Laura's mouth flew open when she realized she was looking at a sketch of a penis. Her lips felt numb, and low in her stomach she felt a sensation that was somewhere between nausea and the feeling one gets on the first big dip of a roller coaster. She held up the paper on which it had been drawn and looked through it to confirm the obscenity--and it was there, even though it had been erased: A hard penis, fitted with testicles and wings, leaped across the circular chart, as if to attack her thumb.
How disgusting! People who doodled at all were idlers, and the people who doodled such obscenities as this were little better than animals. Perry Coleman should be locked in a cage for doing that, or better yet, he should never have been released from the cage that had once held him. The winged penis proved he was a sex pervert as well as a convicted criminal, and hopefully it would be enough to get him fired. The brazen insult had been done on company paper and on company time, and it should certainly be enough for Coleman's dismissal. Mr. Markham would probally keep him on, though. At times Mr. Markham was entirely too lenient, especially when it came to Perry Coleman, and he'd undoubtedly be just as lenient with other of the ex-convicts at Consolidated Chemicals who might go to work in Plant Engineering as laboratory technicians. Laura didn't believe In hiring supposedly rehabilitated criminals to begin with; and once they were hired, she certainly didn't believe in coddling them.
The eighteen-year-old secretary took off her glasses to look at the horrid vulgarity more closely, seeing it still more clearly without the spectacles she'd bought to give herself a more mature appearance. Defaced and erased though it was, she was still certain the drawing represented a penis. But Mr. Markham would dismiss it as something else, and Chuck would just laugh it off. She set her full lips grimly and took her eraser in hand to complete the job. She filed away the chart on which it had been drawn and forced the matter out of her mind.
It was Wednesday, the fat part of the week, and Laura Dandridge was having another in a long string of good days at work. With few exceptions, each of her two hundred twenty days spent working at Consolidated Chemicals had been good ones, and this one had been going particularly well until she'd been exposed to that dirty scrawl on the chart. She was all by herself in the office, handling the phone calls, typing the memos, bringing the data books up to date, and doing it all very well. She was confident that not many girls her age could be trusted with all the responsibilities she so capably handled, and also more modestly aware that this was largely because she'd been in training for her job ever since she could remember. Consolidated was her life, and she loved it. She had a long way to go before she would realize her ultimate ambition there, but she'd come a long way a1ready.
She had a desk of her own with a nameplate on it, the nicest boss in the whole big organization, the respect of her fellow employees, and from her window a grand view of the big, complex plant that turned out so many chemicals essential for industry. She had other fringe benefits even more rewarding, as well as the few irritants that went along, with any good thing. Well, there was only one real irritant, and it went by the name of Perry Coleman, and the less she thought about having to face him at the end of the day, the better that day would be.
Laura's training for her job had begun at the knees of her parents, both former employees of Consolidated, and both sadly gone and badly missed now. Her parents had had a company romance. Twenty years before, her mother, had been a librarian at the Sulfur City plant, and her father a young, ambitious mechanical engineer transferred in from the main plant in Michigan. His transfer had been a part of his training program. He was to spend a year at each of various key plants of Consolidated and in ten years or less, move into the upper echelons of Engineering Management. But love had blossomed there in the industrial environment, and before two months of his first year in training had passed, he was married to her mother. This was strictly against company policy at the time, and of course Consolidated had found out about it. Her father had been dropped from the engineering training program, but the benevolent company had bent the rules and allowed both her mother and her father to stay on at the Sulfur City plant.
Her mother bad worked her way up to the position of Chief Librarian, and her father had contented himself with reaching the top in plant engineering there, though that was a far cry from the goals he'd set for himself as an ambitious young college graduate. Through the years, work had been the favorite topic of discussion around the house, and even as a schoolgirl, Laura had known the various departments and problems at the Sulfur City plant. With this background, she'd had plans to work for a year or two at Consolidated, saving her money, and then attend a good engineering school with the help of the company's Educational Assistance program. The sweetest of her fringe benefits had come along then to try to alter those plans, and his name was Chuck Davids.
Working in the same engineering training program as her father, the young chemical engineer had been transferred in to the very office in which Laura worked, and they'd fallen in love. Now he was after her to quit her job and marry him, to share in his career as he moved from plant to plant, up the corporate ladder. His offer was tempting. She loved him and she wanted to share in his life, his ambitions, perhaps even at the expense of her own ambitions. He wanted her answer, and she'd promised it at the end of another ten days--days in which the two young people would largely be apart, first with Chuck at an engineering convention with their boss, Mr. Markham, then with Laura on her week's vacation, thinking things out. On that Wednesday, Laura was not certain what her decision would be. There'd be time to think of it during the next week, and now was the time for work, for she had a lot to do before she could properly leave the Plant Engineering office unattended.
She worked steadily. The only one who came into the office that day was Stanley Phipps, the mail boy, and he came in several times. Both Chuck and Mr. Markham took great joy in making her blush by saying that young Stanley was in love with her. She secretly admitted to herself that the diminutive, bashful boy did have a crush on her. At nineteen, he was a year older than Laura, but be looked ten years younger. He was perpetually grinning and stammering and trying to talk to her about the inane things that interested him, but at least he didn't try to ogle her like some of the men in the plant did--like Perry Coleman, for instance.
Although Laura's figure was well-developed-too much so, in her opinion--she gave the men little to ogle at. She wore no make-up other than a dab of pale lipstick, and she held her long, dark hair coiled on the back of her head with chromed barrettes. She wore a brassiere which minimized the jiggling of her breasts and covered this with a slip and a high-necked, long-sleeved blouse. Her skirts were hemmed an inch above her knee, and she wore flat shoes. She wore hose and a garter belt in addition to her panties, because she didn't like the intimacy of panty-hose against her upper thighs. Her skirts were usually dark blue, her blouses usually snow-white. She tried to set a quiet example for the other girls at Consolidated, but they persisted in attiring themselves as flamboyantly as company policy would permit.
Laura ate lunch in the office. It was a substantial lunch, made the night before in her little apartment and brought to work in a brown-paper bag,. She only left the office that afternoon to answer a call of nature, and she accomplished a great deal of work by four-fifteen. It was then time to perform her last task of the day, that of picking up the charts and data from the pilot plant, where Perry Coleman worked. The very thought of seeing the obscenely minded ex-convict gave her that unpleasant feeling in her stomach. She dawdled, and the clock ticked on, and at last she decided she'd work an hour late and pick them up when he was gone. That decision was a relief, and getting the daily information to the office an hour late would not be shirking her responsibilities. She worked on until precisely five-thirty, locked the office, then left.
The pilot plant was located at a far corner of the four-hundred-acre plant site, and Laura drove to it in her white VW bug, expecting Coleman to be gone. He worked there as a watchman for the data-taking instruments. His employment came as a part of the Manpower Rehabilitation program, and his job and good behavior were, a part of his parole from prison, where he'd served five years on a counterfeiting charge. On the surface he was a model employee, but Laura knew very well that this was only a facade, that the criminal had been far from rehabilitated. Now, approaching the little concrete building, the sinking feeling returned to her stomach as she saw his car still parked there. He was working late, probably trying to repair an instrument, and she'd have to face him after all. She was steeling herself for this ordeal as she rounded the bend in the road, and it was then that she saw the other car parked there.
It was a garish little sports car, one she'd seen parked in the main lot, and she knew it had no business being there, guessing it belonged to some other ex-convict who might be plotting a crime with Coleman. They could be making bogus hundred-dollar bills there each night after work. They might be planning a payroll robbery. It might be in elaborate embezzlement scheme. But that was foolish. It was her overactive imagination at work again. Mr. Markham was right, Perry Coleman was harmless, and the car might belong to a second-shift maintenance man, there to keep the pilot plant functioning. She parked and walked the last fifty feet over soft ground.
She realized she was all tensed up, on the balls of her feet, leaning forward to peer through the window before she reached it, and it took an effort to relax. She unclenched her fists and rubbed her hands over her thighs and made herself breathe more slowly. As she neared the window, however, she couldn't help but hope she'd be instrumental in averting a crime.
Laura was immediately sorry she'd looked, for there before her, not ten feet away, was the most shocking, the most disgusting spectacle she'd ever seen in her life. Perry Coleman was naked, sifting in a straight-backed chair, and astraddle his lap, facing him, was an even more shamelessly naked woman. She had artificial red hair, and her skin looked almost blue-white in comparison to Coleman's olive complexion, gleaming with a thin film of perspiration now from their odious exertions. He looked lean and hard, like burnished oak, and she looked soft and flabby, like a gross, obscene marshmallow--but animated. The woman was obviously in agony, and rightly so, for he had one long hand clamped over her left breast and was twisting it as if to screw it off her body. And far, far worse, he had her impaled on his penis. The amazingly thick thing, gleaming wet, was stuck right in the center of the woman's thatch of brown, matted hair, the stout shaft splitting labia that were swollen and inflamed by the torment being put to her. He was adding to that torment by inflicting her vulva with the moving fingers of his other hand, as well as with his mercifully motionless penis.
Laura's' first impulse was to crash through the window and save her, but then the woman did something so foul and desecrating that she proved herself beyond redemption.
With her arms about his neck and her red-smeared mouth agape, she leaned forward with her bright-pink tongue stuck out and wriggling like some awful worm. He met it with his, and as they hung there with their lips not touching, furiously tangling tongues, she began to work her big hips vigorously on his lap.
Laura had to leave before she became ill. She had to get out of there before she witnessed even one more second of the awful invasion of a female's most delicate parts by that man's grotesquely huge pole. She walked away stiff-legged and straight-backed, her face burning with shame for the female of her species, and even then she couldn't escape them entirely.
"Oh, fuck! Fuck me! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
It could have been either or both of their voices; it could have been a cry from hell, but whatever its source it made Laura break into a headlong run, hands over her ears, not caring how much noise she made in escaping them. Nearing her car, she tripped and fell, and even before she hit the ground she knew they'd catch her. She lost more precious seconds in clutching at her crotch to keep from wetting her pants in her sheer panic.
When she chanced to look behind her, the pilot plant was as she'd left it, the window looking properly barren again as, behind it, the sex-crazed degenerates went about their dirty business without even knowing someone had witnessed their shame. With great calm, Laura picked herself up, brushed her clothing and proceeded on to her car. She observed all the traffic laws driving home, walked up the stairs to her apartment with decorum. It wasn't until she had her back against the locked door that she allowed herself to break down for a moment and heave several heavy sighs of relief. She washed her hands and face and had a small glass of her cooking sherry, and then she felt better.
Her appetite had failed her, but the ritual of cooking dinner was good for her. She methodically ate it. It was after dark when she went to take her second shower of the day. Undressing in her bathroom, she caught sight of her face in the mirror. Her deep-blue eyes looked even larger than usual and her heavy lips more crimson, and in the frame of her glossy black hair, her face was almost dead white, a testament to the fear that still dwelt in her. She looked as white as that awful woman.
The hunger, the animal lust on her face. Nostrils flared and eyes heavy-lidded but bright, so very bright. Red mouth agape, panting directly into his. And his face, cruelly handsome, sinisterly luring the slut on, and somehow able to grin even through the lust that showed on it.
The errant thoughts brought spots of rosy color to Laura's cheeks, and she spun away from the mirror. Taking off her bra, she consoled herself with the knowledge that Coleman would be fired on the morrow. Her breasts felt full and slightly sore from the tight brassiere, and as she massaged away the indented strap marks, she looked down and confirmed the fact that her breasts were much better shaped than the woman's, though not so large.
The woman had known ecstasy when he was mauling her there. Her big, pink-tan nipples had beckoned to him as surely as her tongue had. And his nipples, much smaller, much darker, and standing stiff like the woman's.
Laura's nipples, bright pink, were standing at attention, and she looked away from them as she kicked off her shoes and rolled off her hose. She sincerely hoped Personnel wouldn't merely transfer Coleman to another plant. Taking off her skirt, she wondered whatever had attracted the woman to him to begin with. She started off with her prim, white panties and when their crotch stuck to her she thought for a moment that she had indeed wet her pants in her first terror. But when she touched her black-thatched vulva she realized with a shock that it was a sexual secretion that was so warm and slimy there.
That brown crotch, saturated with moisture, matting the hairs and undoubtedly reeking far more pungently than what Laura's nostrils were then detecting. The red, red lips, swollen to bursting, yet clasping and sucking at that huge shaft. And the shaft itself, incredibly big, glistening wet from the woman's juices. His hair as black as Laura's but standing stiff, like the penis that jutted from it to seek a hole, any hole.
The cold water in the shower strengthened her resolve to rid the company of the former criminal. Perhaps his conduct might end the entire foolish criminal rehabilitation program. But as long as Coleman was gone, that was all that mattered. She emerged from the shower shivering and goosefleshed, and the thick towel felt good as she briskly rubbed herself dry. She wondered how they could possibly have done it in a chair, in that brightly lit instrument room, instead of in the proper fashion, face to face, heart to heart, in the warm darkness of a marital bed.
Her pale softness and his dark hardness, and how well the contrasts had merged! Lean legs twined around softly curved ones. Long, slow, breathless kisses. A hard, pulsing chest to mash the woman's breasts flat and at the same time fill them with life. The feeling of a man so close he was actually inside her, and strong arms pulling her even closer. And lights turned so low that the face before her was an unidentifiable blur.
Laura dropped the towel on the floor and went into her bedroom. Her legs felt as weak as when they'd failed her at the pilot plant, and her entire body felt heavy and full. She felt 111cc lying down but she knew she couldn't sleep yet. She'd never be able to sleep soundly again as long as Coleman lived in Sulfur City. A man like him could even break in on her.
On her way to the closet she stopped before the mirror and assessed herself. Very objectively, she decided she had an excellent figure for an eighteen-year-old girl. Nice high breasts, not really too full, with generously large aureoles and nipples that were, at the moment, still quite prominent. A slender waist, and just the merest hint of a soft bulge at her tummy. Her hips did not flare too widely and there were no pads of fat hinging them to her admittedly flawless legs. Her complexion was fine everywhere, her muscle tone excellent, and her coloration a healthy pink and white. But she felt she should be two inches taller than her five-foot-five, and she knew that in profile her shape was not all that good. Her fanny stuck out too much, and looking at it like this made her think of the girl in the steno pool that had made the crass joke about putting a pillow under her behind prior to having sexual intercourse. And then there was the jarring effect of the triangle of hair that nestled too intimately in the juncture of her loins. She couldn't ignore that, though she tried.
Chuck would appreciate her body when they were married. Of course, he already did with his eyes and, to an extent, with his hands. She liked the way he looked at her at the office, and it felt so good when he stroked her back while they kissed, so passionately and so well. He'd appreciate her completely if they wed, for she was a normal, lovely, responsive woman. Her breasts felt good to the touch of her hands, and Chuck would enjoy touching and kissing them. Her vagina was normal, not big enough to take a member as ridiculously thick as Coleman's, but it would stretch enough so that in time she'd be able to accept Chuck's penis with comfort. She'd fleetingly felt the bulge of him when they were kissing and had at times glimpsed it in his trousers, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him in his patient waiting for her. But good things were worth waiting for, and it would be good with them. Even the intercourse. It would be more than merely comfortable, and she would get used to it, exercising with her fingers as she did.
Not that Laura masturbated any more. She'd quit that years ago, when she'd almost been caught by her mother. Now she used her fingers in her vagina to stretch it somewhat in preparation for successful coitus. To do this properly, she had to be well-lubricated, and for this reason she had to draw back the sheath and manipulate her clitoris. Then her two fingers slid easily into her vagina and she could very satisfyingly stretch that familiar but mysterious orifice, always very careful to preserve that little tissue of her hymen. She parted her legs and flexed her knees to do the exercise there, instead of in bed as she normally did.
She was so wet! She'd just toweled herself there very thoroughly and already the puffy lips of her vulva were brimming with juices. She was hot, and she didn't care. God, she could see it in the mirror without even having to feel the warm waves rippling through her. There was no need to draw back the sheath, for her clitoris was poking out of its own accord, and she mashed it and rubbed it as she worked two, then three fingers in her vagina, and it felt so good, so very good.
That other woman's vulva, redder than hers, and bigger. Coleman's penis ripping through it. Their tongues tangling. His tongue where her moving fingers were, right down there, in her cunt. His prick, nearly a foot long and as big around as her wrist, girdled by her hand, imbedded in her open crotch. Pricks and cunts and fucking. Kissing pricks and lapping cunts. Coleman's strong, white teeth sunk into her tittie. Writhing in ecstasy as he squirted his cum in her hot, hot cunt. Begging him for more, more! Working her ass fast and furiously, desperate to get all she could of the delicious friction and equally desperate to please him. And coming. Oh yes, coming!
With a groan, half of shame, half of bliss, Laura took her hands from her feverish body. As she staggered to the bathroom she told herself it was all right to masturbate now and then. She'd read that. She washed the stuff off her hands and crotch and carefully blotted herself dry. The towel was neatly hung on the rack before she went to her closet and selected a white-cotton, knee-length nightie. In it, she selected a chemistry book to read in bed, knowing that a novel would give her nightmares.
Safely in bed, she was still shaking, not from fear of Coleman now but from anger at him. In exposing his lust to her, he'd revealed a streak of the same weakness in herself, and she hated him for that. She hoped he'd resist his discharge and she'd get to see Chuck throw him bodily off the property. As tall as Coleman and heavier, Chuck could do it if Coleman didn't fight dirty. She'd see to it that the redheaded slut was fired too, for there was no room for people like that in the organization.
* * * *
Perry Coleman and Helen Peterson hadn't even heard Laura's VW outside the pilot plant, and twenty minutes after its departure, Helen was snugging black lacy panties over her sex-drenched and slightly numbed loins. She was smiling at Perry, stretched out naked on a test bench, cigarette in one hand and cock in the other. He was a good man to have around, a good fuck, and a welcome change from Bobby Barker. Bobby was younger and more muscular, but at twenty-eight, Perry was young enough, and the lean muscles he had were all put into play when he was throwing a gal a fuck. Best of all, he was a man who knew what he was doing. She was glad she'd encouraged him to approach her at the cafeteria that noon. She'd been good to him, but still it was nice to bear, and so she asked him, "Have a good time, lover?"
He nodded, smiling, for he'd had a bail. She might, be an executive secretary, but she knew what it was all about when it came to fucking. It went to prove that all career women weren't hard-assed, snot-nosed twerps like Laura Dandridge. Helen knew how to throw a fuck like an oversexed stripper, and she looked like one, too. Nice big tits and an ass with just the right amount of fat on it, a soft belly and a red-hot cunt whose muscular control had both amazed and thrilled him. Top it off with an impudently pretty face and the lusty appetite for sex that was typical of a thirty-year-old woman, and you had yourself quite a broad. He wanted to have this one again--lots of times--and he therefore paid her a compliment designed to both please her and fascinate her. "Baby, you're the best piece of tail I've had in over five years."
"While you were in prison?" she asked, and his eyebrows went up.
"How'd you know about that?"
"I have access to the personnel records."
"And it don't make any difference to you?"
"No--especially not since you were a counterfeiter, the elite of the inmates, the high society of the cons. I suppose that gave you certain privileges in prison. I mean, you didn't go entirely without sex."
He looked at her with new respect. "How does a broad like you know what goes on in the joint?"
"I've been around," she said, and deliberately turned her back on him to bend over and reach her bra, presenting him with what she knew was a grand view of her black-clad bottom.
He drank it in. His prick further stiffened in his hand at the sight of those heavy ovals of flesh, straining to get free of the flimsy film of black satin. Her skin was very white against the black, and up between her legs where the flesh was warmer and softer, its tone grew subtly darker. He licked his lips and asked, "Were you a stripper? Or a hooker?"
Facing him again, she laughed and said, "Let's say there were times I didn't give it away. I'm not ashamed of anything I did, or of anything I do. Are you?" she asked, with a pointed look at his cock. It was amazingly reinvigorated, and the sight of it, stiff and strong, reminded her of the first attraction she'd had for him even before she'd seen
him.
"I thought you were beat," he said.
"Between my boy friend and you, I've had enough here for today," she said, sliding pale fingers over the slick bulge of her crotch. "But not here," she said, and turned to pat her ass. "Know what I mean? Being a con, you should."
He grinned and said, "I sure as hell do. I like fucking ass almost as much as I like fucking cunt. And ever since I started working here, it's been on my mind."
"I don't blame you," she said, drawing her panties off again. "Not with Laura Dandridge showing hers off every day."
"You know her?"
"I've seen her. Are you making any headway with her?"
"I'm making it with you, baby. Bring it over here," he said, licking his lips with exaggerated gusto. "Bring it over here and let me warm it up before I slip you the meat."
"You know," she said, "I could get to like you."
Chapter 2
Laura came awake slowly. Her hand was clamped between her legs and her nightgown was twisted around up under her armpits. The bedclothes were equally tangled, as were her first waking thoughts, drugged with sleep.
She'd been running all night, churning her legs endlessly through the thickly impeding sheets. She'd been running away from some unknown horror, stark naked, with unseen eyes looking at her so that she'd had to try to cover her private parts with her hands as she ran. This and the awkward bouncing of her breasts, grown immensely large, had further slowed her in her flight. The thing behind her had been about to get her. The obscenities swelling from the throats of her spectators had told her that. She'd been unable to scream, though she'd tried. She'd surrendered the last vestige of her modesty in favor of pumping her arms up and down to run faster. Still it was gaining on her. Then, open-mouthed and unprotected, she'd come face to face with a black-masked highwayman on a huge black stallion, bearing down on her to pin her to the ground.
The alarm clock had saved her, but the dream still was so real that she wanted to scream, the penises sticking out at her, so huge and black and ugly. She sat up in bed and covered her face with her hands, hiding her quaking breasts in the crooks of her arms. In just a few moments she was all right again, and she pulled down her nightie and swung her legs off the bed. Her feet struck the chemistry book, torn and mutilated in her nightmare. It was from the company library, and she'd have to replace it. She prepared for work as eagerly as she had on her first day at Consolidated.
* * * *
Laura could feel the color rising to her cheeks as she said, "Do I have to tell you exactly what I saw him doing?"
"Yes," Markham said. "I can't reprimand an employee without specific grounds."
"But it was moral turpitude, and it says in the union contract that's grounds for discharge," she argued.
Chuck chimed in, and not on her side. "Laura, you'll have to tell us exactly what you saw. Was he doing something by himself in the pilot plant?"
How could one verbally describe the raw, animal coupling she'd had to witness, the heaving, sweating bodies, those expressions of carnal lust? But she did it. She said, "He was having sexual intercourse. With a woman. In the pilot plant."
"The horny devil," Chuck said with a grin, and Laura's face, already red and hot, grew more feverish still.
"That is fairly serious, Chuck," Markham said. "Even though it was after working hours."
"Fairly serious?" Laura spluttered. "Wh-why, if I'd had the power, I would have fired him then and there. Here, too!'~ -
"You don't know the girl?"
