Even when I was a girl of twelve I was somewhat more advanced than most girls my age.
For one thing, I had these terrific big globbies on my chest that had wide dark aureoles and unusually distended and expressive nipples. I think every girl in school must have been jealous of me, and a lot of them tried to touch me, as if by accident, when we were dressing for gym classes. Most girls were pretty much in awe of me.
But my big growing breasts weren't the only thing that held them spellbound. I was quite tall for my age, and I had huskily rounded hips where most girls had only straight lines or angles and corners.
Then there was this thing about my hair. It was real white-blonde, and very long and silky, with sexy waves to it, so that everyone stared when I jiggled by. And lots of girls wanted to have a hand in combing it out if I'd let them.
So you can imagine that with equipment like this I spent a lot of time in front of mirrors. Mostly because I liked to watch my big bazooms and check them daily to be sure they were growing properly.
But anyway to get back to what I was telling you I don't think I really got started until I was about fourteen.
Oh, of course, I let other little boys kiss me, but they were always so nervous around me and afraid to touch me that that wasn't much fun. I liked the kissing part a little even then I had these very succulent dark lips that always appear slightly moist and I have a little pink tongue and very white teeth, a swell peaches-and-cream complexion everywhere except on my cheekbones, where I'm just a little rosy but mostly I felt kind of eager for something more. Just what, I wasn't quite sure.
That is, I wasn't quite sure until that summer when my cousin Harold Stone, came back from college at State University...
Harold was rather tall and brown-haired and tanned. He had the body of a Greek god, and I was just intrigued enough to wonder if he would help me find out what it was caused me to toss and turn during balmy spring nights.
Harold was well over six feet tall and had a very lean, angular build that seemed to be all muscles and hard lines, planes, and angles. He was the son of my mother's sister, Bertha, which naturally made him my cousin but he had the most wonderfully beautiful and dramatic eyes and mouth, and I just couldn't take my eyes off him that summer.
He was teaching a bunch of younger kids to swim and playing counselor at a camp across the lake, but he used to visit our cabin every so often just to say hello and sponge some food off'n us. So far as I could tell, he didn't notice me very much and maybe that excited me all the more. Harold was about nineteen and had a very cool, easy way of doing things. Sometimes his body seemed so nimble that I couldn't imagine how he kept it from falling apart. I used to watch his long, smooth legs and wonder how they would feel if I touched them. And his dark tan made him look something like a heathen, with his lips appearing slightly lighter, even pink, against his dark face, so that I wanted very much to touch them and feel their softness, test his sparkling white teeth somehow, feel his long dark lashes grazing my rosy honey-tanned cheek, put my hands on those square shoulders of his...
Of course, this was just all childish daydreaming. I had no idea what might be the outcome of touching Harold in all the places I wanted to touch him...all I knew was that I was just drawn, kind of...in a way that I couldn't explain...
I finally managed some time alone with him one afternoon when my mother had gone back to the city. I was left completely alone at the cabin with instructions as to how to manage the laundry, and where to get groceries, and how to contact the handyman if repairs were needed, and things like that.
It was kind of a balmy sunny day, and I laid down on a reading couch on our veranda, one leg propped up in the air to support a magazine I was reading, wearing my white halter, a short sleeve blue sweater that was cut rather low in front, and nothing else.
And who should come swimming across the lake Cousin Harold!
He rose up out of the water and onto our private beach looking like some sort of sea god. More than ever I admired the smooth shine of his muscular legs, and the way beads of water gleamed all over his hard, lean-hipped body. This was a mature man!
He came out of the water ringing out his hair with his hands, striding towards me over the weeds and pebbles of our private beach. "Hi, cous!" he said cheerily.
"Hi, Harold," I said with just a trace of awe in my voice. The way his trunks were cut reminding me of some things I had read about in biology class. I tried to think fast now that we were going to have a few moments alone together, how could I get him to help me find out a few things... ?
"Icebox open?" he said, and he walked past me into the house.
I stood up and followed him inside.
I felt short next to Harold, because he had all of the growth of a man of nineteen, and his armpits were so thick with a fleecy wet stuff that most boys my own age were pretty far from getting. I had some there, too, and most girls my age had a little.
He had opened the refrigerator and was staring fixedly inside of it. He finally settled on a chicken leg and sat down at the kitchen table to munch on it. I moved my head so that my yellow hair was able to catch some sunlight.
He said, "This all you got to do all day, just sit around here?"
"I read magazines," I said. Strangely, I could feel a kind of itching between my legs. I looked around to see if I had brought any mosquitoes inside when I had opened the door.
"It's nice out for a swim," he said.
"I'd be happy to go swimming with you, Harold."
