon. We were married in a simple service performed by a Justice of the Peace. At a small party for a few friends, I met Pat's lady boss who was also a divorcee a few years younger than Pat, "So this is the one and only Pat's been telling me about," she said as we shook hands. Next to Pat, Amelia was probably the best looking woman there. A couple of bachelors who were obviously younger than she hung around her talking shop. She was polite to them but she seemed to prefer the company of those close to her own age. Pat had already told her of our plans to move to Florida, probably within a few weeks. "We'll miss her, Mike," she said. "But we probably all envy her."
I thought I wouldn't feel any different after the marriage ceremony, but I was mistaken. Pat was a striking woman and I felt proud of her as my wife. We had been going out together only for the last year or so, and although I was proud to have a woman like her on my arm, it wasn't the same as I felt now. I had the pleasant feeling of knowing my wife well enough that I had no doubts that our marriage would last. I had little unsatisfied curiosity about what it would be like to go to bed with other women because I had been to bed with so many others.
There was a subtle change in Pat's attitude towards me. She had always been considerate as well as tolerant, but now she couldn't seem to do enough for me. I was almost embarrassed at the little attentions she bestowed on me. There were no more missing buttons on my clothes, and they were always clean and well pressed. I'd been a bachelor so long I'd forgotten what it could be like to have a wife to help keep me comfortable.
The trip to Florida was successful in that we were able to make up our minds to locate in the West Palm Beach city limits. We rented a car and did some sightseeing and swimming. The season was late spring but we found that temperatures during the summer were not unbearably high.
Pat threw a kind of house warming party at her place when we returned. I gave up my apartment and moved in with Pat until we moved to Florida. I invited two men and their wives from our office and Pat invited her lady boss and two other couples. It was a Friday night and no one had to go to work the next morning. We danced to Pat's hi-fi tape recorder and the liquor flowed until the early hours of the morning. The other couples had gradually drifted home until only Amelia, Pat and I were left.
"Let me help you clean up this mess," Amelia said to Pat when Pat began collecting empty glasses and emptying ashtrays.
"Pat and I can take care of it okay." I protested. "Yeah, I know you can. But it was a good party and I can't let my two favorite people do all the dirty work. It's not much for the three of us," she said and she poked me playfully in the side.
I was feeling no pain and did something I wouldn't have done if I'd been sober. I tickled her on either side of her waist. She squealed and said, "Pat, help me with this guy of yours. I think he's getting fresh." But Amelia's brown eyes were sparkling mischievously and she was laughing as she said it. Pat set some empty glasses down and approached.
"Let's give him some of his own medicine," she said. She dove for one of my arms and called, "Grab his other arm."
I tried to avoid them but I was too slow and clumsy. Each one hung onto an arm and I didn't have the strength to get free of them. "Two against one is no fair." I complained.
"It is when it's two women against one man," said Amelia and she freed one hand and began to tickle me. Then Pat started on me on the other side. I couldn't break away from them and I squirmed and twisted. I couldn't help laughing but I had to get some relief. I sagged down on the floor and they weren't strong enough to hold me up. But they knelt down with me and kept it up. "Stop," I gasped, "I can't stand it." Tears had appeared in the corners of my eyes from the fits of laughing.
"Let's pants him," suggested Pat.
"You do and I'll pants you." I wheezed.
"Look who's bragging. Hang onto him Amelia."
Pat began to fumble at my belt "Might as well undress him and put him to bed. He's drunk." Pat said.
"Okay," Amelia said, "I'll undo his shirt."
Pat's grip on my arm slipped and I found my hand free. I quickly slipped it up her skirt and grabbed a hand full of her panties. She grabbed for my hand but all she succeeded in doing was help me to tear the flimsy stuff away from her. "Mike, let go," she squealed. But it was too late. She had only the remnants of the waist and legs still on her.
"You're next, Amelia," I threatened.
"Hah," she chortled, "You're the one that'll be next my fine friend."