"No," ~he sullenly replied. "She's probably in the steno pool, though. And probably still on her probationary period, so it should be easy to fire both of them."
"I'll go and have a talk with Perry," said Markham, and rose from his desk.
"Do you want me to phone Personnel?" she asked.
"Not till I get back."
He left, and Chuck turned Laura to face him. There was still the trace of a grin on his face as he said, "That must have been quite a shock for you, seeing them like that."
"It was the most awful thing I ever saw! They were... they were... doing it, right there on company premises!"
"Honey, there's probably quite a bit of fooling around that goes on here every day. Look at us," he said. "It's just a matter of degree."
She started to protest, to tell him that their love could in no way be compared to the brutal spectacle she'd seen, but he cut off her words with a kiss. He'd kissed her a few times at the office before, but never right there where anyone could walk in and see them together, and never with such passion. The others had been quick--fond little pecks--but now he had her a prisoner in his arms, hugging the breath out of her and mashing his mouth very forcefully on hers. It was fully as passionate as when he was kissing her goodnight at her door, and she knew he was doing it to prove his point. It was having more than just that effect on her, though.
It was making her undulate her body closer to his, feeling the warm, soft bulge in his pants as she gripped his white shirt in both fists. It was making her loins feel wonderfully full and warm, and her vagina tickly and humid, and her nipples swollen and hard. His tongue pushed at her lips, and even that felt good for a moment, until she vividly pictured the tongues of the ex-convict and his whore lasciviously intertwined, and that made the kiss almost as dirty as what she'd witnessed, and Laura broke away from it.
"What a thing to do! Are you trying to get us fired too?"
His grin was foolish now, as foolish as young Stanley's, as he shrugged and said, "The way you were starting to loosen up, it might be worth it."
"I'll loosen up when we get married," she said, stamping off to her desk. "If we get married."
For a moment it looked like he'd follow after her, and for that moment she felt almost as afraid as she had when she'd thought Coleman was coming after her the day before. But then he sighed and went to his desk and busied himself with his books.
Markham was back in half an hour, and from the expression on his face, Laura knew that he'd at last seen the seriousness of the matter. He looked grimly resigned to what would be an unpleasant task, and Laura wished she could do his firing for him. He came and sat on the edge of her desk, something he rarely did, and smiled sadly as he spoke.
"I've given Perry a verbal reprimand, and that, will end the matter, Laura."
She was too stunned to speak. She could only stare at him, knowing she hadn't heard him right. He went right on.
"He sees the error of his ways, and it won't happen again--at least not on company premises. It was unfortunate that it happened; and unfortunate that you saw it. But now it's over and done with, and there's nothing more to be said about it. Not to anyone."
"But... but... it's moral turpitude! And that's... grounds for being discharged. It says so-"
"I know what the contract says, Laura," he gently interrupted. "But do you know who Perry was with?"
"Well, no. But I know she should be fired too!"
"That was Helen Peterson. Have you heard the name?"
It was unbelievable. It couldn't be. "Mr. McCoy's secretary?" she asked weakly. Mr. McCoy was a vice president!
"The same. And if we fire Coleman, we fire her, too. Through the union or through his parole officer, he'd see to that."
"But we've got to do something! We can't just let them get away with it!"
"Helen Peterson's been getting away with it for some time, as I've been led to believe. She's usually more discreet, but I have heard stories. We'll have to drop it, Laura."
"We can't!" she exclaimed, confused and terribly disappointed in her boss. "Company policy states..."
"I know what it states!" he declared, with such force she flinched back in her chair. "But I'm stating that the subject is closed! Drop it, Laura. Forget it."
They glared at each other until Chuck intervened. "Look, it's not such a big thing. It didn't cause any harm. It was after working hours. It goes on all the time. And the main thing is we've got to get along with each other in this department. Laura, forget it. I'll take you out to a big steak dinner tonight, and that'll make you forget it."
It was useless to argue with them. She didn't have enough power. She gave in and said she'd forget all about it, and she returned to her work with a vigor fueled by impotent rage. Each time she saw one piece of data from the pilot plant, each time she chanced to see it through the window, she was starkly brought back to seeing them naked, fucking each other, and it made the whole organization seem dirty and rotten.
Shortly after four, Chuck said he was going to get the charts from the pilot plant, and Laura got up from her desk and said, "That's my job. I'll do it."
"Well, I thought maybe..."
"Don't," she said. "We've all got to get along here."
Heads turned in her direction as Laura drove to the pilot plant, for it was unusual to see her pretty face set in such harsh lines. One of the maintenance men whistled at her as she drove past him, and she resolved to fire people like that, too, when she worked her way into becoming the first female vice president in Consolidated's history. Her anger lasted until she was out of the car and walking toward the little concrete building, and then the sight of the window and the remembrance of what she'd seen through it diluted her rage with the soft, sinking fear of the brute inside.
Smiling at her from behind his battered desk, Perry Coleman looked more like a snake than a brute. His teeth were so white and his lips were so thin. His nose was like a hawk's, though, and his eyes were as dark as his hair. Except for his shoulders, his body didn't fill Out the blue coveralls he wore. It was the same body that had been joined to that of a woman, right here in this place, not twenty-four hours before. Those hands clasped behind his neck had mauled feminine flesh, and those lips had kissed it and sucked on it and made it all hot and feverish and as damp as Laura's loins felt. And, the bastard, he was grinning at her, knowing he'd defeated her and making it all the more difficult for her to go through with the charade of normalcy.
"Where are the charts and data?" she asked coolly.
"Right there on my desk," he said. "Pick them up.
She'd been too angry to notice them. Briskly, she took them in her hand and turned on her heel; and when she was but three steps from his desk, he sent a hot chill up her spine with his taunting, dirty words.
"Sure like to pick you up in town some night. Sure like to get my hands on that pretty ass of yours, honey. Or some afternoon. You could stand lookout at the window for sneaky little snoopers while I slip it to you doggy style."
She turned on him, ready to blast him into the floor with a well-placed verbal salvo, but the sight of him grinning at her, licking his lips with the tongue he'd used on the company whore, was just too much for her. She spun on her heel and left slamming the door behind her, and the sound of his laughter could be heard following her, just as those other words had followed her.
Chapter 3
A part of the terms of Perry Coleman's parole was that he must stay out of bars, but his probation officer was an understanding man and he condoned Perry's regular visits to the Happy Hour. It was an ordinary enough saloon, catering to the working man. He'd been in bars just like it throughout the country before he'd been busted. They served only beer, as far as the law knew, but the hard stuff was available if you wanted it. There were two coin-operated pool tables on which the patrons played for up to a dollar on Thursday nights, up to fifty on Fridays, paydays. They cashed Consolidated paychecks at the Happy Hour, and it was a big temptation for Perry to keep out of the big money pool games on the big money nights, for he knew he could beat the wage earners on the tables, but he had to keep his nose clean. He didn't want to go back to jail, and he almost liked his job, so the pleasure of fleecing a few drunken laborers out of their hard-earned cash just wasn't enough of a temptation to yield to. So he went to the Happy Hour every night after work, and during the time it took him to drink four beers, he gabbed with the other Consolidated employees and reflected on how much better off he was here instead of in jail, and occasionally he picked up one of the broads who ventured in. On that Thursday night, because he was broke, his beers were bought on credit, and he didn't want to use his credit to buy the drinks necessary to pick up a chick, even though he was terribly horny.
* * * *
Perry Coleman wanted to sit and savor his close escape, or more correctly, the victory he'd won over the establishment. And he wanted to think about how he could make that victory even sweeter. Sure, it had been a gas putting tight-ass Laura Dandridge on when she was leaving the pilot plant, but how much better it would be to rub his victory in, to have her hustling her luscious little body out to the pilot plant each day for a fast fuck? He'd always wanted to try her. The pent-up sexual energies inside him needed a lot of release, and he'd have liked to take it out on her. There had to be a way, and it wasn't with the direct approach he'd used that day. Words wouldn't seduce her, but other things would.
He should have been content with Helen, and in any other circumstances he would have been. Ace out her boy friend, whoever he was, move in on her, and live it up for a while. Still he was horny for Laura, the sneak, the hard-up virgin. That was the way with Perry, the more ass he got, the more he wanted. Far from satisfying him, Helen had only turned him on more, now that it was over. But that was to be expected, for he was way behind in the cunt department after having spent five years behind bars. So he'd forget about Laura for tonight and use what he'd learned about Helen to get it on with her again that night. He had her address from the phone book, and that should be enough. He. finished his fourth beer and left the Happy Hour.
Helen's address was a new, expensive apartment house, one of the best in Sulfur City. Still in his work coveralls, he had no business being there, but Perry used his confidence and his coveralls to stroll past the swimming pool like a workman called in to fix an air-conditioning unit. He had an erection when he rang her bell.
"Who is it?" Unmistakably, it was her voice.
"Perry Coleman. From work. Lemme in."
There was a pause and she said, "I can't now."
"Sure you can," he insisted. "I got something to tell you. It's important. About work. Lemme in."
"What about work? Did you tell somebody what we did?"
"Lemme in."
She did. She had on a flowered robe, short, and beltless and he could see a lot of her body through it, a body he'd known, all hot and giving, a body he wanted more of, right away. Though she was backing off and holding out her palms at him, he tried to reach her, until the big blond kid in the towel appeared from her balcony.
"Who's this guy?" he asked.
"Perry Coleman. The guy I got it on with at work yesterday. Perry. this is Bobby Barker. He works in Transportation."
Surveying the frowning young giant, Perry said, "He's a fork lift operator. I've seen him. You really go for the crumbs, don't you, Helen?"
The big guy started forward, but Helen ably stopped him by plastering her body against his side, not caring now that her robe fell open. Smiling, she said, "You've got no complaints, Perry. I balled you and maybe I'll ball you again. But that's for work. Bobby's for here."
"Yeah, so split," said the kid.
He might have been a kid, and Perry might be tough and dirty, but still Perry doubted if he could take him, not even with Helen as the prize. So he turned on the charm and told her about the close call they'd had, all the while watching with barely concealed envy as Bobby flaunted his current possession of the big, lusty redhead.
The bastard, he stripped her robe off her and felt up her luscious charms while Perry looked on and talked and Helen turned on and listened. The oaf ran his callused hands over her ripe body and felt the tits that Perry hungered for and the ass that he'd felt--all too briefly--and used his fingers in the hair that didn't match that on her beautiful head. She reacted well, as Perry wished she were reacting to him. Smiling at his account of his meeting with Markham and subsequently with Laura, Helen snuggled closet to her youthful lover, first stroking his loins through the towel, then dropping it to the floor to fondle him in the flesh.
His prick was bigger than Perry's but surely it wasn't as hard, and Perry thought again about taking him on. But, no. It wouldn't be worth it. He. had only a fifty-fifty chance against him, and those odds weren't right. Cool it. Negotiate it. Work something out. That was the way to go.
"So that's it," he said. "We got caught, but thanks to some fast talking on my part, it don't matter. We can't get it on at work any more, but there's other places besides that. Here, for instance, or at my place."
Bobby answered. He said, "Screw off. This is my woman."
"Get this straight, boy," she said, facing him, dropping his cock, a nice one, but not as experienced as Perry's. "I'm not anybody's woman but mine. If I want to ball someone, I'll ball them. It so happens I don't want to ball Perry now. And he doesn't want to ball me, no matter what he says. He's after Laura Dandridge--or at least I think he is--so settle down, Bobby, and don't get possessive, for Christsake. And go get me a drink."
He glowered and hulked off, and Perry came close enough to whisper, "Baby, it's you I want. Get rid of him. Let's make it."
She smiled and shook her head. She said, "Not now. It would bug him--it would shatter his ego. Bring a chick by that he could take on, and it would be a different matter. But he couldn't take seconds after your firsts, or thirds after your seconds. Bring a chick by and then we'll really get it on."
Perry hung around and had a drink with them. He watched them make out while he sipped it, and he burned inside. Naked as hell, the two of them leisurely cavorted on the couch while Perry's cock oozed in a most frustrating way. He watched them fondle each other all over. He watched while the young blond boob went down on the sexy redhead and noisily lapped the cunt he yearned for. He stuck around, feigning indifference, until she started sucking the kid's cock, and then it became too much for him and he had to leave.
He went home to the little shack he rented on the edge of town, in sight of the plant, and brooded about it all over three more cans of beer. It was all that Laura's fault, and he'd get her...he'd get her, sure enough. He took out his prick and began slowly jacking off as he thought about the things he'd do to Laura if she were with him then.
* * * *
The steak dinner had been very good, and the coffee and conversation after it had been so enjoyable it had stretched on for over an hour before Chuck Davids called for the check. Laura looked thoroughly relaxed and utterly beautiful sitting across the candle-lit table from him. Her hair was down, her eyes shining with love for him, and he was strongly tempted to force an answer from her regarding his weeks-old proposal of marriage. He held back, for he was a patient man in some things, and he wanted her to be entirely sure about the decision, with a minimum of influence from him.
She sat close beside him on the drive to her apartment, her fragrant warmth being separated from him only by the distance of their clasped hands on the car seat. They'd talked all through dinner, then fell silent while Chuck drove, and it wasn't until they were at her door that he spoke.
"Feel like having a visitor for a while?" he asked, holding her by the arms, and brushing his lips over her forehead.
"It's a working day tomorrow, Chuck."
"You'll make it to work on time. You haven't been late yet," he said, placing small, warm kisses around the corners of her mouth, and marveling at the firmness of her warm body.
"And what time does your plane leave?"
"Seven," he said, and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips were sweet, and he yearned so to taste them further, but, recalling her reaction to a French kiss that afternoon, he refrained. He wanted to feel every bit of that incredibly sculpted body in his arms, but remembering the many times he'd been rebuffed, he contented himself with feeling her shoulders and the small of her back and the upper swells of that utterly fantastic fanny of hers. He wanted to pull her closer to him in order to feel all her charms with his body, but the hard-on that had been bothering him for much of the night was back again, stronger than ever, and it wouldn't do to stab her in the belly with that.
"Really, you'd better go," she murmured when the long kiss ended.
Trying to keep from panting, he said, "Yeh. I really should."
"G'night. Have a good trip."
"G'night. Think of me. I'll write."
"So will I. Every day."
He started to turn away, then impulsively grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her again. It was very fast, but he tasted her lips with his tongue and felt her body with his, and he hurried down the steps two at a time, to keep from going back for more.
* * * *
Laura remained standing on the landing for several seconds after the door banged shut downstairs. She'd often been very much aroused by Chuck's kisses, but never like this. He'd done it on purpose, and she resented it. He'd taken her by surprise, just when she'd been relaxing her self-control in anticipation of his leaving, and it wasn't fair. His lips still burned on hers and she could feel exactly where his tongue had touched her. Her nipples were still hard as velvet-covered marbles from where they'd pressed against his chest, and inside her abdomen she could feel a warm, wet hollow that corresponded exactly to the size of the long organ he'd pressed against her belly. It was so long. How could she ever get used to that?
She was still breathing hard as she pulled off her suffocating clothes. She felt hot and sweaty and knew she should take a shower before bed, but didn't have the energy for that. She stood naked before the mirror and measured with her hands on her tummy just how far Chuck's penis would go if she married him. The way she felt that night, he wouldn't even have to marry her. If she had let him into her apartment, she'd have let him into her bed that night, and then how sweet it would be to feel his warmth cuddling hers all night long, until he had to rise and fly off on business next morning. That was lovely to think about, but impossible to do, for practicalities existed, not the least of which was worrying about getting pregnant. They were young; they had time before them, and were sensible enough to recognize the practicalities of being in love.
One of the impracticalities of being in love was that of getting sexed up all the time. Now Laura was so aroused that her body was twitching, and between that and the coffee she'd drunk, she knew there was no way she could hope for sleep. She ignored the pretense of vaginal exercise and squatted in front of the mirror to masturbate.
It felt so good to rub her fingers up and down her drenched slit and in and out her oozing vagina, and it looked so good to see herself getting hotter by the moment. Her fanny was almost touching the floor and her nipples were rubbing against her knees as she rocked back and forth on her feet, in rhythm with her fingers working in her crotch. Yes, she could take Chuck's penis. If he was there then, she'd just roll over on her back and he'd slip it right in, with scarcely a ripple of pain. She could take any man, as long as he was good and gentle with her, and maybe even some that were not.
A groan escaped her as she thought of Perry. His evil face swam before her eyes as she thought about taking him, and she fell back on her ass and rubbed her burning clitoris as hard as she could. "Rrrrgghh!" Another wave of unbelievably intense pleasure washed over her and she fell back on her back to writhe upward against her two hands, one parting her labia widely, the other probing and scratching and rubbing within her lovely hot cunt. Chuck wanted that cunt, and she knew exactly why. Perry wanted it too, and though she didn't want to think about him then, she found she couldn't help it as wave after wonderful wave of pure pleasure was hers, and she muttered, "Fuck me! Want to be fucked. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Chapter 4
On Friday Laura worked at a fast, steady pace all day, wanting to clear her desk before leaving on her vacation, even though that was a hopeless task. By four o'clock, she'd accomplished a great deal. She was just about to stretch the kink out of her neck and go to the pilot plant for the day's data sheets when Perry Coleman entered the office.
The charts were in his hands and he was smiling so shyly that he looked like a different man. "I know you've been hitting it pretty hard today, Miss Dandridge, so I thought I'd save you the trip out there."
"Thank you, Perry," she said, surprised and very pleased that, without warning, their relationship had suddenly fallen into the proper place. She was still wary of him, but willing to give him a chance to start again with her. Even if his present demeanor was a facade, it was far better than his attitude in the past, that past which she was willing to forgive and forget.
But he wouldn't forget it. He said, "Say, I'm just real sorry about getting wise with you yesterday. I didn't mean it and I shouldn't have said it."
"It's all right, Perry. You're forgiven."
"I was just sore, and I was afraid of losing my job."
"I understand. Jobs aren't that easy to get now."
"Especially for a guy like me," he said with a rueful grin. "And that other thing, with that woman, you know that'll never happen again."
"I'm sure," she said, and picked up her glasses and put them on, feeling her cheeks warming. "That was. . . very bad."
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he said,' "It sure was. And I sure am sorry. Right now, this is worth more to me than just about any woman," he said, and picked up his paycheck from her desk. "I've got to save some money and make something of myself before I start thinking about women again. It was a woman who got me in trouble before."
"It was?" she asked, fascinated, for she'd never heard about any of the details of his crime. "What was she like?"
"To tell you the honest truth, she looked sort of like you. But she was a lot different, of course. For one thing, she was a stripper."
"And she looked like me?" It was embarrassing, and also a little titillating. "Where did you know her?"
"Everywhere. I followed Patsy all over the country. I'd have done anything for her. As it turned out, I did five years for her, but that's another story. You cashing your check today?"
"No, I wait till Monday and go into town on my lunch hour.
"You don't cash it at the Happy Hour? They only charge you a buck."
"No. I've never been there." She'd heard of it, that watering place for the blue-collar workers as a rule, and young executives and engineers out for an occasional lark. "My father used to go there once in a while."
"But you've never seen it? You ought to, really." Looking at his check as he carefully folded it, he said, "You wouldn't get in any trouble there. It's really a nice place. If you wanted. . . well..."
"Yes?" Was he going to invite her there? Incredible.
"Well, I was thinking. If you wanted to cash your paycheck, if you wanted to sort of see how the other half lives, well, I'm going down there pretty quick and I'd see that all the boys treated you with respect. If you wanted to..."
Thank goodness it wasn't a direct invitation, for she'd feel bad about having to refuse it now that he was trying to be so nice. She smiled and said, "I'll think about dropping by. But there are a few things I have to finish up here first."
"I'll hang around there for an hour. I'll keep an eye out for you if you decide to drop by, Miss Dandridge."
She breathed a sigh of relief when he left. It was so nice to be called Miss Dandridge instead of the usual Laura. And it was nice to know that she'd handled the situation properly and had made him see the error of his ways. It gave her more confidence in her future as an executive. She thought about it some more as she worked, recalling the success her father had enjoyed in handling men. It was because he'd made it a point to know their personalities and their personal problems, their family life and the way they thought. And it wouldn't be so bad at the Happy Hour. Even without Coleman's dubious protection, none of the beer-drinking men would dare accost a secretary. If she went right away, before they all got roaring drunk, she could have a good look at the place, perhaps hear more of Perry Coleman's probably fictitious story, and cash her paycheck too.
Putting on her coat, she felt as if she was going on an interesting but dangerous tour of a ghetto. Outside, a soft summer rain was falling and as she drove through it she knew she wouldn't turn back. Seeing all the cars haphazardly parked around the rambling frame roadhouse, however, gave her pause. She might have changed her mind and driven right on if she hadn't seen Perry's car parked under the big locust tree, but then she parked her VW close to the road and wound her way through the cars, closer to the beckoning sounds of music and laughter.
The place was smoke-filled and raucous, and thick with people and smells. But it was exciting. She could feel as well as hear the beat of the juke box music as she stood in the doorway, looking over the heads of the rollicking workers, done with another week of toil. Miniskirted waitresses wended their way through the packed tables, carrying trays of beer, and three bartenders were being kept busy filling glasses and pitchers with the foamy brew. Laura was a bit taken aback by the vibrancy of the whole scene, and it startled her when Perry spoke close to her ear.
"I've got us a table over here," he said.
No one tried to grab her when she passed, but a lot of heads turned, and she was relieved to be able to sit down in a corner, all but out of sight.
He grinned broadly at her, looking younger than he usually did, and better too in jeans and sport shirt instead of his usual coveralls. "I'm sure glad you could drop in, Miss Dandridge. Would you like a beer? They've got it in bottles."
If anything, she'd planned to have a coke, but she was charmed by his offering her a bottled beer, as if it was the champagne of the Happy Hour. He beamed when she accepted, and he called the waitress over. She was pretty in a common sort of way, and of course, she knew Perry Coleman.
He said to her, very proudly, "Annie, this is one of my bosses, Miss Dandridge."
Laura smiled her best and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Annie. But I'm not his boss. I'm just a secretary."
"She came down to cash her check. Would you do it for her, Annie? And bring us a couple of beers. Draft for me, bottled for Miss Dandridge. . . the best."
The place was fascinating and so was his story. It was hard to concentrate on both at once, but as she sipped her beer, she got the general picture of both. The men there were all spending an appreciable amount of their week's pay, money which they needed to keep their households going. But it was well spent, for they all needed a chance to blow off some steam. Everyone did, and at times that included her. And Perry had done a terrible thing in counterfeiting that money, but he'd done it in the name of misdirected love and even people like Perry Coleman were susceptible to love. Just as she was.
She thought she could feel her second bottle of beer, and that was strange, for she'd been able to drink two or three beers with her father without having any ill effects. Listening to his story, looking around, she decided she was feeling more of the excitement of her surroundings than she was of the small amount of alcohol she'd had. She was glad she'd come. It was good to feel this kind of excitement now and then, and good to see how other people lived. And when he asked her about herself, she found he was a very good listener and she enjoyed telling about herself and her ambitions as she drank her third beer.
That third beer definitely got to her. She felt as if she might be ill, and the noisy room seemed to be closing in on her. Perry was an old hand at this sort of thing though, and he knew just what to do. He took her outside and walked her around the parking lot once, ignoring her apologies and assuring her that she was all right, and supporting her by the arm in a very gentlemanly manner. The rain had let up and the night air felt good, and it felt very good to sit down in his car.
"Where're you taking me?" she asked, when he started off.
"Home."
"That's good," she said, and settled down more comfortably. "I need to sleep. Drank too much beer. Have you got my purse?"
"Baby, I've got everything," he said, and she chuckled at his calling her that. She slept on the way to her apartment.
A dog's barking woke her up, and she peered groggily through the windshield to see a small house set off by itself on the edge of a cornfield. She remembered having seen it as a child, but she couldn't remember where it was and she knew it was far from her apartment.
"Where'd you take me?" she asked, as he got out.
He came around and opened her door, took her by the arm and pulled her out of the car. "Come on inside before it starts raining again."
"I've gotta go home," she protested, as he pulled her along. He was almost rough with her now, not at all like when he'd guided her around through all those cars, and she lost a shoe in the soft ground.
He wouldn't go back for it. He said he'd get it later, when she was comfortable inside, and she forgot about it when the big black dog appeared to bark with terrifying loudness at her side. It was almost a relief to get inside the dark little house, and then she was being kissed with a passionate ferocity that she'd never known existed before in a man.
It had to be Chuck kissing her, but it wasn't at all like him to hold her so tightly that she couldn't breathe, or to mash his mouth on hers so very hard and stab his tongue into her. She struggled to be free of him but that was no use at all, and then she struggled harder still when she felt his hands on her behind. They were digging in there, not really hurting her, but intolerably uncomfortable there, and she wrenched her mouth from his and told him to stop, to cut it out.
Immediately she was grabbed by the hair and forced into another hot, tonguing kiss, and even though her scalp hurt she now yielded to the good, powerful feelings sweeping over her. She slung her arms about his neck and dug into his mouth with her tongue, feeling the heat of him clear down to her toes and wanting him to feel the same thing. She squirmed her breasts against his chest because they itched in such a wonderful way, and when he had both hands on her bottom again she wanted to moan with the bliss she felt at being able to thrust her passion-engorged loins against his hardness. She felt him ruck her skirt up in the back and she didn't care. His clutching hands felt even better on her panty-clad bottom, and she went up on her toes as she kissed him harder, secure in his arms from the dizziness that assailed her.
She was allowed to breathe in a great, shuddering breath as he panted heavily at her ear. "You like this, Miss Tightass? You want to fuck?"
"Don't say that," she mumbled against the warmth of his pulsing throat. "Don't say anything."
"You got a great ass, baby. You were made for fucking."
His hands were on her bare flesh now. He had one of his hands inside her panties to squeeze and knead her bare buttocks and make the nylon crotchband ride up in her seething, wet slit. Her blouse was out of the waistband of her skirt and he was using his other hand to roughly massage her breast. She wanted him to kiss her again, not only to add to the wonderful sensuality she was feeling but also to quiet his chuckling and the hot, dirty words he was saying in her ear. And when he did kiss her, she plastered herself against his strong body and licked and lapped and sucked at his tongue. She pushed herself against his moving hands and squirmed against his body and let the good feelings run rampant in her.
"Let's see what's goin' on," he said, and she was pushed back to lean against a wall.
The lights blinded her and she covered her eyes, and now his laugh was harsh, as were his words. "Well, look at her now. Miss Tightass with her tits showing and her skirt all twisted up and her stockings run. And all ready for more. Let's see how you look with your hair down."
She realized it was Coleman then, and that gave her the strength to fight back as he came at her again. But he was so strong and she was so vulnerable. She couldn't stop him from yanking the barrettes out of her hair and at the same time cover her breasts, which had somehow gotten free of her brassiere. And when her hair was down, she couldn't keep both his hands from pinching and poking her exposed flesh. He kept her pinned to the wall with his body as he ripped and pulled and tugged at her blouse and bra, ignoring her pleas, laughing at her screams. He kissed her again and she wasn't even able to bite him. He had his hand on her bare breast then, molding it to whatever shape he wanted. She knew she was being raped, and it terrified her. But there in his arms she felt so helpless to resist that her temptation was very great to simply go along with it and have it over with as quickly as possible.
Still she couldn't do that. She had to ignore the shamefully wonderful feelings sweeping through her and fight back, even though her chance of escape was absurd. She had to push and claw and kick at him, even though it meant getting into ever closer contact with his hard, hot, panting body.
At first she thought it was his prick that was touching her vulva, but then she almost wilted with relief when she realized it was his fingers there, working back and forth over her slick, wet clitoris even though her legs were clamped tightly together over it. For a moment it felt better by far than her own hand did, better by far than anything she'd ever known in her life, but then it was the foul hand of a rapist there and she renewed her struggles to escape.
"Stop it! Perry, stop it! I'll have you arrested!"
He slapped her across the face, banging her head back against the wall so hard that she almost blacked out. She managed to keep on her feet, and freed of the dreadful attack for a moment, she plucked feebly at her torn clothing while she tried to clear her head.
The sight of him undressing did it. For a few moments she stood there paralyzed, not really believing he was actually taking off all his clothes. But then she saw his penis, as thick as she'd remembered it but so very long. It was twice as large as the gnawing cavity in her belly and it was upward-curving, a stout shaft capped with a huge knob, and fitted with a single eye that stared accusingly at her. In a flash she was perfectly sober and able to slip away from his groping hand and get out the front door.
She kicked off her remaining shoe dashing across his porch and then was off at a ragged sprint through the darkness. She didn't try to cover herself as she ran. She ardently hoped it was her nightmare, but the rain in her face and the dog barking and, worst of all, the fast footsteps behind her, told her it was all too real. He caught up with her before she'd gone twenty feet.
She was driven down in the mud under his heavy body, and it stunned her. She could hardly fight at all as her panties were torn from her body and she was rolled over, her slip and skirt up around her waist, her breasts defenseless. He was wedging her legs open with his knee, and though she knew this was the time to kick him in the testicles, she couldn't do it for he wouldn't let her. He was incredibly naked, and she could feel his penis, hot on her leg.
"Get away, Czar!" he shouted, and at least the deafening barking stopped. She screamed, but she knew no one heard.
It was better to fight, and she pounded at him with her fists and twisted frantically under him, but he just laughed and worked his penis closer to where lie was rubbing his fingers. Right in her cunt he was doing it, and even through the pain and fear and confusion, it felt good.
"I'm a virgin," she panted. "Please don't."
"You won't be for long," he said, and got both his legs between hers.
Her mother had once told her that if it ever got that far, she should cease resistance to rape and thus spare herself unnecessary injury. She had to fight on, though, when she felt his penis, unmistakable because of its size, pressing against her weakest, softest flesh. She still didn't think it could be happening to her, and now it was the sharp pain that accompanied his grunting surge at her that brought her back.
"Goddamn, you're tight," he rasped, and shoved even more of himself into her.
It didn't hurt as before, when he'd ruptured her hymen, but it was terribly uncomfortable. She tried to open herself wider for the ghastly wedge going into her and she panted, "Do it. Get it over with. But don't make me pregnant."
"Don't worry about that," he said, drawing back, giving her blessed relief. "Don't worry about a thing."
She found she could relax and go with it. His second insertion, deeper than before, could be stood without feeling sick and paralyzed. The rain was washing the mud off her face and his body was keeping her warm, and she was starting to think she'd survive it. The worst was over and he was right in that it wouldn't do her any good to worry.
"You like that, baby? You startin' to get with 'it?" he asked, and slowly slid himself out and in again.
"I hate it. I hate you."
"I bet I'm going too slow for you," he said, and assailed her with his penis, pumping it in and out with strokes that should have destroyed the insides of her body. But she could even stand that, once she opened herself wider and got her hips cocked up at the right angle for him. She could stand anything. She wished, though, that she was drunk again, as she had, been in the house, when the good feelings had been all over her and she hadn't cared what was happening to her. She closed her eyes and thought about being drunk, and she was drunk then.
"Don't pass out on me, baby. Keep that ass moving."
His clutching fingers made her move it, and that was better still. It did feel good to fuck, even with a huge prick like that in her, even though she was bleeding and lying in the mud. She squirmed and humped back at him, let him kiss her and feel her breasts to further add to her drunken, wanton pleasure. She'd see him arrested, she'd see him executed, but that was later; for now she'd get all she could of the marvelous feelings of being fulfilled as a woman.
"Come, baby. Come. You can't help yourself," he urged her, panting at her ear and completely filling her cunt with exactly what it needed.
"Can't help it," she moaned. "Can't stop it."
She was on the way to the biggest orgasm by far that she'd ever known. It was mounting to a crescendo, driven inexorably on by his slipping, sliding prick, and she was clutching at his back and trying to kiss him in a desperate need to feel all she could of it, every bit, and then he pulled it out.
"No! More! Do it now!" she cried.
"Oh, you'll get more," he said, and then she was being rolled face down in the mud.
Spitting at it, trying to push herself up, she felt him mounting her from behind. She flattened herself again to escape it, but there was no escape. The hands parting her buttocks were too strong and the penis pushing at her rear was too wet and slick. She tried with all her might to get drunk again and she'd almost succeeded when the sharp pain came. But soon the pain receded, the friction in her anus became tolerable--then it became good.
She grinned and clutched the wet earth, loving the feeling of it against her bare breasts. She opened her legs wider and arched her back for him, and felt her orgasm returning, mounting with each of his hot breaths at her ear. His weight was good bearing down on her, making her helpless to resist, and his prick was good, going in and out of her body. She was good and drunk and being fucked half to death and loving every moment of it, and when thunder rolled in the distance she felt her orgasm burst in her and she panted, "Fuck me. Come with me."
"I am," he groaned, sounding as weak and helpless as she for a moment, and she let herself shiver and shudder in his surging embrace and share completely in the ecstasy she was knowing.
Chapter 5
"The last thing in the world you should do is run," Helen Peterson said. Seated beside Bobby Barker on the couch in her apartment, all she wore was a robe. It was almost the same color red as her hair, it was opened enough to reveal much of her bounteous breasts, and it was so short that all of her legs could be seen.
Perry scarcely noticed her. He was pacing the room, gnawing on his knuckles. There was mud on his face and his black hair was wet and lank, and he was very worried. "I can't stay," he said. "She said she'd turn me in, and I believe her. God, that was the stupidest thing I ever did in my life. Loan me fifty. I swear I'll pay it back as soon as I find a place to hide."
"That's not the way, but I will lend you the money if you insist on panicking. But calm down now. Tell me now it happened. Would a drink help?"
"That's what started it. I talked her into going down to the Happy Hour. I got the waitress there to load her beers up with vodka. She got gassed and I loaded her into the car and took her to my place. I wasn't drunk, but... man, once I grabbed her, I couldn't stop! She was up and down. One minute she'd be fighting me off and the next she'd be swinging right along with me. It was wild."
"Yes, but was it good?" she asked with a smile. He smiled back, something he thought he'd never be able to do again, and he said, "Yeh. It was damned good. Front and back, she was tight as a mouse's ear. If I wasn't on parole, it would have been worth it."
"And where did you leave her?"
"On my bed. Tied up. I figured I'd call the cops when I was a hundred miles away from here and they could get her loose."
"I'll just bet you figured on doing that."
"What the hell, she'd get loose by herself in time, and I was worried about me, not her."
"And you say it turned her on at times?"
He grinned again. "It sure did. She really got to moving that pretty little ass of hers once or twice, and at the end, she was asking for more." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Then she half-way passed out. I screwed her out in the yard, see. Taking her back in, she came to and said she'd kill me. She said she'd turn me in and watch while they executed me. And she fought all the time I was tying her up. Hell, I've got to run."
"And you might get away, but I doubt it. May I make a suggestion?"
"Helen, don't go getting yourself involved," said Bobby, but he was ignored.
"Tell me," said Perry. "I'll try anything... short of killing her, of course."
"Of course," Helen said with a small, mirthless smile. "I suggest you go back there and turn her on all the way. Tell her you love her and that you want to marry her. Make her believe it with your love-making. Force her to turn on to you all the way, whatever it takes. You've got all weekend to do it."
"All week, really," be said, rubbing his jaw, thinking hard. "She's just starting on her vacation, and the other two guys in the office will be out of town. Trouble is, she might have a date with someone and be missed."
"That's a chance you'll have to take, Perry."
"I might be able to swing it."
"They'll catch you if you run, and turning her on to sex would be more pleasant than killing her."
"Yeh," he said. "Yeah, it would be at that. Shit, it's worth a try. I can't get in any deeper than I already am."
"Perhaps no deeper, but more often," Helen said, and Bobby guffawed. "Let us know of your progress, Perry, but please, don't involve us in any way."
* * * *
In his haste he'd left the light on. The bare bulb glared above the bed, and Laura couldn't help but lift her head and look down at herself. That made her feel so ashamed. Spread-eagled on his foul bed, her blouse was wide open and her brassiere was only on her by one strap. Her skirt was twisted and torn, her panties gone, her stockings down around her knees. She was wet and cold and streaked with rain-washed mud. By arching her body upward she could see the smears of red between her legs, and that was comforting. It served as a reminder that she'd been forcefully taken, and that in turn helped to let her forget about those brief moments when his penis in her hand felt so very good.
But, no! It hadn't felt good, not even for one second! Sex only felt good with the one you loved, and she felt nothing but contempt for Perry Coleman. Driven by her anger, she started straining anew at the ropes that held her wrists and ankles, and as she did, she glared around at the unkempt little bedroom. There was dirty laundry on the floor and an array of junk on the dresser with its cracked mirror, and these were more mute evidence of the low sort of person he was. Every few minutes she'd stop in her struggles, take a deep breath, and scream. It only made her more dizzy. She felt that he'd drugged her, and hoped that could be proved and would make things go harder on him when he was brought to justice. She was making some headway on the rope around her left wrist when she heard his car come rattling into the yard.
Right away she knew he'd come back to do it again and then kill her, and she began to cry. She hated herself for doing it, but she couldn't stop. She thought about Chuck and how he would avenge her, and that helped. Then the door at the foot of the bed opened and there he was--and a great calm suddenly came over her. She didn't even try to close her legs, for she wanted him to see the blood and the shame he'd wrought.
He regarded her somberly for a few long seconds and left, and fury overwhelmed her and she screamed, "Let me loose! Come back here and let me loose!"
The bed creaked under her struggles until he came back, holding a towel in his hands. She knew he was going to strangle her with it as he approached the bed, but she had to ask. "What are you going to do with that?"
"Clean you up a little," he said, and sat down on the bed.
At first she tried to twist her head away when he began to wash her mud- and tear-streaked face, but then she submitted to it, sullen and grim-lipped. She became petrified when he drew a big clasp knife from his pocket, and she screamed and struggled when he approached her body with it.
"Hold still. I don't want to cut you. I just want these clothes off."
"No! Leave me alone! Get away from me!"
Phlegmatically, he sawed off the remnants of her once pristine garments, and she hated him almost as much for seeing her naked as she did for having raped her. She held still for a few moments when he started using the wet towel on her body, but had to twist and scream and thrash as he approached her loins with it. He held her down with his body across her belly as he wiped all around between her legs with the towel. She felt sick with shame.
He faced her again to ask her if she wanted some milk, and she took several seconds before answering. "I suppose it's drugged like the beer was."
"There was some vodka in the beer. The milk is okay. Do you want some?"
Her thirst overcame her pride, and she said yes. He held her head up so she could drink it, and even there his touch was revolting to her. But she did feel better with the milk in her stomach.
His hand was cold from the glass when he placed it gently on her abdomen, and she flinched from it. He looked her over, his dark eyes expressionless as he gazed at her naked and utterly defenseless body, and he said. "You know, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I want to brush out your hair."
She could smell his sweat as he bent over her and took out the one barrette that remained. When he went to the dresser to get a hair brush, she said, "I'd rather you killed me. You make me sick just looking at you."
"I can't get enough of looking at you," he said, and smiling, he tilted the dresser mirror so that she could see her reflection in it.
She looked away, but the image still burned in her brain. Her breasts flattened by her arms overhead posture, her belly hollowed out, her body looking so white and soft, and that tuft of hair that marked what he and every other man lusted for.
Using the brush, he said, "That was a pretty dumb thing I did today, talking you into coming to the Happy Hour. I should have left you alone. I knew I could never make it with you. I had to try, I guess, sooner or later. Being in love with a woman like you makes me do stupid things."
"Love! What do you know about love!"
He grinned a little sadly and said, "Even ex-convicts fall in love. Maybe it's worse with us than with straight guys, because we have so much time to think about it in--the joint--in jail," he added, when he saw she didn't comprehend.
"Well, you'll have a lot more time to think about it when they get you for this. And they will."
He sighed and nodded. "I know. That's why I came back."
She didn't at all like the way he was looking at her. Even more distinctly now, she could feel where he'd stabbed her with his great, thick, ugly penis. Keep him talking, that was the thing to do.
"Look, if you'll just let me go, I - won't p-prosecute you. I won't say a word to anyone about it."
"Even if II believed that, Laura, I wouldn't do it. Hell, I couldn't--not now that I've had this much of you. I'm like a little kid in a candy store who knows he's going to get hell and a stomachache both, but he has to go on swiping candy once he's tasted it."
"What are you going to do?" she said, trying to be unobtrusive about working at her bonds, trying to keep her head.
"I'm going to show you how much I love you, babe," he replied, and ran his hand down over her warm, smooth body.
Hard and hot as his hand was, it was as if a toad was crawling on her. She withstood it, for she'd put up with worse, even though she'd been drunk at the time. She couldn't help but squirm away, but she didn't start crying again and she was able to protest coherently.
"Perry, don't make it any worse for yourself. Honestly...honest to God, I won't report you if you stop now and let me g-go."
"I told you I can't stop now. And it won't be bad. I promise you that."
He was touching her bare breast and no man had ever done that before, and it was awful, terrible. And his face was almost as dreadful as his hand as he stared at her, slack-jawed and obsessed by his unnatural sex drive.
"It'll be terrible. It'll ruin me for life, Perry--and you too."
"I don't care about me. Laura, I'm willing to go back to prison and spend the rest of my life there in exchange for a little more time with you. If you don't like it, that'll be just too bad. You'll get over it, though. I won't."
When he tried to kiss her, she spit in his face. He merely wiped it off and used his lips and his hands on her breasts. There was little she could do about that but deride him.
"That feels awful. It's making me sick. Just stop it and let me go. If you really ever did feel any love
for me or for anyone, you wouldn't be doing this. Stop it!"
"Getting to you?" he asked, and resumed sliding his wetted lips over the corrugated flesh of her nipples and stroking the taut globes with his hands.
No, it wasn't pleasant at all. All his supposedly erotic ticklings produced in her was a creepy feeling. Scornfully, she said, "Your doing that shows how disgustingly childish you are. You need psychiatric help."
"I need you, doll," he said. He quit his dirty kissings to stand up beside the bed. "And I'm going to have all I can of you before they lock me up again."
He began to undress, and as he did so he realized there was at least one element of truth in what he'd told her. She was indeed the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life, and the fact that she was bound and helpless had nothing to do with that judgment. Without her glasses and with her
hair combed out, without her clothes and all opened out as she was, Laura looked like the embodiment of every sexual fantasy he'd had in prison, all rolled up into one.
"I'll pay you if you stop now," she said, eyes wide with fear, and pulling hard at her ropes. "I'll even help you get away. Why pick on me? There are so many other women."
"Because I love you," he said, and went around to the foot of the bed and climbed up between her widespread legs.
She closed her eyes and lay still. She'd have to go along with it, for there was no reasoning with him. It might not be as bad as the first time, for the sadistic sex fiend had already torn her hymen, but on the other hand it might be worse, for now her vulva felt dry while in her previous state of drunkenness it had been wet and lubricated. But no matter how much it hurt, she wouldn't move; she wouldn't feed his sadist's urge to see her suffer. But at his first contact with her vulva, her eyes flew open and her head cranked up so she could see the top of his head and his broad brown shoulders between her legs.
"What are you doing!"
"Eating the most beautiful cunt in the world," he replied, and resumed using his tongue there.
"Pervert," she said, and fell back.
It might be difficult to remain impassive to this. Laura knew that the practice of cunnilingus, degenerate though it was, represented the most luxurious form of love-making. She took a look in the mirror and saw there was nothing visually appealing about a man crouched subserviently between her legs, snuffling and lapping about in her soiled crotch. It did feel nice, but like most things about sex, what she'd heard and imagined were exaggerations. Actually, it didn't even feel as good as when she was masturbating. He didn't know the exact location of her most sensitive parts, and the pressure of his tongue wasn't hard enough.
She knew it wouldn't make her have an orgasm, and that was a great relief, for the thought of herself panting and squirming in ecstasy on that dirty bed was detestable to her. She was confident she'd be able to stand it unflinching, even when he sucked on her sensitive tissues with his lips and simultaneously tickled them with his tongue. She could stand anything for a little while, and even a sex maniac like him couldn't stand the smell and taste of her for very long.
To pass the time, to distract herself, she mentally dictated a letter of accusation against him. But when he got his hands under her and squeezed her buttocks and elbowed her legs farther apart so that he could probe with his tongue directly in her vagina, she could no longer concentrate on it.
"That's disgusting," she said. "Do you know that?"
He just shook his head and tongued her more deeply. It was incredible! He actually liked it! She couldn't really believe it, but if it was true, he might go on for much longer than she was ready to put up with. Perhaps if she peed in his face it would discourage him. But no, that was too bad to even think about doing. He'd give it up in a few more moments and rape her again. Until then, she'd just have to stand it. And, looking on the bright side, it was serving the purpose of getting her a little lubricated, the better to endure the torture that would follow.
Don't think about that, either. Relax and go with it, for she couldn't fight back. Her body was tired from her long, vain struggle with the ropes, and it felt luxuriously good to allow it to go limp. Her buttocks softened in his hands and the strain went out of her back, and even the flesh between her legs seemed to melt.
"That's it, baby," he said. "Relax and enjoy it."
"You're mistaken," she said, and forced a yawn. "I'm going to sleep."
"Pleasant dreams," he said, and drawing back her clitoral sheath with his thumbs, stabbed her most sensitive spot with his tongue.
Her gasp and the slight arching of her body came too quickly for her to stop them, for the suddenness of the pleasure had been as unexpected as its intensity. It still tingled through her. She could feel it up inside her bowels. And he, the unrelenting pervert, was doing his best to add to it.