They'd regained control of me and no matter what I did, I couldn't prevent them from undressing me. If I resisted, they weakened me by tickling me. But at last they had me down to my shorts and Amelia seemed unsure if they were to proceed further. She relaxed momentarily and I was able to break free of her. I reached quickly up her legs and got a grip on her panties. She was in an awkward position supporting herself on one hand and couldn't divert me from my intention with the one hand she had free.
"Mike ... " she squealed as her panties tore free. "You ... you. . . " she panted helplessly.
But this decided her on stripping me naked and the two women tore my cotton shorts off me as I had torn their panties from them. "Let's get him in the bedroom and put him to bed," said Pat.
I tried resisting tactics, making them drag me but they resorted to tickling again. "Come on," cried Amelia, "On your feet it you don't want us to tickle you." I was nearly exhausted and I let them help me to my feet. The room reeled around me and they had to help support me as they helped me to one of the spare bedrooms.
They had pushed me down onto a big double bed when I heard Pat say, "How would you like to rape him Amelia?" I wondered dimly if Pat harbored some deep seated resentment against the rapings I'd committed and was inviting Amelia to revenge.
"Do that to your husband? I'd like to, but I don't want to get pregnant," Amelia said doubtfully.
"Not a thing to worry about. He's sterile. He can only shoot blanks," Pat assured her.
"You wouldn't mind?" Amelia said, still doubtful.
"It's the least I can do for my old boss ... a kind of going away present in reverse," Pat said recklessly.
"How are we going about it. . . ? " began Amelia.
"I'll get it hard for him ... and I don't think he'll struggle much when you get on," Pat said.
In the semi-darkness I could see the two women peeling off their dresses. In a moment they were both naked. Now that I knew what they were going to do, I had little inclination to struggle. But I put up a token struggle to let Pat know hat I wasn't welcoming what they were about to do to me. I could feel Pat fooling around with me and I must have gotten hard because Amelia got on top of me and after a little fumbling around, began working her fanny rhythmically up and down. The two of them were kissing me, I could feel numbly, but I lost all sense of time.
Then I heard Amelia say, "I came off, but he's still hard. Do you want to have a go?"
"Would you rather have a try at coming off again? I can get all I want later," Pat said. Then I lost track of what they agreed on and I couldn't tell which one got on the second time.
I was in a dim fog and couldn't remember if I'd reached my own climax or not, but the next thing I knew, the two of them were helping me into the bathroom. I was in no condition to stand for a shower so they sat me down in the tub and after filling it with water, they washed and dried me off. Then they must have helped me into Pat's room because I woke up there the next morning with Pat beside me. I found out later that Amelia had spent the night in the guest room. My recollection of what happened was pretty fuzzy but I put together this account from what I remembered and what the two women said in kidding me about the night before. I had a hangover that I thought would keep my head from going through the door, but the women seemed none the worse for wear. They fed me a couple of bloody marys and I began to feel a little better.
I found later that Pat had let her hair down a little at this party because she knew she'd be moving away and it wasn't very important any more what people thought. It was the last sexual escaped in that area for me and I was relieved that I wouldn't have to worry about running into any former victims.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When I moved out of my apartment into Pat's, I didn't have much in the way of possessions to worry about. But Pat had a houseful of furniture. We were discussing what to do with it when we moved to Florida one evening.
"It cost so much when we bought it, it seems a shame to let it go for little or nothing now," said Pat.
"Yes, but it'll cost almost as much as you could sell it for to ship it ... and we won't need three bedrooms. What will you do with two extra bedrooms and have one guest room. Then we'd have to dispose of only one bedroom of furniture." Pat suggested.
"I'm afraid if we set up a guest room we'd have a steady stream of guests every winter." I said.
"Oh Tommie, we don't have that many friends and you know it." Pat said with some irritation.