Having found her weak spot, he concentrated on it with his encircling, sucking lips and used his tongue with great expertise to further add to her torment. Used in conjunction with the suction, the caresses of his tongue were now more than hard enough to equal the delights she delivered to herself with her fingers. It had been a mistake to relax before. Now, although she could strain against the ropes again and bite her lip to keep from moaning and panting, she couldn't tense up her vulva and reject the good feelings--better and better now--that were creeping inside her. If he kept it up much longer, she'd turn into one big receptacle of ecstasy, and that would never do. She had to fight him, but the battle was becoming so hard.
"I hope that... tastes good," she said.
"Like sweet cream," he replied, and she knew her sarcasm has been lost on him.
And she knew, too, that she was lost, for when he ran his tongue down through her melting slit, every place it touched was just as sensitive as her clitoris. It was inevitable that it happen and she'd been foolish to try to fight it, for as dirty as the practice of oral sex was, it was incredibly sweet to feel. She even knew why it was evil then. If every woman was attended to like this, she'd become a hopeless sex addict, with nothing else in the world on her mind.
* * *
She'd passed the point of normal orgasming and was moaning and thrashing uncontrollably on the bed. Her left hand had slipped free of its bonds and she was clutching at his hair with it. She was reacting to sex far more than when he'd been fucking her, and now her reaction was continual instead of in brief but intriguing spurts. Her cunt was fairly gushing its cream and now it was all soft and extremely warm, with its tissues and organs all swollen and inflamed. It was luscious to lick and delightful to bury his nose in, and the sight of her heaving body, seen through the mat of her dark pubic hair was an inspiring one. Perry's prick had been up for a very long time and he longed to get it inside that very ripe and ready cunt and feel his hard loins grinding against her soft wetness, but still he had to prolong this foreplay and think of his entire future rather than his immediate gratification.
But there was a good deal of immediate gratification in the way she tried to get him to go on when he lifted his head. She clawed at his hair and thrust upward with her hips, but he resisted easily and smiled as he gazed at her cunt, inviolate a few hours before, and now lasciviously red and open, and seething with its need for him.
"Had enough or do you want me to lick it a little more?"
"Oh, you bastard. You bastard!"
"Tsk tsk. Is that any way for a nice girl to talk?"
It was a pleasure to see her working so hard at pulling herself together, and then watch her dissolve into willing submission at the touch of his fingers in her cunt or the placement of another kiss there. He'd never eaten a chick for that long and he couldn't recall having seen one so hot, but perhaps her appearance of great sexual excitement was due in part to her perpetual cool appearance in the past, that and her great natural beauty. He felt very powerful now in being able to make her dance like a puppet at his touch.
"When little Miss Tightass gets goin', she really gets it on;" he said. "Look at yourself in the mirror."
* * * *
For a moment it looked like someone else on the bed. That gross-featured woman, thrashing on the tangled bedclothes looked like a schizophrenic alter ego, burst forth with overwhelming power after too long in captivity. The wanton, lustful sight sobered her, but only for a moment, for then he was back at her and she was watching in stunned disbelief as he attacked her breasts with his mouth and they were almost as sensitive as her leaking, itching vulva, where his fingers now easily performed the sweet tasks of his tongue. His penis was against her leg, long and hot, but by encircling his neck with her arm and jamming her nipple harder against his teeth she could forget about that. The ugliness of him, the shabbiness of the room, the whole world dissolved in her giddy bliss as she lost herself in orgasmic ecstasy that would have no end.
"Ready for a little cock now, baby?"
"Don't talk. Get it over with."
"I don't want to fuck you till you're good and ready. You want it in your cunt or in your butt-hole?"
With her vagina so open and ready, it was unthinkable be do it anywhere else~ "In front," she panted. "Just do it."
When he got up, it took her a moment to realize she'd actually asked for it, and shame flooded through her. She banished it with her free hand, roving it over her kiss-engorged breasts and cunt, and even finding a large measure of ecstasy in caressing her palpitating belly. What was he doing, leaving her to endure endless unfulfilled need now that he'd succeeded in contaminating her with his perversion? While he rummaged through the drawers of his bureau, she tried desperately to soothe her needs with her left hand. But she needed more than that. She needed him, all of him, bastard though he was, in order to bring an end to this blissful torture.
He turned and shocked her with the sight of his penis, as large and fierce-looking as when it had torn her virginity from her. In his hand was a small, foil-wrapped package, and in the time he took to rip it open, Laura cooled considerably. She was almost in control of herself again when he bent and dipped his tongue in her slit. In her renewed flailings she struck his penis with her hand and then had to look directly at it, amazed at its strength and resiliency, both repelled and attracted by it.
He put the rubber on by degrees. When he had the protective sheath around the head of his cock, he sucked and nipped each of her nipples and made her gasp and twisted her shoulders for him. Having rolled it halfway down his shaft, he used the tip of his tongue on the tip of her protruding clitoris, depriving her of more. When he had it fully on, he parted her labia widely with his fingers and wallowed his tongue and lips through the richly anointed trench of her cunt before positioning himself between her legs with his musk-smeared mouth an inch from her parted, panting lips.
"Ready for that cock now, Laura?"
"Put it in." It fit so perfectly in the hollow of her groin, but it would fit even better inside her.
"Give us a little kiss first, and I'll give you what you want, baby."
The decision was taken from her by his kissing her, very forcefully, and the wetness and taste of his mouth, the smell of it could even be tolerated in the hugely satisfying moments when he was making the insertion. There was nothing at all painful about it now. He was working it in very slowly, completing her need, and she hugged him and kissed him and sucked on his tongue until he had it all the way inside her, right up to the hilt, with his wet and hairy hardness pressing against her clitoris, just like she wanted.
He drew his mouth from hers and said, "You know I love you."
"Yes. I know. But..." she kissed him again, unable to think, let alone talk.
"You may not ever love me, but you love cock."
"Don't talk. Please!" She moved under his weight, to get him going, to shut him up.
"Admit it. You love to fuck. You dig cock."
"I hate you!"
"Tsk tsk. What can I do to change that?"
"Move! Do it! Get it over with!" she exclaimed, vainly trying to move his weight with her impeded body, and exerting a great effort to squeeze hard on that long, thick object deep and tight in her body.
"Move what, and where?"
"Just move! Do it, damn you!"
"Move what? My cock? Where? You tell me, baby, and I'll do it."
The insertion hadn't been what she'd been seeking. It was the friction of him moving in her, in and out, over and over, endlessly, even though it meant, hopeless addiction to fucking. It didn't matter. She welcomed the addiction and she clawed at his back and rasped at his reeking face, "Your cock in my cunt. Move it. Fuck me."
She was off on the wildest trip of her life. With long, deep, seemingly effortless strokes, he was pumping her full of life and ecstatic good feelings that went beyond any she'd ever known before. She felt herself bursting with it in every part of her body and she couldn't stop it even when she knew it was becoming more than she could bear. Then his body tensed and he began groaning, pumping faster, and she knew there was still more to it all and that she had to have it. She wanted to ask him for more but she was breathing too fast and he knew exactly what she wanted anyway, and then it burst like a gigantic sunrise inside her as she knew he was sharing in her great joy, and when he went limp on her, she did too.
"You're a great fuck, baby," he said.
Indeed she had been, though she was out of it now. If he'd known what was lying dormant in her before, he'd have been after her long ago. He'd meant to fuck her longer, exercising great control, but when she'd clamped down on his moving cock with her already tight cunt, it had been too much.
Reluctantly, he withdrew, and he had to grin at the way she sighed and frowned in her semi-stupor. She mumbled a protest when he was untying her and cupped her hand over her well-fucked cunt. She said yes when he asked her if she wanted to use the toilet, and he supported her into his bathroom. She watched but he didn't think she really saw it when he was peeling off the cum-filled rubber, and this went into the toilet before she was allowed to sit down on it. As he washed his prick in the basin-it was a kick to see her sitting there on the can, all slumped over, her pretty face sex-sodden and flushed through her tangled hair, her lovely tits hanging down, her refined hands limp in her lap, pissing.
She came willingly enough beck to bed with him and there he tied her right wrist to his left, though she feebly protested. It was better than tying her up all the way, for this way she'd be in contact with him all night, and there was no means by which she could escape anyway. He settled down to catch some sleep. With the weekend he bad in mind ahead of him, he'd need it.
Chapter 6
It was close to dawn when Laura woke up and began working on the knot. He'd turned the lights out but she could feel her way toward her freedom, and he was snoring so loudly she felt confident she could get the rope off without waking him.
Mustn't be overconfident, though. She'd seen the futility of that. Take her time, use her head, and don't think back on all she'd gone through. Look on the future when she'd be safe from him and he'd be behind bars, this Svengali of a brute who'd taken such dreadful advantage of her, who'd done such awful things to her. The milk had been drugged, but with an aphrodisiac and not vodka. She'd heard about Spanish Fly but had never quite believed it. Now she did, for only some weird and wicked drug could have made her respond in such an outrageous fashion to that nasty, sweat-smelling body beside her. The aftermath of her induced passion made her more sure it was from a drug, for she'd felt so terrifically tired and had not even cared about him seeing her going to the toilet. And that ugly rubber, all filled with his stuff--even the sight of that hadn't bothered her at the time, though now the mere thought of it made her ill. But the awful lust that had overwhelmed her, that was the worst part of it all. It gave her an insight into what consumes the drug addict, but she knew she was strong enough to resist its lure.
Laura suppressed a sigh of relief as she got the knot undone. She took more than a minute in stealthily leaving the bed of shame. Hopefully he'd still be sleeping when they came to drag him off to jail, protesting his innocence all the way and trying to blame it on her. That wouldn't work. Her reputation would back her up, and she meant to prosecute him even if it would mean disgrace, and losing Chuck's love. And Coleman's declaration of love, that bad been just one more part of the sneaky, forced seduction that had followed her rape. It was something else to make him pay for.
There was a light in the east, and she was loathe to make her escape in the nude. She couldn't risk waking him by either trying to take a sheet from the bed or some of his clothes from the dresser and now in the dark she couldn't find his dirty laundry, nor did she want to stay and look for it. The door to the living room creaked, but his snoring went right on. A table in the living room had a stained cloth on it--she remembered that--and she found it in the dark. She slowly pulled it off, and almost had it safely in her hands when something that had been on the table clattered to the floor.
She didn't wait to hear if it had awakened him. She leapt for the door, trailing the tablecloth behind her, and tasted one whiff of freedom before the big black dog attacked her.
The chain between his collar and the porch railing snapped taut and his explosive barking drove her back on her heels and into the house again, where Perry Coleman caught her from behind.
He had an erection. She could feel it against her backside, and it was almost as frightening as the dog's sudden barking. And then she could see it from the corner of her eye when he turned the lights on, and she tried to cover her front with the tablecloth.
He laughed and said, "I should have figured a company girl like you was an early riser. What'll it be first, Laura, breakfast or a shower--or would you like a little of this to start off the day?"
She sneered down at the bony flesh he held so obscenely in his hand and loftily replied, "I'd like a shower, but I wouldn't touch anything of yours to eat or drink."
"Okay, we'll take our shower first," he said, and took her by the wrist.
"What do you mean, we?"
"We'll shower together," he said with a leer. "It not only saves water, it's lots of fun."
"I'd no more take a shower with you than I'd eat your drugged food," she said, staring him straight in his evil eyes.
He became grim, frighteningly so. "You will take a shower with me, you'll eat my food--none of which is drugged--and you will not try to run away again, because if you do, I'll beat you within an inch of your life. C'mon."
She went with him. She was half sick with hunger and a hangover and too demoralized by her thwarted escape to be able to resist. And when he got that look in his eye, he was so intimidating.
In the cracked shower stall, he was jolly and playful. The water running over her didn't provide even the meager protection of the tablecloth he'd taken from her, and she was constantly flinching away from him as he tickled and poked at her and tried to draw her against his slick, wet body. His demeanor had the reverse effect on her and soon she began to cry. It disgusted him.
"Jesus Christ, can't you learn to relax and swing with it a little? Do I have to start from scratch with you every time?"
"I didn't want to take a shower with you," she blubbered, letting herself be drawn against him.
He said, "Okay, honey. Finish your shower by yourself. Then we'll have a little breakfast, maybe make a little loves and then I've got to shag down to the Happy Hour and get your car."
She readily agreed, for he'd not only offered her a respite for the moment but would also give her another chance to escape in his absence. It was wonderful to be in the shower alone, cleansing herself of his filth, although surprisingly enough, she couldn't see or feel any of it in her vagina. She stayed as long as she could, turned off the water, and stepping from the stall was paralyzed by the sight of him seated on the toilet, reading a magazine.
Was he defecating right there in the same room with her, right there on the same toilet he'd seen her sitting on? It was even more of an affront to her badly damaged modesty, but she had to go on for the towels were on the other side of him, and now he was smiling up expectantly at her. She held her breath as she came forward, naked, with all the dignity she could muster.
She'd almost succeeded in getting past him when he grabbed her by the hips and turned her to face him, leaned forward and worked his tongue into the top of her wet slit. The unexpectedness of it, the sheer grossness of it, rocked her back on her heels. She made the mistake of grasping his head to keep her balance, and he took that as encouragement and drew her closer, tongued her deeper. In spite of herself, she had a flashback to when that same tongue had produced such fantastically wonderful sensations in her vulva, and at that she tried to push him away.
He pulled back his head, but his hands were still firmly holding her quaking hips as he licked his lips and said, "That beats orange juice for starting off the day. Now turn around and bend over and let me taste what I've been lookin' at for the past year."
Bewildered when he turned her about, she was shocked when he began licking the water off her behind. She would have broken away from the warm, slimy tickling but his fingers dug more deeply into her thighs. Was there no end to his depravity? She managed to look over her shoulder and confirm what her fanny was feeling, and it made her smile a little. That was just the place for a man like him, kissing her ass. She thought of what else he'd said, about her bending over, and she smiled more cruelly.
His long fingers dug into her hips; his thumbs parted her buttocks, and he started licking her anus. She couldn't believe it! No one, not even a degenerate like him, would do that. At first she was embarrassed for the whole human race, and then she became angry at this member of the race that was defiling it all. If she could have, she'd have pooped right in his face, but the fiendishly creepy feelings back there had her sphincter very tightly closed.
He tried to open it with his tongue, and she exclaimed, "How can you do such a thing! Stop before I get sick."
"Like you gut sick of me eating your cunt last night?" he asked, and sent a stab of pleasure through her by slipping his tongue in her vagina and then licking back up to her anus again.
Laura felt very light-headed. Supporting herself with her hands on her knees, she looked back between her legs at him. He was not only licking her there, he was enjoying it. That was obvious, for, framed between her pendant breasts, she could see his penis, and it was up hard again. She was beginning to see how a person might like to have someone do this to her, but in no way could she imagine the doer enjoying it. It was a little bit like having your vagina tongued, a fact which he reminded her of by slipping his tongue down there again. But she wished he'd stop. She thought he was going to when he quit digging into her buttocks so hard with his fingers, but then he slid one hand down between her thighs and up again, and started diddling her slit.
It was wet, and not just from the shower. There really was a sexual feeling connected with what he was doing with his tongue, and it might be explained by the proximity of her anus to her vulva. Then again, it might all be due to his fingers, which she could clearly see working softly and accurately through the sodden hair of her cunt. But even his other hand, massaging the flesh that he'd been so tightly gripping, felt good. If it was true that a woman's buttocks were an erogenous zone, it should follow that her anus would be the very core of that zone. He knew that from experience, and loving her in his misguided way, he was using his knowledge in trying to please her. And if she'd been a more liberated person, she might have really liked It.
Laura tried to concentrate on only the workings of his fingers, for in that way she felt it might be possible to experience an orgasm, but she couldn't do it. His tongue, stabbing and swirling in her asshole, was too much to be ignored. God, it felt wonderful, and she reached back to part her buttocks for him, to feel more of it.
He chose that time to stop, and when he did, she almost pitched forward on her face. He held her up, straightened her, and then he turned her around and kissed her. The kiss took her breath away and made her realize how hot and panting she'd been. It made her breasts feel very good to be mashed against his chest, and it even made his penis pressing against her belly a hugely exciting thing. And then it sickened her when she remembered with stark clarity just where the tongue in her mouth had been.
She savagely wrenched away, and he followed, laughing, saying, "Not so bad, is it? Got you all turned on again, didn't it? We'll get back to it later, but now, how are you at scrambling some eggs? I've worked myself up quite an appetite."
In the little kitchen of the shack, she was so furious that she felt she might explode. She was furious at herself for having reacted to that disgusting perversion, and she had reacted--she could still feel the seething itch all down between her legs. It was so bad her cunt was brimming over, but she adamantly refused herself the luxury of scratching it even one little bit. And she was furious at him for having so used her, for having reduced her to such a degree of mindless sensory reception.
He sat in a chair at the oilcloth-covered table, his prick peeking up from between his crossed legs like some obscene plum. He was reading the paper as if nothing had happened, and he was smirking to add to her fury. Her impulse was to brain him with the frying pan, but that, wouldn't do. She'd learned at Consolidated that it was logical planning, and not rash action, that got things done. And the back door was right there.
Haughtily, she heated up the frying pan and got milk and eggs from the refrigerator. Going through the motions of preparing the meal, she almost succeeded in stilling the shaking of her hands, but she could not stop the itching in her cunt. But she could think now. The salt was on a shelf by the back door. She poured the beaten eggs in the frying pan and eased over toward it. It didn't matter now about running out naked. She could hide in the cornfield until dark, if necessary, but in her present infuriated state of mind, she was ready to walk naked into the police station and say, "Look what he did to me! Just look!"
When she knew she could make it, she lunged toward the door, wrenched it open, and found herself confronted with a deep freezer. She was trying madly to climb over it when those same strong hands gripped her hips and pulled her back inside, and she began crying.
"You just don't know when you're well off, do you?" he said, and taking her by the hair, dragged her, stumbling, into the bedroom. There, he sat on the bed and forced her to lie across his lap. He said, "Remember what I just got done telling you about what I'd do if you tried to run away? Here it comes."
Laura's parents had believed in reason as opposed to corporal punishment when she was a girl, and the only spankings she'd received in her life had been playful ones, on her birthdays. This was anything but playful now. His hand was huge, and terribly strong. He knew just where to spank her to hurt her the most, which, it seemed, was all over her bottom. The blows themselves were terribly sharp and loud, and she quickly lost count of them, and in between those blows she could feel her ass swelling up and smarting more and more. He spanked her with his right hand and held her hair with his left, pulling her head back so far that she couldn't move without breaking her neck. She could scream, however, very loudly, and she could kick her feet and beat the bed with her fists. None of this did any good toward stopping her humiliating and painful chastisement, but somehow it helped to make it easier.
When he at last stopped spanking her, he went on hurting her in a different way. He took great handfuls of her blistered bottom, squeezing it and saying, "What a beautiful goddamn ass. It sticks right up, and now it's red all over. I've gotta have a little more of that."
He laid her, still weeping loudly, face down on the bed, and he got behind her, opened out her legs, and began kissing her ass again. She was so sore there that even the soft pressure of his lips and tongue was painful, but the pain was very incidental to the enormous sensual pleasure he was delivering to her. It felt so good she couldn't believe it was only his mouth and hands there, and she opened her eyes to try to confirm what she was feeling. She saw herself with her face mashed against the bed, all red and puffy and tear-streaked, and looking very much like that of a little girl. Her ass, however, was unmistakably that of a woman. It stuck up from her quivering, twitching body in an utterly beautiful fashion, and for the first time in her life she could see why it attracted men, for it even looked sexy to her. She could see why he loved to kiss and caress it, too, and she wondered if he knew what effect it was having on her. Her entire ass was as sensitive as her clitoris, and his kisses were so exciting she felt as if she was orgasming all the time.
"Now, isn't this better than getting a spanking?" he asked between hot, thrilling kisses.
"Don't stop," she muttered into the bedclothes. "Please don't stop."
"Upsadaisy! Get up on your knees, babe," he said, and heaved her up by her hips.
Now her ass loomed huge behind her, perfectly curved and glowing a rosy pink, by far the highest part of her body, as her breasts and face were still mashed against the bed. Prick in hand, he waddled forward on his knees, grinning broadly at the terrifically erotic sight he saw. She felt she was coming all the time he was working the meaty knob of his prick up and down her foamy wet cunt, and when he shoved it all the way in, her orgasm reached a peak.
It wasn't like the others she'd known. Before, when she'd reached the zenith of sexual pleasure, she'd had to thrash and heave about, as if in search of something more. Now she was perfectly still, knowing nothing she could do would add to her pleasure. He was sawing it in and out of her most lustily, hanging on tightly to her hips with both hands, his body curved, his stomach muscles bunching with each deep stroke. In the mirror, she could see much of his cock each time he pulled back, and her labia could be seen being pulled back with it. And now whole body was as sensitized as her buttocks. In addition to being able to feel his individual pubic hairs when they pressed against her ass, she could feel the weave of the sheets with her nipples and the trickle of her love juice as it ran down her leg.
He was fucking her very hard, and it was sheer heaven. It was just as good when he pulled out his dripping cock and stuck it in her ass. He grimaced and his hands dug deeper into her hips. He was coming in her, and she loved that, for she wanted everyone in the world, even him, to feel as good as she did.
He wanted the same thing. As he squirted his cum in her orgasming body, he grunted, "Come! Now, baby. Come!"
She thought she couldn't come any harder and then she thought she was coming harder, for her love juice was flooding out of her as fast as the good feelings were flooding in. But then, as his final plunges drove her down flat on the mattress and she felt how wet it was on her belly, she realized she'd lost control of her bladder in her heavy orgasm and wet herself. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that wonderful big cock in her.
He began to pull it out, and she clutched at the bedclothes and babbled, "No, wait! Just a minute! Perry, don't take it ... Ahhh," she sighed, for when it was gone, it had left behind delicious, deep languor.
"What a fuck," Perry said. "Baby, you sure learn fast. I fucked the piss right out of you. You asleep? Hey, I gotta go get your car.. I hate to tie you up again, but I'm going to have to. It won't be for long, Laura. Remember, I love you."
Chapter 7
It took Perry almost two hours to run his errands, and Laura was still sleeping when he returned to the house. First he'd driven to within six blocks of the Happy Hour and walked the rest of the way to Laura's car. He'd driven it back to where he'd parked his car and left her VW there, inconspicuously parked on a residential street. He'd gone on to Helen's apartment next. She'd been pleased with his progress thus far and had given him some of her birth-control pills, her Polaroid camera, and best of all, suggestions and advice. The shopping center had been his next stop, where he'd spent a large part of his pay on food and drink from the supermarket and on exotic lingerie from the boutique. He tried out the camera first thing, and the results were gratifying. Distorted against the bed, Laura's face was still recognizable, as was her ass, sticking alluringly up behind her, the deep crack between her globular buttocks concealing where he'd been. He propped the picture up on the kitchen sink to look at while he put away his purchases and mixed a pitcher of Bloody Mary's. He put it away and undressed before he went into his bedroom again.
"How you feeling?" he asked, untying her bonds.
"Go 'way," she muttered. "It's Sunday."
He chuckled and said, "No, Laura. It's only Saturday, and it's a beautiful day, and it's time to wake up."
She opened her lovely eyes and frowned at him for a few moments, and then recognition came and her cheeks reddened and her expression grew sullen. "I was hoping it was all a nightmare."
"It's a dream come true for me," he said, and tried to help her sit up.
She pushed him away and sat up by herself, with her knees hugged against her breasts. Looking down at the stain she'd made on the tangled sheet, she blushed anew.
"Feel like, a shower first or a Bloody Mary?" he asked.
"Neither, if it's with you."
"You can go into the bathroom by yourself, and take a drink in with you."
Her stomach was growling to have anything put in it, but she said, "I don't want your damned drink."
"Then take a shower," he said, and taking her hand, drew her from the bed.
She put up token resistance all the way, and then it was a great relief to be alone in the bathroom. She looked for razor blades first, although she didn't think she'd have the nerve to kill herself, and found that he shaved with an electric razor. She relieved herself and showered for a long time, and drank the shower water as she did. It didn't appease her hunger and she was irritated at her stomach for being so demanding at a time like this. She thought about just staying in there, but he'd break the door down. She wondered how, long she could go without food or drink, for she didn't want to be drugged again, and then realized with a shock that she hadn't been drugged that morning. Her sexual response had been due entirely to his advances and to the weakness of her own body, for she hadn't eaten or drunk anything since the night before. It made her ashamed of herself, and more than a little frightened by the previously unrecognized needs that dwelt inside her. Having recognized them now, however, she'd be on guard in the future and thus able to resist those wonderful, dirty feelings that the highly experienced rapist had forced upon her.
She considered leaving her hair a tangle, to be unattractive to him. But he didn't care about that. All he saw in her was down between her legs, and so she brushed out her hair before the mirror, with a towel wrapped around her from breast to loin, the better to conceal the body which had betrayed her.
Cautiously leaving the bathroom, her nostrils were assailed with the most delicious cooking odors. She had to see what it was, but first she quickly gathered up the bedclothes, yellow-stained sheet and all, and dumped them on the floor to remove one more reminder of her lack of self-control. With dignity and boldness, she walked into the kitchen, where he was standing before the stove. He turned and she glimpsed his penis, dangling soft and limp, before she sat down at the table.
"Want to finish up the steak and eggs?" he asked, and set the spatula on the sink and sat down across from her.
"No. I'm not going to cook for you."
"Then let it burn," he said, and filled two glasses with the red stuff in the pitcher.
He drank and smacked his lips while she stared coldly at hers. The sputtering of the breakfast cooking had her mouth watering, and she was dying to see what it was. She doubted if there was a drug in the Bloody Mary's, for he'd drunk it. She knew there was alcohol in it, and she felt she might need a little of that. Being a practical girl as well as a very hungry one, she took two deep and satisfying swallows of the spicy drink and rose to use the spatula.
The frying pan was overcrowded with sunny eggs and browning steaks, and Laura quickly became involved in cooking. She didn't even do more than protest when he took the towel from her, for she couldn't risk burning the breakfast and, after all, he'd seen her naked before. She wasn't aware that he'd taken her picture until she was seated at the table again, and there she saw herself stark naked before the stove, with a look of avid hunger on her face. She had to ignore the picture then, for the steak and eggs demanded all her attention. The food was gobbled up and washed down with a second glass of Bloody Mary, and when it was gone she felt like taking a nap.
The clicking of the camera brought her back to reality, and she sneered and said, "You like dirty pictures too, eh?"
Stripping out the film, he calmly replied, "I like beautiful pictures. And when I go back to jail, I want to have some with me, not that I'd ever have to be reminded of how you look, Laura."
She tried to wither him with a scornful look, and failing that, got up and cleared off the table. As she was rinsing the dishes, he showed her the completed picture. It was just of her head and shoulders, and she did look quite pretty, faintly smiling after the big meal, and modest enough with her bare breasts out of the frame. She sniffed disdainfully at it, and he backed up and took another picture of her doing the dishes.
"I'll be darned if I'll do your housework and let you take naked pictures of me!" she said, and started to stalk out of the kitchen.
Laughing, he caught her in his arms and tried to kiss her. She resisted with only partial success, and his body was still pressed to hers when he said, "Come on in the living room and let's talk."
She sat sulking on the couch while he put on some records and then came to sit beside her. He took her hand in his and said, "I love you, Laura."
"You love sex," she angrily replied.
He laughed and put his arm about her. "Sex is part of love. I love you a lot and I'd like to have a lot of sex with you before they haul me away. I'd like some right now."
From the corner of her eye she could see his penis was in no condition for that, so she said, "Then rape me again."
"I probably will," he confessed with a grin. "You seem to dig it so. But there are other things."
"I hate it when you even touch me."
"Not always. Be honest, Laura. When you're excited enough, you really go for it in a big way. And there are times when you'd like to touch me. I'd like you to touch me now," he said, and pulled her hand toward his lap.
She jerked her hand from his, saying, "I'd never touch that dirty thing."
"You already have. It's been in your pussy and in your ass. Take it in your hand now."
"I will not!"
He shrugged. "Do you want it in your hand or in your mouth?"
She knew he could do it. He could make it hard and ugly again and tie her up and force her to accept it in between her soft pink lips. She shook her head at him in vast exasperation and dropped her hand on his lap.
It was only human flesh, she reasoned, and she had to preserve whatever part of her virginity that she could. Touching that warm, soft organ with her hand was far better than having it jammed in her mouth, hard and hot.
He opened his legs and drew her closer, and she maintained an expression of disgust as she wrapped her fingers around it. She expected it to spring to life with a twang, but it grew only slowly, and as it did, he grinned more broadly and squeezed her waist and hip. It was hard to believe it could grow to the size she'd become familiar with. She gingerly squeezed it and stroked it, only faintly nauseous at the prospect of its inevitably being inserted in her yet again. She could feel where it was going to go once she'd made it hard, and to have it over and done with more quickly, she stroked it more.
She ventured to look at it as it grew. Half hard and quite flexible, it fit in her hand very well. It didn't really frighten her at the moment, nor did the big man who held his arm so fondly about her. Even the little house wasn't so sinister now in the light of day. His penis was getting quite hard, and long. It was fully seven inches long and it had a certain proud but primitive beauty about it as it jutted up from his hairy loins. There was nothing at all attractive about his testicles, though, those sinister spheres nestled between his legs in the hairy sac. She squeezed his rock-hard shaft tightly, trying to hurt him, and it only made him sigh with pleasure. Soon it would be inside her, and in spite of herself, she'd probably be sighing with pleasure too.
"You're ugly, and so is this," she said, stroking it up and down, and finding the knob of it surprisingly soft.
He shuddered and sighed and hugged her closer, and looking at his face she could see his weakness in it. She realized she could confuse as well as excite him in this way and thus perhaps make her escape, and that knowledge was exciting to her. The thing to do was to excite him without gratifying him; and at the moment it didn't seem like it would be hard to do. Just stroke it very softly, enough so that it felt very good, but not enough to drive him to the point where he'd want to have intercourse with her right away. That point would come, but the longer she delayed it, the better off she was. And now that she'd touched him there, it wasn't so bad. There was even a sort of a thrill in having stimulated him so easily with her hand, so small and soft in comparison to his big hardness. She smiled with her growing knowledge of his weakness.
"You see? It's not so bad," he said, stroking her back and shoulder. "In time you'll get to like it. All women do."
"I doubt that," she said coolly, experimenting now by running her fingertips very lightly over the blood-filled head of it, and observing how he fidgeted and pulled her closer.
"Hey, I almost forgot," he said, and got up from the couch.
She was surprised at how easily he'd left the caress of her hand, that hand which could still feel the warmth of him. He went into the kitchen, and Laura took the opportunity to look out through the front door window. The dog was still there, sleeping but ready, and she returned to the couch. He came back in with a glass of water in his hand, his fully erect penis preceding him, bobbing with his steps in a rather ludicrous way.
"Take this," he said, and showed her the little pink pill in the palm of his hand.
"It's an aphrodisiac, isn't it?"
"It's a birth-control pill. You'd better take it because I'm not about to use a rubber on you again."
Being pregnant by him was an awful thought, so she took it, with him standing by, his huge penis on a level with her eyes. Even if it was an aphrodisiac, she vowed she wouldn't get so aroused she'd take that thing in her mouth.
He sat down and started necking with her, very smoothly and gently. She felt herself becoming sexually aroused, but not to the extent she'd be if the pill had been an aphrodisiac. She felt as she did during a long necking session with Chuck, and that was understandable, for although Perry was not the man she loved, they were both naked and the sensuality of the physical contact could not be denied. Her vagina was moistening as a result of his caresses and kisses, and also, it seemed, from the feeling of his penis in her hand.
It was really remarkable how hard and springy it was, and now that she'd overcome her first fears, it felt rather good in her hand. It seemed to have an odor about it which was not wholly unpleasant. Best of all, her fondling of it made him react with sighs and shiverings, and it felt good to be able to exercise this small power of him. She was starting to relax and enjoy herself when she noticed the clear liquid oozing out of it. She was shaken then by how close she'd come to making him ejaculate, and she extricated herself from his embrace.
Wanting to wash her hand, she said, "I'd better do the dishes."
To her relief, he let her go, but to her distress, he followed her into the kitchen. He played around with her as she washed the dishes, petting her and kissing her, his cock touching her buttocks and hips to remind her of where it would soon be going. He tickled her and tried to make her laugh, and she grew increasingly nervous about his forcing her to suck his cock after all. She turned and let him kiss her directly on the mouth tremulously slipping her arms about his waist and pulling him a little closer. She wanted his cock to feel the warmth of her belly rather than that of her mouth.
It pleased him. "That's it. You see, you can relax."
"I suppose you . . . want to go to bed now."
"You ready?" he asked with a smile, and slid his hand down over her trembling body to her loins, and there slipped his finger into the moist folds of her vulva. "Yeah, you're about ready. Let's take the rest of the Bloody Mary's, make the bed, and get in it."
He led her along with an arm about her waist, the pitcher of drinks, in his other hand, his cock bobbing before him. Why didn't he get it over with? How long would it stay up like that? Helping her put fresh sheets on the bed, his penis began to deflate. She felt a certain pang when she saw that, and she was ashamed of herself for it.
"Lie down and I'll pour us a drink and we can talk."
"We have nothing in common to talk about," she said, climbing up on the bed.
"We could talk about how much I love you. Or if you don't want to talk, you could just lie there while I take a few more pictures of you. You are so beautiful, Laura. And..."
"And what?" she said, watching his prick as it slowly started swelling again, all of its own accord.
"And I bought you some lingerie. Some sexy stuff. I'd sure like to get a few shots of you in that."
She shook her head in disgust. "If I'm so beautiful, why do you have to see me in cheap clothes like that?"
"So I won't take any pictures now. We'll just make out," he said, and flopped down on the bed with her and started necking again.
Horizontally it was even more exciting. She couldn't help but get aroused, for he was a very smooth lover when he wanted to be, and she was normal enough to be further aroused by his cock pressing against her flanks and belly. He seemed to be in no hurry, and this relaxed her and let the excitement in her spread. She'd returned to the point of wanting him to put it in her, and with the help of the drink she could admit to herself that this was largely for selfish reasons. She simply wanted to have it in her for the good feelings it inevitably brought. But while before he'd been in such a hurry for her that he'd done it without even coming in out of the rain, now he was in no hurry at all. He rolled her all about on the bed, kissing and caressing her and doing his best to make her forget she was there against her will.
She was hot. She wanted his cock in her very badly, and since no one would ever know she'd said it, she murmured, "Go on, Perry. Put it in."
"My cock?"
"Yes, your cock, darn it! Put your cock in my cunt and fuck me. Is that what you wanted to hear? Honestly!"
"That's what I wanted to hear," he chuckled. "But it's not what I want to do. I want to eat you first."
He had her sit on his chest, and with a pillow under his head, he licked her cunt. In this position she could look down and see how he did it, and that made it more exciting still. She liked the feeling of his hands on her buttocks, pulling her forward against his mouth. His tongue was the same color as her vulva, but more coarsely textured, and he used it very well. She got that flying sensation, the feeling of that other person inside her emerging, and she started to come.
There was no point in trying to hold it back. She bit her lip and moaned, grasped his head and opened her legs wider. She was flowing with the delicious sensations when he quit her buttocks with his hands and squeezed her breasts, hard, and the full fury of the orgasm struck her. She groaned and cried out, dug her fingers into his head and rubbed her exploding cunt against his mouth. He winked and sucked hard on her clitoris, and in the throes of her lust she toppled over to the side. He stayed right with her, wringing every drop of pleasure from her with his tongue, until it all became too much and her passionate thrashings slowed and stopped.
Mercifully he let her alone, for she was exhausted. She lay on her side, the tinglings very slowly subsiding, and didn't move when she felt something soft being thrown over her. At the click of the camera she opened her eyes and saw that he'd draped her spent body with lingerie--black and red and lacy. He took several pictures, and then he was kissing her again before she recalled that he hadn't yet fucked her.
"Put it in now," she murmured, all hot again after just a few minutes of the erotic wrestling.
"Going to go down on you some more first," he said, his breath hot against her breast. "But you'll get enough fucking before the weekend is over with."
She could feel his mouth on her cunt even before it got there. His kisses down her body so electrified her that she thrust her cunt up to meet him and groaned in ecstasy at the first hot contact of his tongue. It was good. It was better than before, just as each experience she had with his exceeded the last. With no qualms now, she placed her hand on the back of his head and let herself writhe in ecstasy.
With her on her back, he was lying partially on his side to eat her cunt, and when he took her hand in his, it was no strain to reach his cock. It seemed much harder, much bigger, and she opened her eyes to confirm this. So close to her face, it was hard to tell. Pulsing in her moving hand, throbbing inches before her eyes, the knob of it seemed huge. By milking the shaft forward, she could make the knob look even bigger, and she could make it recede and draw tight when she milked it back. There were many subtle shades of tan and pink in it, and its veins and ridges were yielding to her touch. The smell wasn't so bad. It certainly wasn't as bad as what he was smelling.
She realized, he was seducing her into becoming a cocksucker, and he was doing it very well, He was licking her everywhere down there, from her clitoris to her asshole, and he was doing it very thoroughly, as if he really did enjoy it. But his enjoyment was immaterial. What mattered most was hers, and God, she was truly enjoying it now. Her first orgasm had only been a prelude for others, and she came again and again until all her orgasms were rolled up into one long continuing burst of pleasure.
It did have its peaks, and she was made aware of these when he began moving his cock, fucking her hand. Then she quickly resumed stroking it, knowing she had to keep him happy, but not knowing why. The lapping noises he was making were adding to her pleasure, as was the sight of them both in the mirror. He held her very tightly and sucked her very hard, and as she squealed with delight, he began ejaculating.
His semen, accumulated during their long foreplay, erupted right in her face. Her squeals turned to gasps as the hot white stuff squirted into her hair and eye, onto her lips and cheek. Still caught in the orgasmic delirium, Laura continued to milk the big cock with jerking movements of her hand, frantic to bring the spurts of sticky, smelly sperm to an end. It kept coming and coming, while he writhed and moaned, and she had the most insane urge to take his cock in her mouth and suck the rest of it out of him. At last it stopped squirting and was reduced to a dribble, and Laura let go of it and wiped her hand on the bedclothes. She was badly shaken and trying to get out of bed when he pulled her back.
His face was all wet from her cunt, but he was grinning happily as he said, "I thought you were going to give with a little sixty-nine there for a minute."
"Let me up. I've got to go to the bathroom." The sperm on her lips was threatening to run into her mouth, and it had to be washed off immediately.
"Okay, go to the john. How about putting on some of this fancy underwear when you get back? I won't make you do it, but it'd be a gas if you did. And if you did that, I'd do my part by showing you every position for fucking there is."
She compressed her lips to keep the stuff from getting in her mouth, but already she could taste it.
"What do you say, babe?" he persisted, holding her by the wrists. "You about ready to relax and swing with me for the rest of the weekend? I'll turn myself in to the cops Monday morning if you want, but give me this weekend without any more hassle. Okay?"
She nodded and twisted away, and he let her up. In the bathroom, she scrubbed her face in the basin and washed the stuff off her shoulder and breasts. She wanted to be sick, but couldn't bring herself to stick her finger down her throat. She looked at herself in the mirror, and the girl she saw was a wanton, eyes heavy-lidded from the booze, features ripely swollen from the sex, a gob of white cum in her tangled hair. Sure, she'd swing with him over the weekend. She had little left to lose, and the matter had really been taken out of her hands. She'd doll up in the sexy clothes and let him show her any position he could think of, and the guilt would be his--or at least most of it would be.
Chapter 8
At seven o'clock on Monday morning, Perry was sitting down on the john just as Laura was emerging from the shower. She'd had a good deal more to drink than he had the day before, and now she still looked a little drunk. Her blue eyes were largely hidden by her lashes. There was a small, aimless smile on her kiss-bruised lips, and she had to steady herself from time to time as she toweled her lush, young body. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd fucked her, and when he'd fallen asleep the night before he'd felt he might never fuck anyone again. But he'd awakened with a hard-on that morning and a sleepy necking session in bed had further restored his desire for her. He hadn't gotten her to go down on him, but that was all right. He had turned her into a damned good lay, and he was justifiably proud of that accomplishment. Best of all, he knew he didn't have a thing to worry about insofar as her reporting him to anyone. The Miss Tightass he'd raped no longer existed. The chick he was looking at now was Miss Eveready, and he felt like proving that to himself again.
He snapped his fingers and said, "Hey, bring it over here."
"Bring what?" she said, puzzled.
In answer he licked his lips and looked at her box. She grinned crookedly and placed her hands on her hips. She minced toward him in the hip-swinging gait he'd taught her, and she looked just as sexy naked as she did in the sexy lingerie. She stopped with her hairy triangle four inches before his face, thrust it two inches closer, and said, "Is this what you wanted?"
"I'm not sure. Open it up and let's see?"
Her ten fingers drew her labia out and up, and her stance altered to an obscene one. Her clitoris seemed much larger than when he'd first seen it. It was fully exposed and waiting, and without laying a hand on her, he leaned further forward and flicked it with his tongue.
"Ahhh. That's what I need," she said, her voice furry and coming from deep in her throat. "You always know what I need. You really going to work today?"
He nodded, and she made urgent little sighing sounds and moved closer. Standing between his knees, she held herself open with one hand and used the other to caress his head. He concentrated on her cut for perhaps a minute and then backed off, and taking his cock in his hand, pointed it up at her. Breathing hard, moving her hands restlessly over her body, she gazed hungrily down at it.
"Yeah," she murmured. "That's just what I need now."
"Climb aboard," he said, and closed his legs.
She came forward awkwardly but quickly, not caring how ungraceful were her movements. He played with her tits with both hands, further stimulating her while she made the insertion. Eager and half-drunk as she was, she did it well, holding herself open with her left hand, grasping his cock with her right, guiding them together, then sighing all the way as she sat down facing him, with his long, hard prick sliding home.
She worked her ass around on his lap, making the fit even more comfortable and getting that delicious friction she so badly needed. She squeezed him as hard as she could with her cunt and she smiled as she did, partly because of the blissful expression it brought to him, partly because it felt so damned good. He was working her tits over good, too, and she in turn tweaked his cute little nipples for him. Rolling her weight on her mobile ass-cheeks, she did the work in moving him in and out. She stopped with it halfway out, and both of them grinned as they looked at their intimate union. Their eyes met and she stuck her tongue out and beckoned to him. He came forward and they tangled tongues, and even without moving, both could feel their orgasms approaching. His fingers dug into her tits, and there it came. It sent her senses skyrocketing and she started moving, fast. Sucking on his cunt-tasting mouth, toes digging at the bathroom floor, she sloshed his big, fat prick in and out of her with all her might until both were moaning and clutching, gasping and coming, and whipping their mixed love juices into a foamy lather.
She clung to him with her head on his shoulder while their breathing slowly came hack to normal. From time to time he squeezed her buttocks, and each little squeeze was a sharp reminder of the bliss of orgasm. He slapped her there sharply and she moaned at how good it all felt.
"Better get up," he said. "I gotta go to work, even if you don't."
"I'm just gonna sleep all day."
"Thatsa girl. And when I get home, you're gonna be all dolled up for me and have a nice big gin and tonic waiting for me, right?"
She nodded and snuggled closer.
"So, get up, chickie. I gotta take a leak."
"Mm. So do I," she said, but she didn't move.
"Why didn't you do it in the shower?"
"Didn't think of it. I think I'm still a little drunkie. Are you?"
"I feel okay. But get up. Now."
She drew back, and with her arms still slung about his neck, looked him squarely in the eye. There was an odd little smile on her lips as she said, "D'you really have to pee?"
"I sure do."
"So do I," she said, and her breathing increased.
Her nipples rose and her creased belly moved in and out with her faster breathing. A startled expression came over Perry's face and both of them looked down at where her urine was bubbling up through their mingled hairs.
"D'you mind?" she panted, squirming her nipples against his chest.
"Well . . . no," he said.
"You do it too. Quickly! Pee in me. Now!"
"Horny bitch," he said, chuckling, and wishing he could feel all the things she was knowing in this weird orgasm he'd brought her with his thoroughly limp cock.
* * * *
At nine o'clock that Monday morning, Helen Peterson was in the pilot plant, going through the pictures Perry had taken with her camera. Seated on his desk, her shapely legs crossed under her miniskirt, she said, "It's hard to believe it's the same girl. You did a good job on her."
"Yep," he said, hands clasped behind his neck, rocking back and forth in his old swivel chair. "I got her turned on to everything but blowing me, and I don't need that. I'm sure I got what I needed, that she won't say a word about this to anyone. I sure thank you, Helen."
"My pleasure," she said, returning to look at a picture of Laura on his bed, smiling for the camera, one hand holding a drink, the other cupped over her black bikinied crotch. "And you're willing to settle for that?"
"Hell, no. I'm gonna be fucking her regular now, I'm sure of that. She's a damned good lay. She like to wore me out."
"Think she'd swing with somebody besides you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I know a good way to find out." He grinned. "You and Bobby come over tonight."
"That's one thing I had in mind."
He placed his hand on her nylon-covered leg and said, "Our minds work the same way. I think you and me could get along pretty good, Helen. What else did you have in mind?"
"I mentioned to you that I didn't always give it away. That's still true about me."
"I suppose you got where you are at Consolidated by not giving it away. Good for you."