"I know, honey. But you wait and see. I'll bet there'll be people you've forgotten you even met who'll be looking us up and hoping for an invitation to stay over for a few days or a week. Anyway, I'd just as soon see you sell your furniture ... or sell your house furnished . ... and we can get you some new stuff when we find a place to suit us down there." I wanted to get her something pretty from me. I didn't like to see so much about her ex-husband around.
"Can I save a few things to take with us? There's some things my mother gave me and ... "
"Of course, honey." I interrupted. "We can rent a trailer for the few things you want to save for sentimental reasons ... and there's our clothes that we'll have to take along."
I had written a letter to one of our branch offices in Fort Lauderdale and one of the men there had answered it giving me some much needed advice. He also warned us about buying a frame house because of the termite problem. Pat and I spent several evenings deciding what to do and how to do it. I had long since disposed of the telephone company truck and I almost regretted it. We had two automobiles and Pat didn't like the idea of each of us driving separately. I got around that by getting a tow bar that would allow the towed vehicle to steer itself. We had room enough in the towed car to load our belongings instead of renting a trailer.
It was midsummer before we started south. It was hot and we drove in easy stages, stopping during the hottest part of the day by a lake or brook, or when we were in the mountains, at a lookout where the view was good. We stopped early in the evening to be sure of a good motel room but we got an early start in the morning, often driving an hour or two before stopping for breakfast. Pat had picked up a small two cup pot that we used to make a cup of coffee in before leaving in the morning and it helped make the first hour or two of driving bearable.
It took us more than a week driving like this to get to our destination. We had already arranged to rent a furnished apartment on the beach for the off season of several months to give us time to find a house. There were several things like dishes that we didn't bother to unpack since these were furnished with the apartment and we'd only have to repack them when we moved. The first weekend we had to watch ourselves in swimming that we didn't get a bad sunburn. We had never before had a chance to swim in water so delightfully warm. We reveled in our new life those first few weeks. Pat brought it up one evening when we were strolling along the beach barefooted.
"Mike, do you notice a different feeling ... about us ... almost as though we were really living for the first time?" she asked.
"I know what you mean." I admitted. "It's like right now I feel like jumping in the water, clothes and all."
"That's what I mean!" she exclaimed. "I feel like I've come to the land of the orgies." She tugged me by the hand and led me into the water until we were waist deep, with small waves about a foot high washing up onto our chests. We were dressed in shorts and Pat wore an old shirt with nothing under it. When her shirt got wet, her breasts were outlined as though she was wearing nothing at all.
"Wow! Look at that!" I cried and I grabbed her to me, cupping first one mound of quivering, wet flesh and then the other. Pat laughed and flung her arms around my neck and she kissed me almost savagely. I held her tightly and when my lips were free, I growled into her ear, "If it was a little darker I'd screw you right here on the beach."
"I can wait if you can," she giggled.
"Well, you ravishing critter, let's wallow down the beach a ways, then." I suggested with a grin.
We splashed our way towards a deserted part of the beach, arm in arm. As the darkness deepened, Pat unbuttoned her shirt so that it was only the wetness of the cloth that kept it covering her charms at least partly. When she stopped a little distance further and stepped out of her shorts and panties, I grabbed her again, but instead of kissing her, I bit her gently on the neck. She squealed and jammed herself against me. So in the gathering darkness I took her, our feet washed by the warm waves.
She had rested her head on her wet shorts to keep the sand out of her hair and when we were finished, we washed ourselves in the salt water and she washed the sand out of her shorts and panties. She put them back on after wringing them out and we headed back for the apartment. We took showers with our clothes on to rinse out the salt and then lay around the apartment naked with the lights turned low and the windows open to the warm, but comfortable, breeze blowing in off the ocean. We had air conditioning but neither off us felt the needed or desire for it after our episode down the beach.
"This is what I call livin'" I said. "All we need now is a drink before dinner."
"Want me to be bartender?" asked Pat.
"That would be nice. I'm tired after doing all that work on the beach." I chuckled.