"I sure as hell didn't get to be an executive secretary by being a company gal, like Laura Dandridge. It's a good job, but sometimes I get bored in Sulfur City. Like about once a month. Then I get on a plane on Friday night and fly to Las Vegas. I see some shows, do some gambling, eat and drink pretty well--and it doesn't cost me a cent. I have some friends there, you see. They line me up with three or four dates over the weekend. I'm nice to them, and they're nice to me. It's a good arrangement for a gal."
"Yeh. It sounds good," he said, looking at her with new respect, and reaching toward the lacy hem of her panties with his fingers.
"I'd like to see little Laura get in on a good thing like that. I'd like to see her working there all the time, getting all the cock she wants, and more. I know my friends there would appreciate her working for them. They'd appreciate it enough, I'd say, to arrange for a nice weekend in Vegas for you, if you could help talk Laura into changing her profession. Would you like to spend a weekend in Vegas?"
"Yes," he said, "and if you're gonna be there at the same time, hell yes. I'll start talking to her about it as soon as I get home."
"No. Don't rush it. I know about these things, and she has to be approached right. Wait till after our little party, and let me do most of the talking."
"You're the boss when it comes to this, Helen." He pushed up her skirt, exposing more of her full, tapered thighs. "Feel like a little party now? She didn't wear me out all the way this weekend."
She looked over her shoulder, through the window at the empty road and the chemical plant at the end of it. She uncrossed her legs and placed one high-heeled foot in his lap. Working her toe against the bulge there, she said, "You better save that for tonight. But how's your tongue? Is that tired?"
He stuck it out and wriggled it, as if testing it, and said, "It feels fine. How do you like it, slow or fast, plain or fancy?"
"Slow and fast, plain and fancy, and front and back," she replied, and lifted her hips to let him take down her panties.
* * * *
Laura awoke sometime after noon with a mild headache and a ravenous appetite. She drank a strong, fortifying Bloody Mary while she cooked a breakfast fit for a farmhand, and drank another while eating it. She took her second shower of the day and washed her hair, and with a towel wrapped around her head, she washed out the lingerie she'd worn most of Saturday night and Sunday. It was sunny outside and she put on one of Perry's shirts and cautiously ventured out on the front porch. The dog growled at her at first, but when she held out her hand his ears perked up and his tongue lolled out and he permitted her to pet him. He followed her to the end of his chain and she went on to the clothesline, where the lingerie was hung out to dry. There were no neighbors to see it, or her, so she took off the shirt and strolled around the littered yard and got some sun. Returning to the house, the dog touched his cold nose against her ass and she slapped him. Inside, she made another drink, turned on the TV, and flopped down on the couch to watch it. The daytime programs were dull, but they kept her mind occupied.
There was little to do around there when Coleman was gone. She'd probably spend the whole week there, sleeping and drinking and fucking. She knew she should go to her apartment, if only to check her mailbox, but that seemed like another world, one which was too much trouble to even try to return to. Her cunt was sore and she gently rubbed the mild pain away, but she didn't feel like masturbating. She just felt like going a little deeper into the state of near mindlessness in which she'd existed for the past two days.
She couldn't marry Perry. There had to be more to a husband than a sex partner, no matter how good a partner he was. And she couldn't marry Chuck, not now, having discovered the big fat streak of nymphomania that ran through her. And college? That was out too, for she'd never again be able to concentrate on books, not when there were so many better things to do. Her best plan would be to stay with Consolidated, transfer away from this town where everyone knew her, and have herself a ball in one of the big cities where the company had a plant. There she could live it up like that redheaded woman--that company whore.
She grinned as she thought of Helen Peterson making it with Perry the week before in the pilot plant. That very morning, she'd been in the same position with him, swapping tongues the same way, his hard meat just as deep in her cunt. But she'd outdone the voluptuous redhead by making it on a toilet, and then being able to have a final orgasm from peeing on each other. With a sexuality like Laura had, she'd outdo most women. She'd sure have a time for herself when she got her transfer to San Francisco or St. Louis or Detroit. Mr. Markham would put up an argument, but in the end he'd arrange it for her. And Chuck would take it hard, but in the long run, he'd be better off without her.
But don't think about him. He was just another cock. If she had to look to the future, think about herself and all the sweaty good times she'd have rolling in a bed with a vigorous, horny, uninhibited stud like Perry Coleman.
The soap opera was making her melancholy and she went outside to see if her laundry was dry. The dog met her and she squatted naked on the porch to rub his ears, looking around at the quiet rural scene as she did. She'd miss Sulfur City for a while, but she'd outgrown the place. And she'd fit into whatever plant she could get transferred to, for they were all the same, with different faces, different men working in them. The dog touched his nose to her knee and tried to sniff at her exposed crotch, and she shoved him away and went on to the clothesline. Back inside, she mixed herself another drink and tried on various of the lingerie, modeling it before the mirror and trying to decide which to wear for him. She wished he'd hurry, and she hoped he could sneak a nap at work. She settled on the basic black panty-bra set. There was no lace on them, but you could see right through them. The bra was a size too small and made her tits bulge over the top of it, but its tightness felt good, and it would turn Perry on when he got home. Her headache was gone and she had a nice buzz on from the drinks. She put on some records and lay down on the couch to take a little nap while she waited for quitting time at the plant. Dozing off, she thought about her chances of fucking Perry Coleman to death during the rest of her vacation, and that made her smile.
Chapter 9
"Sleeping beauty," He]en said, gazing down at the girl with the raven hair, the ivory skin, the rose-red lips. "She almost makes me wish I was a man."
"She's an awful good-lookin' chick," said Perry. "She ought to make it big in Vegas. And I'll bet I get myself a free one every time I go there."
"Goddamn!" said Bobby, bending to look closer at the girl on the couch. "She's a helluva lot better lookin' than I thought. Let's wake her up and get goin'."
"Let's you keep your meat-hooks off her till I say so," Perry said, and Bobby sullenly straightened up.
"Everybody strip," said Helen. "Bobby, go make a pitcher of drinks with the stuff we bought. Help me undress, Perry?"
He gladly peeled her down to the buff. She was heavier than Laura, but not so tail, and her figure was in the full, ripe blossom of maturity. She teased him with it while he undressed, posing and posturing for him and largely ignoring the young blond giant with the bigger prick. Just as Bobby was more eager for the sleeping Laura, he was hotter for Helen. Laura was damned good, hut he liked his women a little older, more voluptuous, and a lot more experienced.
When the three of them were naked, Helen gave Perry a big, deep kiss and then gathered him and Bobby to her to stand before the couch with her arms about their waists. She nudged Laura's dangling hand twice with her knee before the girl woke up.
When Laura opened her eyes, she went rigid and tried to cover herself, for the sight she beheld was a shock. There was the red-haired woman--Helen Peterson--smiling down at her, her lush figure looking incredibly naked. Perry was on her right, grinning and feeling of her bulbous, big, brown-crested tits, and the other man, younger and much more muscular, was on her left, showing his bone-white teeth in a wide grin as his eyes flicked over her body. Both of them had erections, and these claimed much of Laura's attention, especially the monstrous big tool of the younger guy. It looked just the right size for the company whore.
"How you doin'?" said Perry. "This is Helen and Bobby. They came by to have a little party."
Laura forced herself to relax a little and made a tight-lipped smile. "I don't think I'm in the mood for a party."
"We are," said Helen, smiling brightly at her. "Bobby and I will have our party, and you and Perry can have yours. We'll listen to the same music and drink the same booze, and if we feel like doing the same things, fine. If not, that's okay too. Perry, put on some music. I feel like dancing."
Laura didn't feel like dancing, and she didn't want to get involved in a sex orgy, but when Perry pulled her to her feet, she drank some of the drink he offered her and began to dance with him. She had always enjoyed dancing and she was good at it, but now she danced stiffly, tripping over his feet and unable to find the correct tempo. His prick rubbing against her belly was enough of a distraction, and the presence of the other couple made dancing very difficult. She stumbled through one number and was glad to stop and have a dunk.
Still dancing with Helen. Bobby kept looking at Laura. His looks were frankly lustful as she stood there in the crook of Perry's arm, clad only in panties and bra. But that was a lot more than the woman in Bobby's arms was wearing, and Laura couldn't help but feel a little flattered at the handsome young man's interest in her. Also, she couldn't help but be a little interested in him. He was closer to her own age and handsomer than Perry, and his penis was just huge. It reached almost up to Helen's big tits as they danced, and Laura still didn't see how a woman could take it all. His attention toward her was getting almost embarrassing, and then Helen slipped her arms about his neck and pulled him down into a kiss as they danced. Perry took the drink from Laura's hand and kissed her, and now as she started dancing again, her movements were relaxed and fluid.
She was getting hot, and that was as it should be. She was the reigning beauty, and she'd better enjoy it while she could, before she started getting old and plump like Helen. Not that Helen was really that old or that fat, for in fact she was a beautiful woman, and in the prime of life. But she did pick on younger guys, like Bobby, and she wasn't as young and beautiful as Laura. In a few more years, Laura might be seeking out the company of younger men, but at the moment she was being sought after by both men, and it felt good.
The two couples danced closer together and Helen pressed her moving buttocks against Laura's, giggling as she did, and it felt weird, but it felt good. She pressed closer to Perry and felt a certain kinship for Helen, feeling the same things she was.
"Hey, let's change partners," said Bobby, and Laura instinctively tightened her hold on Perry.
She didn't want to change partners but she was in the minority, and in a few moments she was dancing with the big blond Adonis and feeling another cock pushing against her belly, wanting to get in her. There would be many more of these through the years, once she and Perry were through with each other, and she knew she might as well get used to the idea. Moving against it, with him stroking her back and kissing her ear, she revised her opinion of the size of it and decided it might indeed be possible to get a prick of that size in her.
"Lemme take this off," Bobby said, fumbling with her bra clasp.
"If she wants it off, she'll do it," Perry intervened.
"I wish you'd do a little strip for us," said Helen, and brought Perry over so that the four of them were dancing together.
"Yeah, a strip-tease would be groovy," Perry said, and Bobby whole-heartedly agreed.
"I don't know how to do a strip-tease."
"Every woman does," said Helen. "Try it. It's fun. And if you put on a little show for us, Bobby and I will put one on for you."
The spectacle of the four of them dancing thus should have been enough of a show, but the more Laura thought about stripping for them, the better she liked the idea. She'd truly be the center of attention then, and she was close enough to being naked already so that the loss of her bra and panties wouldn't matter. And the idea of seeing that big prick being shoved into Helen's cunt was most intriguing.
She extricated herself from the circle and danced her way across the room to where her drink was. The music was good, and she kept moving to the throbbing beat of it while she drank. Clapping and calling out words of encouragement, her companions sat down on the couch to watch her, and she finished off the drink and began to dance.
The liquor had made her movements supple and limber, and her sexual excitement had made them most alluring. It didn't take Laura long to know that Helen had been right, that she did know how to dance in a very sexy way. Both men were staring hungrily at her as she moved, and even Helen had a look of desire for her in her eyes as she sat between the men, a hard cock in each of her hands. The scene on the couch added to Laura's excitement as she did the bumps and grinds.
She took her bra off slowly, unfastening it and letting it dangle loosely over her breasts for a while before letting it slip down her arms. She tossed it to her audience and Bobby didn't even see it coming, so intently was he staring at her bouncing. jiggling breasts.
"Jesus, what a set of tits," he muttered, and Laura responded to the coarse compliment by placing her hands on her hips and shaking them at him. She slid her hands up over her body to them and feigned deepest ecstasy as she squeezed them, and it wasn't hard at all to fake it.
Her hands retraced their paths and she started rolling her panties down over her undulating hips. When a fringe of black hair was showing over the waistband, she turned her back on the couch and bent over, and pulling down the seat, she waggled her bare bottom two feet before Perry's face. He said, "Goddamn, I'm gunna fuck you silly in a couple of minutes."
"Not till she sees us do our little show I hope," said Helen. "And not till she finishes her act. Laura, I wish you could see yourself. Perry, why don't you get the camera?"
She didn't want any pictures taken of her like this, but it was too late to stop her dance. Rolling her panties on down, she felt like a beautiful butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Fully naked, she felt completely free, and she danced with wanton abandon while Perry worked the camera. She ended her dance by opening out the sodden lips of her cunt and advancing at the camera until she bumped the lens with her chit.
She bowed and, panting heavily, said, "Your turn, Helen. And Perry, we're not going into the bedroom till we see Helen and Bobby doing it."
"You want to see them fucking?" he asked, laughing and pulling her down on his lap. "Why don't you say it?"
"Bobby, fuck her!" she said. The word came out very easily. "Fuck her good and hard. Fuck hell out of her!"
"I'm not quite ready for that," Helen said with a smile. "I want to groove on my baby's big cock first."
Laura was more than a little taken aback when Helen bent over Bobby's blond lap and kissed the ripely swollen head of his prick, and she was amazed when she slid her lips down over it and took it in her mouth. The redhead bobbed slowly up and down and murmurs of contentment issued from Helen's throat. As Perry started deeply massaging her tingling breasts, Laura saw that Helen was actually enjoying it. Of course Bobby was too, but he wasn't shooting right away, as Laura had thought a man did when having his cock sucked. He was smiling and sighing and caressing her, and she seemed to be enjoying it more and more.
"You about ready to do that for me?" Perry asked.
"Never," she said. "Give me the camera. I want a picture of this."
She took several, getting up from Perry's lap for different angles from which to sight in on the wickedly beautiful mouth moving on the big, hard cock. Then Perry moved closer to Helen and began caressing her. He reached under her to play with her tits and he stroked her back and kissed it. He got his hand between her legs and she opened them wide, giving Laura a fantastically dirty picture of them on the couch. Helen stopped sucking Bobby's prick and sat up and kissed Perry, and Laura couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. All this time he'd been saying he loved her, and there he was, kissing another woman, and minding not at all that her mouth had just come from another man's cock.
Helen groped behind her and got a handful of Bobby's blond curls, and with these she guided him down to the floor and over to where his mouth was just in front of Perry's moving hand. There, Bobby pushed the hand away and began loudly lapping Helen's cunt. She kept on kissing Perry for a long time before she stopped.
"if Laura wouldn't mind," she said to him, fondling his cock, "I'd sure like to give you what she doesn't. I'd sure like to suck that pretty cock."
Before he could answer, Laura said, "Hey, Bobby. I thought you were going to fuck her for me. She's ready now."
"Yeah!" he said, getting up to his knees and waddling forward with his cock in his hand.
No woman could think about sucking a cock with a thing like that going in her, and Helen was only able to kiss Perry's prick briefly before she straightened up and helped with the insertion. She hooked her heels on the edge of the couch, spreading her legs wide, and Laura found out she was out of film to capture this wonderfully obscene view. But she saw it go in, every bit of it, and she shared in Helen's passionate moanings.
"Oh my God, is that ever good! Bobby, stick it all in. Fuck mamma good, baby! Perry, stand up and let me suck you some more!"
"I think it's about time we went into the bedroom," Laura said, and laughing, she took his hand and pulled him along. There she lay down on the creaky bed and opened herself out all the way. "And you fuck me good, Perry," she said. "Eat me and fuck me and do anything you want with me."
He got up on the bed and came to her on his knees, his prick in his hand. It loomed large over her face as he said, "You ready now to kiss it a little?"
She stared for a moment at that slowly oozing single eye and shook her head. "Not yet. Maybe never. Just fuck me now. Please."
He shook his head in disgust, then climbed over her body, astraddle her waist. He inched forward, squeezing her breasts, and she asked him what he was going to do.
"Fuck you between the tits for a start. You'll dig it."
They were already very sensitized by his hands, and his prick seemed to burn her like a hot iron as he laid it down on her chest and closed them on it. As he worked it back and forth, it felt almost as good as if he'd been fucking her cunt, and she reached down and made it feel better by fingering herself. She even liked the feeling of his balls dragging over her belly as he fucked her tits. She watched each emergence of the florid head from the milky flesh, and it was beautiful. He kept it up till she was coming, and then he stopped.
Laura felt his balls against her prick-heated tits and smelled his male odor as his prick touched her lips. She couldn't see it though, with her eyes shut tight as she rolled and rocked with her orgasm. Lost in a frenzy of lust, she grabbed it and sucked it in her mouth before he could have the pleasure of forcing it on her.
And it was so good. Right away she knew she'd always love to suck his cock, and that perhaps there was a real love between them after all. If they could meet so fully on the sexual front, a fuller relationship might follow. But she couldn't think about that then. She could only enjoy the feeling of his hard, hot cock sliding in and out of her mouth and wonder if his cum would taste good too.
Then Bobby started licking her cunt. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him, and it was wonderful. He was wonderful for having left Helen for her, and for knowing exactly what was missing to complete her joy. She'd let him fuck her--she'd have to--and she'd be able to take all of his big cock with ease. She caressed his head, and opening her eyes, saw his cock pointing down at her face.
It was unmistakably his, and since the one in her mouth was unmistakably Perry's, that had to be Helen going down on her. The thought of Lesbianism thrilled her as much as Helen's tonguings, and Laura soared to another peak. In her ecstasy she grabbed Bobby's prick and pulled it down, spat out Perry's cock and started sucking the bigger one. She stopped long enough to say, "Perry, fuck me now! Please! And then von. Bobby. I want you both."
"Don't von want me too?" Helen asked. and stopped her thrilling cunnilingus to get up on the bed with them. "Now that you've learned what fun sucking cocks is. I think von should learn about pussy as well. And while you're learning, and because I like yon. I'm going to let both boys fuck you at once."
"It'd split me!" Laura said, closing her legs.
"Not both in your cunt, honey," Helen explained.
Perry lay on his hack on the bed, and Laura, too impassioned to resist, allowed herself to he sat upon his loins, facing his feet, with his cock in her anus. His buttocks were at the edge of the bed, and by spreading his legs, it allowed Bobby to come to her on the floor on his knees and reach her cant with his cock. He pushed and she tried to help, for she was coming very hard then and needing more, much more. He pushed her down on top of Perry, and then he got it in. Bobby did all the work and both Laura and Perry reaped much of the rewards. Laura, filled to bursting with cock, panted, "Fuck me! Oh, flick me! I love it!"
Helen stepped over her head and opened out her richly enflamed and dripping cunt. Laura, rolling her head back and forth, watched it slowly descend on her as the big woman squatted down. Helen murmured, "Fuck me too, honey! Fuck me with your tongue."
The taste was rank and foul, sweet and beautiful, and Laura lapped and sucked the luscious cunt hard, and got her hands up on the big tits over her head. Still coming, she felt Perry jerk and heave under her, and the sloshing in her cunt grew louder still as Bobby squirted his cum in her. She went on sucking Helen as long as she could, until her orgasm grew to such dimensions that it overpowered her and she lost all her coordination. Her insides seemed to be draining out when the two cocks were withdrawn from her, and she felt very lonely. Before she could start to cry, they were pulling her up off the bed and taking her in the living room for a reviving drink.
Chapter 10
Laura was awakened by Perry's struggles to extricate himself from the tangle of bodies on his bed. "Where are you going?"
"To work," he said. "It's five after seven.
"Call in sick," said Helen. She looked very sexy in her sleepiness.
"I can't. As part of my parole, I've gotta have a good attendance record at work," he said, now out of bed, and looking wistfully back at the naked trio in it.
Bobby, an arm about each of the women, said, "Wild horses couldn't drag me to work today. I'm just gonna call Transportation and tell them I'm not going in."
"Transportation," Perry sneered. "All you are is a lousy forklift operator."
"So, what's wrong with that? It takes more brains to drive a forklift than it does to read a bunch of goddamn meters like you do."
"The only brains you've got are in your ass, Barker."
"At least I'm smart enough to stay here with a couple of naked broads--that's more than I can say for you."
"For Christ' sake," Helen interrupted. "You two sound like a couple of eight-year-olds. If you have to go to work, Perry, then go on. We can make do with Bobby, and if he wears out, Laura and I can make do by ourselves. Right, Laura?"
The redheaded woman tangled her fingers in Laura's black hair and pulled her into a kiss. Their lips met over Bobby's broad chest, their mouths opened together, and their nimble tongues became intimate acquaintances. During their hours-long orgy of the night before, they'd kissed each other's tits and cunts when at the heights of passion, but this was the first time they'd kissed like this. Lesbianism still seemed like the wickedest part of the vast sexual excitements Laura had been introduced to, and it seemed especially wicked to be kissing her woman friend like this, with the boys watching, and without the excuse of orgasmic frenzy to hide behind. She hoped the torrid homosexual kiss was not a prelude to a Lesbian love affair, although at the moment that prospect wasn't wholly unattractive. At least Helen had a mind, which was more than Laura could say for Perry or Bobby, and furthermore, she was a person who could keep up with Laura when it came to sexual endurance.
"What a gal you turned out to he," Helen murmured as they came apart. "You're as sexy as you are beautiful. You could go a long way, Laura. And right now, I could go in and make us a pitcher of Bloody Mary's. Excuse me, kiddies."
Laura had Bobby's cock in her mouth before Helen was out of bed. She was sucking its satiny head with languid pleasure as she watched the big, white buttocks jiggle and undulate out of the room. The cock felt very good in her mouth, the male taste exhilarating and exciting. Her enjoyment of this proved she wasn't a real queer, even though she liked Helen a lot. She was a woman who'd been around a lot and who knew how to live, and as long as their friendship didn't become emotional, it would be a good one. Laura didn't want an emotional affair with anyone, male or female, for a while. Now that she'd discovered the pleasures of the flesh, she meant to enjoy them fully until she was really ready to settle down, and the way she now felt, that might not be for a long time.
She slid her lips up to kiss the end of that lovely big prick and said, "Hey. stud. How about returning the favor?"
"Huh? Sure," said Bobby. and helped to get her leg over him.
His tongue felt good in her cunt, and he didn't seem to be minding at all that it was crusted with the residues of both himself and Perry. Laura settled down to give him an equally good sucking, brushing her crested nipples on his belly as she did. With one hand she held his stout shaft, and with the other she played with his halls. They were soft and warm in their gold-fringed sac, beautiful to see and to touch. Best of all they were big, with plenty of good cum juice in them. She'd gotten a taste of cum the night before, from going down on the boys and on Helen, but it had always been tainted by the taste of cunt. Now she wanted to taste it straight from the source, and she sucked with all the ardor of her new-found sexual experience, wanting him to shoot in her mouth as badly as she wanted her first orgasm of the day.
"Honey, sit up a minute and take this."
It was Helen's voice, and Helen's hand that helped her to sit up. Bobby held her hips and kept on eating her while she dutifully took the pill Helen had brought for her and washed it down with the drink. Setting the glass aside, Helen kissed her full on the mouth again, feeling her tits as she did. Perry was watching from the bathroom door as he dressed, and Laura got a big kick out of responding very passionately to the wanton woman. She ended the hot kiss, and with one man eating her and the other watching her, she fell on Helen's big fat tits with her mouth, and hoped that the watching man could see the genuine excitement she felt and know that he wasn't the only one who could turn her on. She returned to sucking Bobby off, and Perry stamped out of the bedroom.