"Work!" Pat came up out of her chair and pounced on me. "I'll bust you in the mouth for a crack like that," and she swung her breast into my face. I seized the nipple with my mouth and teased the nipple with my tongue.
She fell into my lap and I held her there nuzzling her neck and squeezing her breasts. At last she murmured into my ear, "Shame on you for calling it work. I thought it was fun ... even if I had to be the one on top."
"When she came back, she was wearing an apron with a bib that came up over her breasts. I had long ago convinced her that a scantily dressed woman was more attractive to a man than a completely naked woman. She bent over to set my drink down and allowed me to look down the bib of the apron at her dangling breasts. Then when she straightened up, she turned around and said, "Hoy do you like my new backless mini-dress?"
"Very attractive, honey," I said, "It reminds me of an outfit I saw on a burlesque dancer once."
"I'll take that as a compliment," she said with a pleased smile.
"Come love your husband a little, Mrs. Shields." I demanded and she came close to me and held my head to her breasts while my arms went around her. "I love you, honey." I told her tenderly.
"I love you, too, honey," she said.
I had read how much a woman wants to be told that her husband loves her and I'd made up mind that I was going to work at making Pat happy.
Our whole attitude towards life changed, we could notice, those first few months in Florida. I didn't think it was so necessary to work as hard as I had back north. But I knew I had to get something done so I went around looking for an office. I left the problem of furnishing it to an interior decorator and devoted my own energies to some house-to-house canvassing to help pay for the expenses I was running up. And then I ran into a different situation.
I discovered that most of the people living in the area were transplanted northerners like myself and had similar feelings about living it up in Florida. One in particular sticks in my mind because it influenced us in the kind of house Pat and I began to look for. It was the middle of summer and the temperature was hovering in the low nineties. It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon and I didn't plan on making more than one call for the afternoon.
I rang the bell at the door several times and had almost decided that no one was home when the door opened and a woman stood there in a robe with damp hair and beads of water on her face. "I'm sorry you had to wait. I was taking a swim. Can I help you?" she apologized.
I didn't feel much like selling so I didn't give her my usual pitch. "I'm selling mutual funds, but you look like you were too comfortable and having a good time to ask you to listen to me talk about investing in funds." I said tiredly.
She broke into a grin. "Now there's a new selling angle I never hear before. You look warm. Come on in and have a cold drink," she said as she swung the door wider. I'd learned not to wear a hat because this tipped off the regular residents that you were a tourist. It was easier to be polite without going through the motions of taking a hat off.
"Thank you, ma'am." I said as I entered.
She closed the door and led me out onto the patio beside a swimming pool. She waved me into a wicker chair next to a table and asked, "Would you like a cold beer ... or a cocktail? Or a cold Coke,. . . ?
"I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Michael Shields ... and a Coke would be fine, ma'am." I answered.
"I'm Jean Dalton, Mr. Shields," she held out her hand and I shook it. It was cool and moist. "Be back in a minute." She strode back into the living room and through a door I assumed led to the kitchen. She returned a couple of minutes later with two glasses with ice floating in the dark liquid. She handed one to me and I said "Thanks," as she sat down on the other side of the table. I took a grateful sip of the cool liquid and then set my glass down.
"This is a beautiful place you have here, Mrs. Dalton." I observed. The living room opened onto the patio through spacious sliding glass doors and the patio and pool were protected from insects by a screened enclosure. The patio was floored with a slate-like stone set in cement but thick rugs were scattered over it here and there. I noted that shrubbery surrounded the pool in such a way as to give complete privacy.
"Yes, the pool is a good substitute for air conditioning. I don't like to be cooped up inside all day, so I cool off in the pool. We turn on the air conditioning in the evening so it'll be comfortable for sleeping," she explained.
"This is the kind of place we ought to look for." I said as I looked around.
"Are you renting? ... living in an apartment?" she asked.
"We're renting an apartment on the beach. We've only been down a few months. We'll have to find a place before the winter season arrives ... but I hadn't thought of getting a place with a pool. Do you use it much?" I said.
"Nearly every day in the summer ... but very rarely in the winter. There's a place for sale about a block down the street that has a pool. How many bedrooms do you need?" she said.
'Two bedrooms would do, I think. We could use one as a guest room." I answered.
"A guest room? Don't you have any children?" she asked in surprise.
"Afraid not." I answered dryly.
"You must be in your thirties. How did you manage that? Or is it that they're grown up and married," she suggested.
"I never could have any children ... I'm sterile." I told her frankly.
"Oh that's too bad," she said sympathetically.
"Not at all. I'm not the kind that would have much patience with kids. But about that house, can you give me the address so that I can look it up?" I pursued.
"It belongs to friends of ours who need a bigger place. It has only two bedrooms and their children are getting old enough to need separate rooms. I think you'd like it. The living room has exposed beams and a fireplace ... and you could make the second bedroom into a den if you changed your mind about having a guest room. Some people are pestered all winter with guests when the word gets around. She wrote a name and address on the pad of paper I handed to her and handed it back to me.
"Now what's with this mutual funds business?" she asked.
"Would you rather listen to me talk about that than swim in your pool?" I asked.
"My afternoons get pretty dull, Mr. Shields. I can't spend all afternoon in the pool ... not alone, anyway ... and I'd rather talk to somebody like you than watch television," she said.
I pricked up my ears. There were little hints in what she had said that long experience had taught me when a woman was ripe for an affair. My interest in affairs like this had declined so that it was primarily a means of getting new accounts. But this was a handsome woman and the situation was a novel one for me. I went through my standard pitch but I kept it at low pressure.
"It sounds almost like a get-rich-quick scheme. What's the catch?" she said.
"No, you won't get rich quick. But you could double your money in three years if you left everything in it to accumulate and reinvest it as it became available. There's more risk than in banking it, but you have professional investors who are spending all of their time making sure that their investments are safe and profitable." I explained.
"It sounds interesting to me. My husband has always wanted to put some of our money in stocks, but he didn't know anything about investing and he was afraid he'd lose it," she said.
'This is just what these funds were intended for, people like you." I assured her.
"You've got me sold, but I'll have to talk it over with my husband first," she said.
"Of course," I agreed, and then I leaned back in my chair. I was almost sorry it was over. It was comfortable and pleasant sitting there in the shade from the overhang of the room.
"Would you like to go for a swim?" she asked.
"I sure would, but I don't carry a suit around with me." I said with a wry grin.
"Who needs a suit?" she asked and she stood up. She walked to the edge of the pool and with her back to me, she dropped the robe from her shoulders. She was sark naked. She stepped to the edge and dove in. She surfaced and turned towards me. "Come on in. The water's fine"
I didn't need any other encouragement. I bent to remove my shoes and in a minute or two I was down to my undershorts. I slipped out of them and without hesitation, dove into the pool from a run. The water was just cool enough to be pleasantly exhilarating as it caressed my skin. When I surfaced, I found that I couldn't see as much of Jean Dalton's charms as I had supposed. The surface of the water was disturbed by our own activity so that I couldn't see clearly through it. When I ducked under the surface, her form could be seen only as a blur. But she was plainly interested in a romp. She splashed me as I faced her and a splashed back, slowly backing her into a comer. I was never interested in competitive sports but I had always been a good, strong swimmer. But just as I thought I was close enough to grab her, she laughed and dove past me. Although I touched her, I couldn't maintain a hold on her slippery, wet skin.
I dove after her, swimming under water after her blurred form I could see dimly ahead of me. She couldn't see me when she surfaced and I was so close that I got my arms around her before she could escape again. I found the bottom under my feet as I surfaced so instead of touching her anywhere sexually, I stooped, and with a hand under a foot, I tossed her into the air. She came down with a splash and came to the surfaces sputtering. "Wait, Mike. I got water up my nose." She sneezed, and then sneezed again.