Helen began playing with her and talking to her, running her soft hands over Laura's back and buttocks as she said. "You know there aren't many gals who are both beautiful and oversexed. Having been around like I've been, I've seen more than my share, but still there aren't too many around. Gals like you can really go places if they're smart and have the right connections. And I don't mean going places at Consolidated. Does that feel nice, honey?"
Helen had wet her finger and worked it into Laura's asshole, and the girl nodded her head, although Helen already knew how nice it felt. That was one more fascinating thing about Helen, her foreknowledge of what was pleasing to Laura, and the pleasure she got in having Laura admit that she dug it all.
"Later today you and I ought to have a talk, Laura. With a little help from me, you could really have yourself a ball for the next five years or so. But that's for later, when we've fucked baby Bobby dry. Right now, how would you like that big cock of his in your pretty little cunt?"
"That's just what I want," Laura panted. "And I want to kiss your pretty little cunt while he's doing it."
"Oh, let him do that now, while he still can." She had Bobby lie where he was and helped Laura turn around on him and sit down on his cock. It went in with highly pleasurable difficulty and then it moved well in her as she worked her hips over him. Helen squatted down over his head, facing Laura, so that the two lusty women could play with each other's tits and egg each other on to orgasm while he sucked one and fucked the other. Laura felt as hot and beautiful as Helen looked.
"Yeah, I could see you with a really swinging apartment," Helen said, "and a really good wardrobe. I can see you traveling by jet and by Cadillac instead of humping around Sulfur City in your bug."
"I'm going to transfer. Maybe to the San Francisco plant. Gimme kiss?"
Laura felt the soft lips on hers fully, but only briefly, and then the two women were settled back and grinning at each other while they used the man below them.
"We'll miss you when you go," said Helen. "And San Francisco's a good place to go, but not with Consolidated. This company's okay for a gal my age, but not for you. I've got something better in mind for you. But later for that. Now I'm gonna come. Are you gonna help me make it a big one?"
"You bet I am. And you're gonna help me, too?"
They leered at each other and twisted each other's tits. Each one gazed lovingly down at the other's bush, one working rhythmically over Bobby's mouth, the other over his loins. They came forward and their nipples kissed as they swayed their shoulders. Their tongues met and tangled, and then they threw their arms about each other and kissed very hard, sharing in the orgasm that racked them with two-fold pleasure.
Bobby couldn't get up when they did. He lay there limp and panting, saying, "Jesus! I couldn't breathe there at the end. Hey, gimme a drink."
It was given to him and he flopped back on the bed, saying he was going to have to take a nap if they expected him to keep going all day. Laura and Helen went in and took a shower together, then shared in the cooking of a breakfast. They ate it at lie kitchen table, and after it, over a drink, it didn't seem strange at all to ht sitting naked with another woman, sexually sated for the time being, and looking forward to a day of fornication.
Remember what I was saying in bed, Laura?"
Laura smiled. "I wasn't listening too hard at the time. My mind was elsewhere.''
"It's good to use sex to get outside your mind at times, but a girl's got to be smart about it, too. I've been fairly smart about it. If you take my advice, honey, you'll be even smarter."
"Fuck my way up through the ranks? I've thought about that," Laura said, and took another drink.
"That's one way, but it's a drag. It's okay for a woman my age, thirty years old, with some money in the bank, and past the point of falling for some poor, hard-working slob. But it's not for you, Laura--at least not yet."
"But I love working for Consolidated, and as I've been shown, there's fun to be had there too."
"There's fun to be had every place, and some of it's better than others. You're a smart girl, Laura, but you're not experienced. You know what's going to happen to you if you stay on at Consolidated? One of two things. You're either going to get caught fucking your way up to a good job or you're going to fall in love with some jerk and marry him. In the first place, you'll have such a lousy reputation that you'll either have to quit or let every janitor in the place fuck you, and in the second place you'll wind up with a bunch of kids and a mortgage that you'll never pay off."
Laura shrugged and smiled, and said, "Go back to the first place. That sounds pretty good. How many janitors work there?"
Helen took her hand. "Be serious for a minute. Right now, just having been turned on to sex, you feel like, you could screw every guy in the world. Maybe you can, but you'd be burned out in a year, with nothing to show for it. The thing to do is be smart about who you fuck--like I've been. You can always get it on with some big dumb animal like Bobby, or Perry, but don't forget that little, smart, rich guys like to fuck too, and most of them are pretty damned good at it."
Laura leaned back in her chair and regarded Helen seriously. "I could never do it for money."
"Why not? I did."
"You were a . . a call girl?"
"Honey. I was a prostitute. Prostitution is legal in Las Vegas, and I worked at the trade for five years, starting from the time I was twenty. They were five good years. I met a lot of good people, I made a lot of money, 1 got experience you can't get any other place, and best of all, I had a ball."
"You're kidding me," said Laura. "You're putting me on."
Helen shook her head. "I am not. I've been to bed with hundreds of guys. I've been in sex shows, and that includes the kind with animals. I learned how to get the very most pleasure out of sex and I averaged three hundred dollars a week doing it, and honey, I don't regret one minute of it."
"Did you say . . . animals?" Laura softly asked.
"Eight dogs, three monkeys, and a burro. And some of them were more interesting than our friend snoring away in the bedroom."
"Oh, I don't believe you at all." Laura laughed nervously and then stopped short. Frowning, she said, "Did you really do things with animals?"
"They all had pricks and they all had tongues. Hell, I've known gals who'd rather make it with an animal than with a man."
A shiver rippled through Laura and she said, "I could never get like that."
"Don't knock it till you've tried it. And that's the beauty of being completely liberated when it comes to sex. Then you can try everything, with no qualms and decide for yourself what you like best."
"But with a dog . . ."
"Stand up," said Helen. turning in her chair.
Laura did, and allowed herself to be drawn to the woman and bent down for a long, tonguing kiss. Helen used her fingers well in Laura's cunt as they kissed. When Helen drew the girl lower, Laura willingly kissed her breasts, and it took only a suggestion to get her on her knees, licking the woman's cunt.
Helen stopped her after only a few moments of it, kissed her warmly, and said, "Laura, a few days ago did you think you could ever do that?"
"No," she said, smiling. "I've changed a lot."
"And you'll change a lot more, if you're as smart as you think you are."
"But I could never change so much I could do it with an animal."
"Give it some more thought. Finish your drink and come with me."
Laura was led out onto the front porch. It had rained again during the night, and the whole world seemed fresh and new. Czar nuzzled warmly and briefly at her hand before pointing his black muzzle at Helen's loins. The woman patted his head, and as Laura watched with morbid fascination, the dog began clumsily licking her hairy crotch.
"D'you believe me now?" Helen asked.
Laura nodded, staring, the weirdest sort of feelings running through her.
While the dog licked on, Helen drew Laura's hip against hers, and caressing her bare bottom, said, "Have you ever thought about making it with an animal before now? Tell me the truth, honey and trust me that it won't go any farther than me."
Helen would have to keep the secret, for just look what a fantastic secret Laura knew about her! The girl nodded again.
"What animal was it, Laura?"
Still looking at the dog's swiping tongue, and seeing herself squatted down before him on the couch the previous day, she said. "Him. Czar."
"Then try it. Now. You might dig it. I know he would. Look."
She had the girl kneel down with her, and with no compunction, she reached under the dog and cupped his balls in her hand. His penis was sticking out of its hairy black sheath, slim and tapered and angry-red. When she drew back the sheath, Laura gasped and the dog whined as much more of his penis emerged.
Still fondling Laura's ass, and sending more and more warm chills coursing through her, Helen softly said, "Sit down and let him lick you. Don't think about it any more, just do it. Go on, honey. I'll keep him happy here."
Laura was in a daze. It was as if it was some other girl that was sitting hack on her haunches and spreading her knees with her hands. It couldn't be her, for she didn't want this to be happening to her, even though her friend--this woman who understood her so completely--did want it. The dog wanted it too. His pointed snout came forward like a sinister torpedo, and at the first sweeping contact of his tongue. Laura knew she was going to let him do it until she came, right there on the broken-down old front porch. She looked at Helen in wonder, and the big redhead winked and leered at her.
"Having fun?"
"Uh-huh." His tongue was three times as long as a man's, and he could use it three times as fast.
"You'd have a lot in more fun working in Vegas. I could arrange it. If I sent them a picture of you like this, they'd send a private plane for you and meet you with a red carpet. I'm going to go get the camera."
"No!" said Laura. "Don't leave me alone with it... with him. And I couldn't stand a picture of... of this."
"Does it really feel good, honey?"
"Yes," she said, and her voice was a whine. "I can 't help it. It does fee] good."
"You ought to feel his prick. It's really hard and long. You ought to feel what it's like to have a dog fuck you."
"No. I couldn't do that," said Laura, in real anguish now, thinking about the fierceness of the brute's red prick, and feeling the long warmth of his pink tongue.
Helen chuckled and said, "Sure you could. Don't go way now. I'll be right back."
"Wait!" Laura called out, but Helen was already on her feet and going into the house, and the dog was already upon her.
The moment Helen had released his prick, he had surged forward, and now the mouth that had been between Laura's legs was huffing a foul mixture of cunt-smell and dog-breath at her face, while between her legs she could feel his prick, hot and pointed and terrifying. She twisted and pushed at him and cried out to Helen for help, and the dog growled very menacingly at her ear. His paws were wrapped around her, scratching her, and he was already humping blindly at her, although his prick hadn't yet found its mark. She screamed for help and the dog drowned her out with his barkings, and then his prick was in her, stabbing her like a hot iron, and it felt good.
Drunk and hot, she angled her hips up to let it feel even better, and it did. His thrustings were so lightning fast that she was robbed of all desire to resist. She put her legs around his shaggy body and humped madly back at him, but she couldn't bring herself to put her arms about him. Without let-up, he screwed her until she was seeing stars, and the orgasm that came to her was as crude and primitive as the worn wooden floor on which she writhed. Only when the dog had pulled out of her and was trying to lick her cunt again was she struck by the awful shame of what she'd done, and she kicked him away and sat up with her knees hugged against her breasts.
Behind her, Helen's smirking voice said, "Well, Bobby, what do you think of pretty little Laura now?"
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it."
Laura turned and looked at them scornfully. Helen had the Polaroid camera in her hand, and Laura felt sure it had been loaded with film again and used. Rising unassisted, she smirked back at Helen and said. "Czar wasn't bad. He could teach yon a few tricks, Bobby. Get some good pictures, Helen'?"
"Hey. you're not mad about a few more pictures~ are you? Say the word, honey, and I'll tear them up."
"I might have enlargements made. Where's my drink? Does anybody mind if I don't take a shower before we all go hack to bed?"
Bobby looked a little ill, hut Helen only laughed and put her arm around Laura's shoulders. "You know, I could get to like you. Come on. I'll build you a fresh drink and then we'll take a shower together. I know some shower games, too. Coming, Bobby? And this afternoon, when Bobby's all crapped out. I'm going to take you into town and get you some of the kind of clothes you should be wearing instead of those frumpy outfits I've seen you in at work."
"Clothes like they wear in Vegas?" Laura asked with a smile.
"You've got it," Helen said, and they laughed together as Bobby followed along behind them.
For his benefit, Laura said, "While we're shopping, maybe we can pick up a guy with a little more endurance."
"Nothing like making it with a new guy ... or gal."
"There's nothing like just making it," Laura said.
Chapter 11
That night, Laura sat alone in her apartment, making out a list. Her hair was rolled in curlers and she was wearing one of the three nighties she'd bought that afternoon in the shopping spree with Helen. The nightie and matching panties were dark blue, trimmed with black. The neckline was very low and the hemline was at her hips, hut it was so sheer that its revealing cut was largely redundant. Frivolous and impractical as it had first appeared to be. Helen had assured her that the expensive little outfit was a wise investment, as were the other clothes she'd bought that day. Helen had insisted on paying for everything they'd selected for Laura s new wardrobe and had assured the girl there was no need to pay her back. Still, Laura intended to either repay her or reciprocate in some other manner once she'd made up her mind about her future.
She wrote slowly. pensively, and stopped frequently to take a sip of the liquor they'd bought. She didn't much like the stuff, but like her new clothes and her new sex life, it would be something she'd acquire a taste for, so Helen had told her. Helen had certainly been right about her acquiring a taste for sex, and already the skimpy little nightie was feeling nice and comfortable on her, but she rather doubted she'd ever learn to enjoy the bite of straight liquor.
The shopping trip had been fun, and what had preceded it had been fun, too, but now it was good to be alone. Bobby had lasted until about one o'clock that afternoon, at which time they'd left him sleeping on the floor and had driven to Laura's apartment to get something for her to wear while shopping. Since the clothes she'd been wearing on her arrival at Perry's place had all been destroyed, they'd had to come up with a make-shift outfit for the drive across town, and it had been very titillating to drive through the familiar old streets and walk up her apartment stairs with a brightly colored table cloth artfully draped over her and nothing else. Helen had laughed at her frumpy wardrobe and had insisted on shortening the hem of her skirt and depriving her of her brassiere before they went to the stores. Like schoolgirls playing hooky, they'd had to be on the alert for Consolidated employees who might spot them, and that had added to the fun of the afternoon. It had made their friendship a little more binding, as had the talks they'd enjoyed.
Laura still hadn't made up her mind about her future, but she tended to go along with Helen's advice. The older, wiser woman's counseling seemed sound, but it was hard to get used to the idea of being a prostitute, even though all women were prostitutes, in one way or another. It would be something she'd have to sleep on, for she was very tired and a little sick from all the drinking she'd done over the past few days. She finished the little list and read it over before she got up from the desk.
1.
Perry Coleman
2.
Bobby Barker
3.
Helen Peterson
4.
Czar
5.
She thought about listing the things she liked to do as well as the list of the people she'd done them with, but that would be as complicated as some of the things she'd done. She went back and crossed Czar's name off the list, knowing there'd be a person to take his place soon and knowing she shouldn't be too eager to extend the list right away.
Of course, she could have had several more names on it already, for she and Helen had attracted a lot of attention that afternoon. Helen had demonstrated various ways--both subtle and brazen--of attracting admirers. She'd also showed her skill in rebuffing them at the last minute, and the exercise in being a temptress had been both confidence-building and fun.
In bed, she found it hard to sleep. She was disturbed by the visions of tangled bodies and bare flesh that kept running through her brain, and with the projected vision of an endless line of men, faceless but grinning, that stretched before her. She had to sleep, and at length she slipped her hand inside the wispy panties and began masturbating. She'd had a lot of sex in the past few days, more than she'd thought she might ever have in her life, and logically, the masturbation wouldn't do her any good. She learned again, however, that her appetite for sex was not like her appetite for food, and that the more she'd had, the more she wanted. She thrashed and moaned more than ever before in her solitary bed, and when it was over, she was relaxed and sleepy. Just before she dozed off, she began to cry, and even after she was asleep her body went on twitching with sobs for a while.
In the morning she brooded over a cup of coffee at the window. Her habit had awakened her at the usual time, and in the distance she could see the plant. The First Shift would be finishing up their morning's work and the Second Shift would be getting ready to take over. Wives were now preparing lunches; the men in Production were now shaving; executives were tying their ties, and secretaries were primping. And Chuck would be sleeping late at the hotel in preparation for another long day at the convention--there had been two letters from him in her mailbox on her return, and these were now in the trash, unopened. Still staring at the distant plant, she decided to go in to work that day, and having made at least one decision, she felt better. She got up to leisurely bathe and dress, intending to take her time about it, for it wouldn't do to get to work on time when she was on her vacation.
Although it was the most conservative of the three outfits they'd bought the day before, the dress Laura put on looked more suited for a Hollywood party than for a Sulfur City workday. It was dark blue with large white polka-dots. Its hem came to mid-thigh and its white-sashed waist was right up under her tits. She wore red bikini panties under it, knee-length black boots, and nothing else, for she'd shaved her legs very closely in the tub and their smoothness needed no stockings, and with tits like hers and a neckline like that, she certainly didn't need a bra. With her hair brushed out and softly waved, she had the appearance of a little girl with a big figure in that dress, but then again, the boots and the make-up and her practiced smile made her look like what she was, a woman who recognized her sexuality and wasn't afraid to show it off. Although she didn't intend to be at work for long, she'd turn some heads. She had decided to go in just long enough to check with Personnel and see if there was an immediate opening for her at the San Francisco plant. If there was, she'd take it and transfer to the coast without Mr. Markham's help and, hopefully, without even seeing him or Chuck again. If there was no opening she'd resign and become a whore. Helen had said the thing to do was to go to Las Vegas, meet the people who ran the business, and make up her mind then. Now that seemed like putting off the inevitable, and if she couldn't satisfactorily transfer within the company, she'd just pick up and go, for whoring was whoring, no matter how pleasant were a girl's associates.
Walking down the hall at work, she did turn heads and it did feel good, but she didn't create any minor riots and that was a relief. Men she didn't know at all smiled at her, some that she knew gaped at her, and others of her acquaintance didn't even recognize her. She strutted nonchalantly past them all, nipples chafing pleasantly against the soft bodice of her little dress, loins feeling as warm as the red material that covered them.
She phoned Personnel from her desk and was told that a check would be made on San Francisco openings and that her call would be returned. There was nothing to do but wait then, for she wasn't about to do any work on her vacation. She wandered about the office, trying not to let the pangs of nostalgia creep in on her. There were too many things there to jog her memory, though, and at last she returned to her desk, irritated at the inefficiency of Personnel, and began collating data. She'd been at it for twenty minutes when Stanley Phipps came in.
He entered whistling, with the mail bag slung over his shoulder, looking very young. His whistle ended in a gasp and he dropped several inter-office memos when he saw her smiling at him from her desk.
"What're you...? I thought you were on vacation. I... Gee, it's good to see you, Laura. Wow. I mean... it's good to see you at work. You sure look... nice today."
"New dress," she said, and stood up, moving away from her desk, and held the full skirt out at her sides. That drew the hem up so that almost all of her well-shaped legs could be seen. The boy tried unsuccessfully not to gape, and his obvious huge fascination was very pleasing to Laura. She said, "And a new hair-do and some make-up instead of those glasses. What do you think of the new me?"
"I... I like it, I guess."
She took a step forward. "You guess? Aren't you sure?"
"Well, sure. I mean, gosh, you're just... wow..."
"You seem to be having some trouble communicating today, Stanley," she said with a smile. "Just like you're having trouble handling the mail. Maybe this isn't one of your days."
He blushed and stooped to retrieve the fallen papers, and Laura went closer. A yard from him she bent at the waist and addressed the top of his head. "Can I help you?"
He looked up and his rosy cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. His eyes were very wide as he shook his head, and they got wider still as she straightened up and he got a worm's eye view of her legs. When she patted back her hair, she was almost sure the movement of her arm lifted her skirt enough for him to glimpse her red panties. She turned her back on him, sauntered the few steps to her desk, and bent over it to pick up her purse. He was still crouching motionless on the floor, papers in hand, staring at her as she sat one buttock on the edge of her desk and inspected her make-up in a mirror. Laura could hear the sound of his breathing.
"I'm thinking of leaving Sulfur City," she said.
"Aw. no," he moaned, rising, shambling forward.
"It's too dull here. There's not enough action. If I go, will you miss me, Stanley?"
"I sure will. Gosh, you shouldn't go. There's lots of action here."
She regarded him with a superior smile and said, "And what do you know about the action in Sulfur City?"
"Oh, I get around," he said, and dropped another memo.
She touched it with the toe of her boot and said, "Better pick that up, Stanley. It might be important."
He crouched slowly, as if sinking into quicksand, and he kept his eyes on hers until his knee touched the ground, at which point his gaze darted to her tits and then to her loins for an instant. Opening her legs so that she was sure he could see her red crotch, she said, "I think you do like the new me. Do you? Take a good look before you answer."
He looked her over well--as well as a nineteen-year-old kid can--developing a slow grin on his smooth face as he did. And he nodded and said, "Yeah. I always did like you, but now... boy-oh-boy, you're really something!"
"And you're a very sweet boy," she said, reaching down to tousle his hair. The way he held the mail bag against his lap, she knew he had an erection, and she felt a similar stirring within her own body. She wanted him as an addition to her list--conquered all by herself in the privacy of her apartment. The trouble was she'd already gone too far with her heavy-handed flirtation, and now it was up to him to make the advances, something he was too awe-struck to do, apparently. He could only gape at her and bashfully grin. "Do you have a girl friend, Stanley?"
"Huh-uh. I... well... " He shook his head.
"What do you do for fun at night?"
"I dunno." He swallowed hard. "Different things."
"Don't you get lonely at times?"
"I guess so. Sometimes." He nervously wet his lips.
"A handsome boy like you, I'm surprised you don't have a steady girl."
"I'm not... very good with girls," he confessed.
"Why? Don't you like girls?"
"Sure, but... I'm just not very good with 'em. I don't know."
He must have been very uncomfortable, crouching there, vainly trying to conceal his excitement, dying to look directly up Laura's skirt. She was getting excited too, though he hadn't laid a hand on her, and a part of his excitement was due to his discomfort. It was fun to make him suffer a little and she got a kick out of knowing how much more experienced she was than he. His blush had spread to his ears, and now she wanted to see how much more she could embarrass him.
She said, "Do you mean to tell me you don't know how to make love to a woman? Are you saying you're a virgin?"
The first question made him clamp his lips together and the second made him lower his head and stare at her feet. She bent further and took him by the chin to lift his head, and when she repeated the second question she thought for a moment he was going to cry.
"I can't help it," he said. "I just haven't done it. I just wanted to wait till I got married. I better go."
"You'd better stay," she said as he started to painfully rise, her voice a warm caress. "You'd better stay if you ever expect to become a man."
She hadn't expected to be so blunt about it, but she was new at this flirtation game herself, and the heat of her excitement was such that she couldn't let him go stumbling off then. And now, seeing how her proposition was making him pant and grin and blush all the more, she took a perverse delight in her bold aggressiveness.
"Right here?" he squeaked, looking around the office.
"Right here," she said, slipping off the desk and drawing up her skirt to give him a close-up view of the red bulge that emanated her heat six inches from his face. She touched herself there with her fingers and used the nasty word that she so enjoyed. "Want to fuck me, Stanley?"
"Yeah. But I don't know how." His voice was an octave lower. "But I could learn!"
"The first thing you do is take off my panties." She stood holding her skirt up, swaying closer, until he'd hastily set aside his mail bag and was eagerly reaching for them, and then she added, "With your teeth."
"Huh?"
"If you expect to fuck me, little man, you're going to do it my way. All my way. Is that understood?"
She could feel his breath hot on the plumpest part of her thighs as he nodded, staring straight ahead of him.
"Put your hands behind your back and begin," she said.
He glanced back at the door and took a nibble of the elastic waistband. His breath was very moist and his lips tickled sweetly. As he began working it down, she said, "You know if someone comes in you'll be fired." He nodded, pulling the panties down farther in front. Still holding her skirt up, she slowly turned until the hot breath and the nibbling mouth were working at the tautest part of her panties and the second warmest spot on her body. "D'you like that?" she asked, bumping him in the face, and he again nodded.
She turned to face him again and swayed her hips from side to side in order to rub his nose in her pubic hair as he diligently and eagerly worked the panties down. She kept up her smirking remarks and alternated them with hints of impending delights as he groveled lower to get the clinging nylon wisp down her legs.
"I'm amazed at you still being a virgin. Once you've been broken in properly, though, you'll probably be sniffing after every girl in town... and I'm going to break you in properly; you're going to learn a lot in the next few minutes. Or maybe you're more concerned about getting the mail delivered. Clumsy! Can't you get them over my boot tops? Do you think my new boots are sexy? You do? Kiss them, Stanley. Kiss them if you expect to get any farther with me."
His kissing her boots was almost as much of a kick as his kissing her legs as she directed him to retrace the path he'd made with his nibbling lips. She took him by the hair to grind his mouth briefly against her cunt, but he didn't use his tongue because she didn't tell him to, and she didn't tell him to because she was too eager for his cock by then.
When she let him get to his feet he tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away and crouched down to work at his fly. It wasn't a big bulge in his pants, but it was so hard and so close that her hands were shaking as much as his body was. She was taken aback for a moment when she got it out, for little could be seen of its rosy head, which was housed in a protective sheath of very soft skin. She realized she was seeing her first uncircumcised prick, and she was very much aware of her lightly sheathed clitoris as she drew back the foreskin, making him shudder and groan. Then she took it smoothly into her mouth, and it was absolutely delicious, and it was so thrilling to hear his little whimpers of delight that she increased her suction until they'd changed to whimpers of pain.
Laura was dizzy with lust when she stood up to be fucked. There was no better place than her desk, and papers and nameplate were dumped on the floor as she got up on it, her ass on its edge, her body and his wet cock ready to pounce on her. He hung back, though, until she'd opened out her cuntlips and said, "Come on, damn it. Fuck me! Stick it in!"
Grinning like an ape, he came forward and probed at her ripe, easy target, and still it was she who had to make the insertion. The lout simply didn't know what to do, not until he was in her, and then he began humping so rapidly that Laura's senses were sent soaring. He lasted perhaps thirty seconds, not nearly long enough, not even until the fit between them was perfect, and then he was whimpering and moaning and prematurely shooting in her even though she told him, "Wait! Slow down, damn you! Hold it back, Stanley!"
"I just couldn't," he sighed. "You felt so good and I... I'm so much in love with you."
"Don't be an ass," she said, anger replacing her lust as she roughly pushed him away from her overflowing but unsatisfied cunt. "You don't know a damned thing about love, and you know even less about making a woman happy."
"I'm sorry. I tried," he lamented.
"Try some more. Get down there and eat me. Suck my cunt like I sucked your prick, or, so help me, you'll never see me again!"
She had no intention of ever seeing him again, for he was a child and she was a woman, despite the fact that he was older than she. But the game of man and woman consisted of threats and coercion and trickery, and it was high time she used some of those devices to get what she wanted. She got him to use his tongue with another threat, and he wasn't too bad at licking her cunt then. She further enjoyed watching him lick her honey-drooling slit, and knowing that he was doing it all for her, at the lowest ebb of his sexual desire. She felt she might reach an orgasm when the telephone rang, and she held his head in place while she answered it.
"I'm sorry, Miss Dandridge," said the voice at the other end. "We've just communicated with the San Francisco plant via teletype, and Personnel says there are no openings there at the present time. We'll let you know when something opens up there, though."
"Never mind," said Laura and hung up, her decision made.
She'd be a well-paid, well-fucked prostitute, and she wouldn't need fumbling boys like this one. Having lost any desire for him, she pushed him away and he looked up at her hurt, his jaw slack and wet.
"Get out of here," she said. "Go try a high school girl."
"Laura, I'm sorry. Please let me try some more."
"Out," she said. "Now."
She turned her back on him to telephone Helen, confident he was too cowed to even touch her again. Sure enough, she heard him slink out the door as she spoke with her mentor.
"I'm quitting, Helen, as of today."
"Wonderful, dear! You'll never be sorry.
"I know. And now that I've made up my mind, I can hardly wait to go."
"I wish I could take you to lunch to celebrate, but I've got to stay here and wait for a long distance call. Isn't that a drag? Maybe we can have a little party tonight."
"You're alone in the office? Maybe we can have a little party now."
There was a pause, and Helen said, "Maybe we can. I always enjoy having a little fun on company time. Come on up, dear. I'll be waiting for you."
Stanley had taken her panties. With the full heat of desire having returned, she made a frantic search before reaching that conclusion, and stamped her boot in rage at his impertinence. But she didn't really need panties. Short as her skirt was, it covered her loins, and she had to get to Helen--and the satisfaction she so badly needed. She tugged down her dress, patted her hair back, and left the office.
The early lunch crowd was already in the hall. There were quite a few of them, and Laura had a bad moment or two as she thought of them seeing her. But if they did see her, it would be for the last time, and her new personality was such that she wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.
She began swinging her hips enticingly as she strode down the hall, reveling at each of the admiring looks she got. Now she was grateful to little Stanley for having taken her panties and she decided she would add him to her list after all, even though he'd been about as satisfying a lover as the dog--or as Bobby had been toward the end of their orgy. She returned inviting smiles to the hot looks she was getting, and she almost laughed at the idea of what her fellow workers would do if they knew her cunt was bare as well as juicy hot. But that was the way with these craven unimaginative employees of the big corporation; they had no idea of what was going on around them. Laura thoroughly enjoyed her swift walk.
Helen, smiling warmly, locked the door to the plush office behind Laura. When Laura tried to kiss her, she turned away, saying, "We can't get mussed up in here, but we can have our fun. We're going to dyke each other, honey, and not even muss up our lipstick."
"Dyke each other? What's that?"
"It's what the Lesbians do when they're not eating each other," Helen said, pulling up her smart miniskirt, pulling down her lacy white panties.
She looked extremely good to Laura, and Laura grinned and said, "Teach me. Teach me all about Lesbianism."
Helen stopped and frowned. "Hey, don't think I'm a Lesbian--or you, either. We're bisexual, you and me. And if you're smart, you'll stay that way in Vegas, although there are a lot of Lesbian hookers there to try to turn you away from guys. By the way, you'll be happy to know I got the plane tickets reserved for us and that I can make the trip with you."
Belly to belly with the bigger, softer woman, Laura smiled and said, "You were pretty confident about my making that choice. Did you know there were no openings for me in San Francisco?"
Chucking, rubbing her hairy loins against Laura's in a perfectly delightful way, Helen said, "Honey, there wouldn't be an opening for you anywhere in the country if somebody here were to see those pictures we took of you."
It took that a while to sink in. Laura was so hot that Helen had her seated on the couch and was mashing her cunt against hers before she realized that she hadn't had a choice in her future for some time. This woman that she'd almost fallen in love with had been ready to blackmail her, and now the contact of her clitoris with Laura's turned the girl cold.
Not so, Helen. The buxom redhead, encouraged by the wetness of Laura's cunt, was grinding hers against it with increasing ardor. Her painted lips were drawn back from her teeth and her eyes glinted brightly. Nostrils flared and bosom heaving, clutching at the girl and thrusting heavily with her big hips, she looked every inch the degenerate that she was. Although she disclaimed any homosexuality, she was thoroughly enjoying this--just as she'd so thoroughly enjoyed each step in Laura's progressive perversion. Had she been that way all her life--or was it the debaucheries she'd known as a prostitute that had turned her into such a rapacious and indiscriminate seductress? Laura felt she might find the answer to that in Las Vegas, and she wondered if she was then looking at herself, ten years hence. It seemed odd to be able to analyze things so clearly at a time like that. Odder still to watch Helen in the throes of orgasm, heaving and grunting and gasping, looking like a pig.
Laura's return to the office was a much more somber one than her departure. She had to go past the library where her mother had worked, and she remembered that the color of the paint on the walls had been selected by her father, and that he'd taken a can of the paint home for their living room. She walked more slowly going back, and there was no one about now to see her in her shame.
Back in the office, she typed out a memo to Personnel, carbon copying Mr. Markham. In a minimum of words, she wrote that she was resigning, and was so close to tears when she'd finished it that she put it in the "Out" box without reading it. Dejected, she looked about the office preparatory to her last departure from Consolidated Chemicals, and Perry Coleman walked in the door.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" he asked with a grin. "You're still on vacation, aren't you?"
"I had a few things to take care of," she coolly said. "I'm just leaving now."
"Just got here?"
"No. I've been here several hours."
"Bullshit. If you'd been here that long, you'd have come out to the pilot plant by now for a quickie. Is that where you were headed now?"
"I was going home. I still am."
"Come on over tonight if you're busy now. We'll get Helen and Bobby and have a party."
"Thank you, but I'm not in the mood for a party."
He leaned against the wall and smiled insolently at her. "Hell, no, you're not. Not when you can have a party every night in Las Vegas."
So he knew about it too. So they'd all cooperated in setting her up as they had. Well, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how deeply it hurt her, and how deeply afraid she was. Grinning, she sauntered past him, and as she went, she said, "I'm ready for a party any time you're ready to come up with a hundred dollars, little man.
Chapter 12
Laura bought some vodka and tomato juice on the way back to her apartment, but once there, she did not open it. She'd yielded to too much temptation in the past week, and now that it was too late, she'd at least show herself she could resist it. Looking at the bottle of liquor, she wondered if alcohol could be blamed for her downfall. She'd been drinking every time she'd made it with them at Perry's place, but then again, she'd not been drinking that day, but she'd certainly been ready to make it. It was possible, she thought, that she couldn't experience a real orgasm without a little liquor in her. If that was the case, so much the better. Working as a whore, she'd layoff the booze, and when she wanted to go on a sex binge of her own, all it would take would be a few drinks to get her going.
She sighed and put the bottle away, knowing inwardly that her lusty appetite for sex could not be blamed on anything inside a bottle. It was inside her, and with or without the influence of liquor and bad companions, it would have eventually come out. In a way she envied normal people who kept their sex lives in the correct and usually subdued relation to their day to day living. But in another way she felt sorry for them, never feeling the sexual energy bursting so magnificently in them as it did in people like herself. Even then, following her dismal experiences with Stanley and Helen, she felt it trying to burst out. She experimented with subduing it by taking a cold shower and dressing in a drably familiar old nightgown, and she was pleased that her experiment was a success. She sat down to read away the time until she'd be forced to start her new career. It was a chemistry book she chose, and she found it highly absorbing. It was good to lose herself in it and feel almost like the Laura Dandridge who had gone out of existence in the rain and mud of the Friday night before.
Laura read for a long time and dozed in her chair. The phone ran and she didn't answer it. She knew it was one of her bed partners and she had no need to see any of them or anyone at all until she was taken to see the vice lords of Las Vegas. She cooked and ate a can of soup, chagrined at herself for having an appetite for steak and potatoes now in this time of great distress. Sitting at the little table, she had to think hard about the horrors she'd face as a paid sexual performer before she was able to cry. Even then the tears didn't last long, for she knew she was not only capable of selling herself well, but also capable of enjoying it at times.
It was after dark when the knock came at the door, and she didn't rise to answer it. She sat where she was and listened to it two more times, wishing whoever it was would go away, and wondering which of her wild friends had come to drag her off to another night of dirty, wonderful fun.
"Laura, are you in there?"
It was Chuck's voice, and it gave her such a start she knocked the book off the arm of her chair.
"I know you're in there," he said after a moment's pause. "Your car's downstairs and I can hear you, so open up."
She covered her face with her hands and willed him to go away.
"Damnit, you let me in or I'll knock this door down! What the hell's come over you, quitting work and holing up here? Laura, are you sick?"
She was sick with shame and the dread of seeing him, but as he rattled the doorknob loudly and bumped hard against the wood panel, she raised her head proudly and said, "Just a minute."
In just the few days they'd been apart she'd forgotten how handsome he was. He didn't have the beach-boy good looks of Bobby Barker, nor did he have the snake-like sensuality of Perry Coleman. Chuck's handsomeness was straightforward and clean-cut, and it probably would have gone unnoticed by most girls. She tried not to notice it then, as she spoke to him with cool reserve.
"I am not sick. I have quit my job and am leaving Sulfur City. I never said I'd marry you, you're not my fiance, and I owe you no more explanation than that. So if you'll kindly stop banging on my door and..."
"You owe me a helluva lot more than that!" he interrupted, grabbing her by the shoulders with most unexpected fierceness. "Why are you quitting, and where are you going?"
"It's none of your business!" she retorted, twisting in his powerful grip. "How did you even know I'd quit anyway?"
"They sent us a copy of your resignation by, teletype at the hotel. I flew right back. Now, spit it out. Tell me. What the hell's got into you?"
Man and boy, dog and woman, they'd all gotten into her since last she'd seen him, and how did she go about telling him that? It was better he didn't know that she'd gone all the way with anyone who'd wanted her, after having held him at bay for so long.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm just sick of it here. Now, damnit, let me go!"
He turned tender in the face of her anger and tried to embrace her, saying, "If you're tired of things, I'll change them. Stop being silly and marry me, and in a few months, after we get to know each other as man and wife, I'll be transferred to another plant, and things won't be so dull there."
She resisted his attempts to kiss her, and wanted to tell him she was transferring herself to a Nevada whorehouse. But she said, "No! I don't want to marry you or anybody. I just want to be left alone."
"It's not somebody else then? God, I was worried. Sit down. Talk it out. Whatever it is, I'll understand."
Her look made him let her go. She smiled faintly and shook her head. "You'd never understand," she said, and went to her kitchenette.
Her hands were very steady as she took out the bottle of vodka. She'd broken open the cap and poured several ounces of it in a glass, planning on drinking it raw, before he strode over and snatched it out of her hand.
"Are you crazy? Have you turned into an alcoholic since I've been gone? What the hell's got into you?"
Having asked the question a second time, he deserved an answer. She waggled an eyebrow at him, curled her lips in a teasing grin, and smoothed her hand over the front of his pants. "One of these got into me," she said. "In fact, several."
He blinked a few times. He said, "You're kidding."
"Oh, no," she airily replied, stroking his pants front, finding the soft warm there. "While you were busy at the convention, I learned to fuck, and now I like to fuck. I learned some other fun things to do too, and I liked them all, Chuck, every one of them. So you see, I'm not for you. You need a nice girl, a company girl. Except perhaps when you go to conventions. Then you might like a party girl, a call girl, a whore, and then you might run into me again."
"Cut it out, Laura," he said ominously. "That's not funny. Tell me the real reason you quit, and cut that out," he said, his voice rising in anger as he knocked away her hand.
She sighed and said, "What do I have to do to prove it, take off your clothes and fuck you?" She enjoyed the way he winced at her use of the word, and she went on, confident again, unbuttoning her nightgown as she spoke. "Or would you like to see me do a little strip for you first? I can do that, too. Oh, there are lots of things I know how to do. My friends taught me it lot, Chucko."
He grabbed her arms again. "Who were they? When I get them, I'll kill them!"
"Get your hands off me!" she said, and angrily brushed them away. "It so happens I like my friends and they like me. I like to fuck and suck and I'll do it with anyone, even you, if you... if you have any balls."
His face was dark with anger, and she spun away, laughing at him over her shoulder as she bared it--loving him and wishing he'd go away--hating him and wishing he'd take her. She turned to face him before dropping the nightgown to the floor, and was warmed by the look of desire that showed through his anger. She offered herself to him with her hands, running them over her lush body in a brazenly inviting way, using them to point her big tits at him and to open up her cunt so he could see what might be waiting for him at some future convention of engineers.
He still looked angry, but now she could see the bulge in his pants. She came forward, swinging her hips and laughing softly, and he stood still while she tickled her fingers over his cheeks and down his sturdy body to his loins. She could feel it then, hard and strong, and it excited her considerably. But she contained her excitement beneath the mask of a teasing temptress.
"How would you like it, honey, plain or fancy? Mouth, cunt, or ass--for two bucks! I'm giving you a discount because you're an old friend."
He tried a sardonic grin. "Don't do me any favors," he said. "How much for all night, Laura? Or don't you use that name now. Is it something like Yolanda or Suzette now? Come on," he snapped. "How much for the night?"
She laughed and laughed, for the prospect of her turning her first trick with her almost fiance right there in her apartment was almost too much. He had to shake her to make her stop, and then she angrily said, "All right, mister! A hundred bucks for the night, but don't blame me if you die of a heart attack by morning."
To her surprise, he took five twenties out of his wallet and, taking her by the arm, led her into the bedroom where he placed the money on her pillow.
She shrugged, though now she was getting extremely nervous, and said, "Strip--or do you expect me to do that, too."
"No," he said, taking off his clothes. "I can do that. I can't suck my own cock, though, and that's what I'll have for a start. I've been wanting to see your lips wrapped around this for a long time, Laura. Do it good and maybe you'll get a tip in the morning."
The prick he held in his hand was a big one, and like the rest of him, it looked cleanly and ruggedly appealing. Still she would have backed out of it if she could have at that point, but the rampant stiffness of his organ precluded that. She had to suck it. She had to do everything he wanted, not because he was paying for it, but because this was the last time she would have to make him happy, and perhaps in so doing, make herself fully happy too. He lay on his back on the bed, she crouched down on elbows and knees beside him, and tried her best to please him.
His cock was delicious, and it was so hard. Its shaft felt like iron, though its head was as softly textured as her lips. He tasted good, too, with the faint scent of soap mingled with his maleness. Sucking his cock, fondling his balls, tickling his loins with her hair, she knew she'd never again have a cock in her without thinking of this one.
His hands were bothering her and then his voice. "Get up here, damnit. I want to eat it too, and I paid for it already, so don't be stubborn."
She didn't stop sucking his cock while he got her in the position for sixty-nine. It was so good she couldn't. His tongue in her cunt was good too, but it was just an added fillip to the real thrills she was getting from swirling her tongue on his prick and sucking it with just the right amount of pressure and gulping down the slow secretion from it. She liked the feeling of his balls in her hand too, and when they spasmodically contracted she fondly squeezed them just a bit harder.
She wasn't ready for it when he began shooting. She should have been forewarned, she realized, by the spasming of his balls, but then it was too late to think of that, for his stuff was gushing into her mouth. All she could think about was getting all of it down her wildly working gullet, and then even that became secondary as an orgasm of tremendous force and depth swept over her almost without warning. One moment she was contentedly sucking his cock, and the next she was thrashing all over the bed, his prick still in her mouth, but precious drops of his cum trickling out from the corners of her lips.
The lull that followed it was another kind of bliss, a feeling of eternal peace that she never wished to be roused from. She would have lain there forever, she dimly thought, if he hadn't pulled his prick away from her mouth and started handling her again.
"Wait, Chuck," she murmured. "Just a minute."
"This is my last night with you. I can't wait. I can't waste any time, Laura. Open up. I'm going to fuck you. Your cunt first, I think."
"Y... You're still hard?"
"Yep. It's been backed up in me for a long time, and tonight's the night it's all coming out. Open up."
The fit was tight, and it was irritating at first, for he was starting out fast right away. She asked him to slow down, but he panted back at her that he wouldn't, that he had to keep going strong now to keep his cock hard. It began to feel good, and she started to help him, and then it felt wonderful.
Panting very heavily, he stopped, and she said, "You lay back now. Let me do it."
"Know all the positions, do you?" he said, cooperating in the rolling over. "Just like a good whore."
"I'm the best whore in the world tonight, lover," she replied, and grinned down at him as she set her tits to flopping with the vigorous action of her hips. "Come on," she rasped. "Come for me again. I dare you!"
"You, first," he said, and used one hand to squeeze her tits, the other to poke a finger down against her moving clitoris.
She came again, just as hard and just as unexpectedly as before, and what followed for her was a whole series of orgasms. Each one of them was totally satisfying--until he got her groping and clutching and humping and sucking for the next. And he did this so easily throughout the short, sweet night. Even following a period of his resting, when Laura thought he was completely exhausted, he could start her off on another sexual Odyssey with the touch of his hand, the flick of his tongue. It was a night of sexual excess that she would always remember, and she knew he'd never forget it either, no matter who he might be with in years to come.
Dawn found them at the breakfast table, gorging themselves on more mortal food.
"How did you learn so much about sex?" she asked.
"That'd be telling, and I'm not asking you any specific questions about your education," he replied with a grin. "I'll tell you one thing. I learned a lot last night."
"Oh, I can tell you've done a lot before, Chuck. "
"For one thing, I never screwed a girl in the ass before, and that was really great."
"I never sucked a man till he came in my mouth before, and that was just wonderful! All of it was."
They talked then, like a couple of kids eagerly discussing the joys of the games they'd played, and when they'd gone over every moment of their night together, the sun was up and Chuck held Laura's hand in his.
"I think you'll make a good whore," he said.
She lowered her eyes and the smile left her face. "I think I will."
"But you charge too much."
She straightened up and glowered at him. "I earned it. You're satisfied."
"For now, but what about tonight? I only make eleven hundred a month. Take out my rent, my car payment, food, clothes, and I could only afford to spend maybe six nights a month with you."
"What about with-holding tax?" she sarcastically asked.
"Okay, make it three nights a month. That's not enough for a guy like me."
"You've been doing without up till now--or at least I think you have."
He grinned an evil grin. "Yeah, but I didn't know what I was missing. You're a real good whore."
She tried to snatch her hand from his, but he held it fast. "Hey, don't get mad," he said. "I understand why you have to charge so much. After all, a whore has only a few years to make it with the johns. She's got to charge a lot."
"I wouldn't let you lay me again for a thousand dollars!" she declared hotly.
"You see? You're pricing yourself out of business with your very first customer. Bad business, Laura. If you were smart, you'd charge about five bucks a night and..."
"Five dollars a night! I'd starve!"
"...about five bucks a night," he continued, "plus room and board and incidentals, like a retirement plan, for instance. And you should work under a contract, one that'll extend your career as a whore for maybe fifty years."
"Be serious. Who'd want me when I was sixty-eight years old!"
"I would, for one," he said.
She went all soft inside. "Chuck, are you asking me to marry you?"
"No, I'm asking to be your manager and sole customer. As your manager I'd see to it that you got regular increases in your fees, commensurate with your customer's abilities to pay, and I'd see that you were kept busy every night. What do you say?"
She waggled her eyebrows at him and smiled. "And what if I got a yen for one of your fellow employees at good old Consolidated?"
He waggled back at her and replied. "Then your customer might be missing a few nights, getting it on with some sexed-up little Consolidated secretary, and what would you think of that?"
"I think," she said, "I'd make you a dandy whore."