I swam over to her. "Are you okay?" I asked.
"I will be in a minute." She ducked her head under water to eye level and blew vigorously through her nose. She stood up and I caught my breath. Her breasts were afloat, sloshing around in the moving water in a very enticing fashion. I couldn't stop myself. I took her in my arms and kissed her wet mouth. She clung to me and one arm crept around my neck. I'd never made love to a woman in a swimming pool before and my peter was erect from the novelty of it. The thought entered my mind fleetingly of what I should do if her husband should come in on us. But an unfamiliar recklessness had seized me. If Jean wasn't worried, why should I be?
When her lips were free, she said against my cheek, "We can have some fun afterwards, but let's play a little first. like pick me up on your shoulders."
I turned her loose and said, "Open your legs."
She turned her back to me and spread her legs apart. I dove down and swam so that my head went through her legs. Just before I stood up, I blew some bubbles. When I was on my feet and Jean was on my shoulders, she said to me, "Oh Mike, put me down and blow some bubbles over me again."
But I was enjoying the feel of her thighs alongside my cheeks and I said, "Let me catch my breath first." While I walked around with her on my head. Finally I dumped her off me backwards and she went into the water squealing. She stood up and smoothed her hair back out of her face.
"Let me float face down in the water and you blow bubbles under me, Mike."
"Okay, Jean," I agreed.
She lay face down in the water with her arms over her head. I dove under her and rolled onto my back. I had to hold myself under water against my buoyancy by holding her body with my hands. I started blowing bubbles against her breasts and then gradually worked down to the hairy patch between her legs. When I was out of air and came gasping to the surface, she got to her feet. She wiped the water out of her face with her hands and pushed her hair back. Then she looked at me with strange eyes.
"Blow them again, will you Mike? But from between my legs this time?" she asked.
I was still puffing. "Let me get my breath again." I said. I wondered what it was doing to her that she wanted me to blow the bubbles so much. After a minute I said, "I guess I'm ready. Open your legs."
She was facing me this time and I went under and held myself under by holding onto her ankles. Again I blew a stream of bubbles. I tried to guide them so that most of them went up the front of her but some went up her back, too. Finally I was out of air and had to surface. She was standing with her head thrown back and her eyes closed.
"Are you all right, Jean?" I asked and I waded towards her.
She half opened her eyes. "Jesus Christ, Mike, those bubbles made me hot. Make love to me ... screw me ... do something."
I couldn't believe it. "The bubbles got you hot? How ... ? "
"Let's not talk about it now. Do something now. Talk about it later," she urged. She put her arms around me and hugged me to her. She was practically weightless in the water and I raised her up to kiss her. My peter was hard and erect and I felt ground with it in an attempt to impale her with it. I found her opening and managed to work myself into her, but the water was washing out her lubricating juices so that there was more friction than usual. I worked her back and forth on me with my hands on her hips while she hung on to me with her arms around my neck. Her breasts were sloshing against my chest with her motion. Her lips clung to mine in one long continuous kiss while she panted through her nose. She began to give petulant little cries in her throat and her grip on me tightened as she approached her climax. She hooked her heels behind my legs and began to help me. I thought she would come before I did but she was holding off longer than I expected. At last my climax came just as she began to tremble and her motions became a frenzy. Her lips at last broke away and she hung onto me panting while I held myself in her.
"Oh, but that was a good piece of ass," she murmured sleepily.
"Did you ever do it in the pool before?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No. I never thought about trying it with my husband, and I didn't expect to do it in the pool with you. But when those bubbles got me hot ... " She didn't finish the sentence.
"What did the bubbles do to you?" I asked with curiosity.
"They tickled me all over. It was like ... well, it was like I had tits all over my body and somebody sucking on every one of 'em. Do you know what sucking on a woman's tit does to her?"
"I've got an idea." I grinned
She arched her back and my peter fell out of her. "Now wasn't this an interesting afternoon?"
"Better than watching TV." I admitted with another grin.
"And we don't even have to worry about cleaning up ... but you better not be kidding about being sterile," she said.
I kissed her briefly. "Don't worry, I've been shooting blanks for nearly twenty years."
I had spent nearly two hours with Jean but it was time I was getting on my way. Her kids would be getting home from school and I preferred not to be caught in informal circumstances. She kissed me goodbye at the door and invited, "Come on back for a swim again some afternoon."
"Thanks. Maybe I will after you've had a chance to talk over the mutual funds with your husband." I promised.
I did see her many times after that, but it was because we became neighbors. Pat and I bought the house that Jean referred us to and we had some naughty parties in each other's pools.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I'm in my forties now, the "dangerous" age for men I'm told. This is the age when men are supposed to feel their youth slipping away and they make fools of themselves trying to prove that they can still attract younger women. But I feel no desire to prove anything to anybody. Pat's the only woman for me.
Except for a brief flurry of sex with my customer when we first came to Florida, I've stuck pretty faithfully with Pat. We tried wife swapping once, but Pat was so good in bed that I hated to give her up for somebody else's pleasure. Pat was willing to try it for my sake but we had gotten used to each other and we couldn't have as much fun with some one else.
The mutual funds office prospered after hired a couple of salesmen. I chose one because he was an older man who liked to play golf. He sold funds to the winter visitors he met on the golf course. The other man was a college graduate in his late twenties. He was good looking as well as smart and I trained him to sell mutual funds the way I had found it so successful, selling to bored, lonesome women.
Our own fortunes prospered. We had a comfortable bank account, all our bills were paid, and we had securities worth about thirty thousand dollars ... and they were still growing. Our home was paid for and Pat had her own car to drive around in. She still worked in a university library because she would have been bored sitting home and doing nothing. I was glad to see her working after the women I had known selling funds. I wasn't jealous of Pat but I didn't want to lose her.
When I look back at my life, I sometimes wonder how I got away with it. I guess I'm more timid now, the price of old age, I guess. But I can't say that I regret anything I did. I can't think of any real harm I did to anybody. If I was to weigh the good with the harm, I think the good would far outweigh any harm. I didn't even feel that I had been responsible for having done anything to the husbands of the women I went to bed with. Their wives were the ones who did the harm to their husbands. I never took a man's wife against the woman's will. What those women did with me they would have done with others. There was nothing that I alone was responsible for.
The women I raped, I felt, wanted to be loved. They might have preferred to be loved under some other circumstances, and some of them had invited me to visit them again under better circumstances, but most of them had enjoyed the love and sex I gave them in the guise of a raping. A few women actually wanted to be raped as long as the rapist was. clean and gentle with them. What surprises me the most was that of the hundreds of women I had raped, not a single one had reported me to the police. I sometimes wonder how many other people like me had been raping their victims and getting away with it. I wonder if they treated their victims as well as I did.
I might be tempted after all this experience with women to say that I understood women. But this wouldn't be true. I've selected the women in my memoirs because they were so different from each other that they stuck in my mind. Not every man's sister would screw her brother but mine did. I wonder how many other brothers have screwed their sisters ... and how many of them are under a psychiatrists care, not for what they did, but from the guilt they felt for having done it.
I'm not bad looking but I'm certainly not handsome. Why did these women yield to me so readily? I know that I selected most of them pretty carefully so that I knew they would be hungry for love and sex, but why me? Wouldn't any woman find me unattractive? If there is a universal truth about women I think it is that they'll love almost any man who loves them enough. I'm sure that Pat loves me and it's not that I'm just around to give her sex. It's true that she told me she'd work at making me happy if I would marry her, but the unselfish act of working at it turned into love. And make no mistake, I love her too. I love Pat because she seems to me the most wonderful woman I have ever known, but she loves me because I love her. I was far from being a wonderful man when she first met me.
If I was to live my life over, I'm not sure that I would do the same things that I did. But I don't regret anything that I did do.