He looked at me strangely. Suddenly he stopped eating. "Say, just how old are you, Cynthia?" His eyes traveled up and down my body and I was warmed as if by their caress.
"Fourteen, why?"
He concentrated on his chicken leg again. "Oh, I don't know. I guess, now that I see you...well, I mean I just think you look a lot older, that's all."
"Do you think I could pass for sixteen?"
He looked at me kind of out of the corner of his eye. "Easy," he said very softly.
I smiled to myself and pranced out of the room. I settled back down on the veranda and took up my magazine. I had been reading a story about a girl who had been whipped and beaten by a gang of female toughs, and then forced to submit to them. I wasn't quite sure what "submit" meant, and what a lot of other things in the story were supposed to mean, but I had a lot of curiosity...
And I also had the feeling that Harold would not be far behind coming out onto the porch. In another moment the screen door slammed and I took off my sunglasses, dropping the magazine to the floor. I stretched so that the big globbies on my chest expanded handsomely and though my eyes had become slits, I could see that Harold was watching me. I raised one leg and just kind of let it fall lazily. My sweater had raised up so that my adorable little belly button was showing, and the halter was squeezing the life out of me in a very sensitive area. I fluffed out my taffy-blonde-white hair with my fingers and let Harold admire its length and texture the way everyone did. I had some tan from the summer, but not as much as he did but I didn't think he'd mind that.
"Harold," I whispered lazily through closed eyes, and I could hear the floorboards creak as he came toward me.
"Yes?" he breathed.
I patted the sofa. "Come on and sit down beside me. We're cousins, aren't we?"
I knew now that he couldn't have taken his eyes off of me if his life had depended upon it. He gulped, "Yes," and sat down beside me.
I was overjoyed to feel that sag as his weight made everything give. I sort of rolled toward him, but not too much.
I ran my fingers lazily up through the hairs on his forearm and felt him shiver. "Harold, do you like me?" I asked.
"Yes, cousin," he said.
I didn't like the way he emphasized that. I took my fingers away from him and put a hand over my forehead, squirming as I did so, one hand dropping to a point just slightly below my navel.
"I like you, Harold. I've often wondered what it would be like to touch you... "
He gasped. "But we're cousins," he insisted lamely.
"Oh, I know that but I can't help the way I feel the way I love to watch you, no matter what you're doing...
His head dropped because he was so full of guilt at wanting me. "But we can't, Cynthia we just can't...
I put my fingers on his arm again and that seemed to galvanize him like an electric shock.
"No one need ever know, Hal." I opened my eyes and looked at him. From the way his trunks had become distorted I had the feeling that I had affected him tremendously. I felt a curious itching, too, down below...
I slid my hand over his chest and he gritted his teeth. "I've wanted to touch you for a long time, Hal," I admitted. My fingers found the little dark nipples on his chest and caressed them. I passed my hands into the dark thickets of his armpits and his entire body trembled. "I don't know what to do, Hal show me what to do." But when I tried to pull him toward me, he resisted.
I tried another tack. "You certainly have a lot of hair there," I said as I caressed his armpits with small, fleeting titillations. "I have some, too would you like to see?"
And before he could answer, I was slipping my sweater up over my head.
Of course, I never wore a brassiere, and when I was able to look at him again he was struck speechless with admiration for the way my big things defied gravity and weighted themselves so beautifully, complete with rather enlarged pink aureoles and nipples that stood up easily an inch high.
I continued to speak, though, as if I wasn't even aware that he was watching me there.
I lifted my arms. "See," I said, "I have some hair there, too. Not as thick as yours but then, I'm only a little girl, and I'm young." I pushed my fingers into it under my left arm, playing with it. "But I'm a natural blonde, Hal and it's kind of fleecy and nice. Don't you think?"
He couldn't have thought anything, he was so speechless. I put my dainty little hand to his chest and felt his heart pounding at about eighty miles a minute.
"What are you looking at?" I asked at last. "These?" I then picked up his hand and placed it on one of my big breasts. He responded by groaning and clenching and unclenching his hand over it, so that I could see it start to swell and my breathing became very irregular, my nipple tips hardening like stones. I was surprised to find them reacting so dramatically but I was pleased, too! Because it all felt so good...and I felt like squirming, and my smooth long legs just wouldn't lie still... and I seemed to have a severe wetness down in my halter...
Slowly he prodded the tips of my breasts with his hands. I grabbed his head and slowly guided his face forward...and then that delicious, wonderful mouth of his fastened on me...
I groaned and arched forward. His tongue was so caressing, and his mouth so greedy. One of his hands climbed up my other side and found my other big globby...now he had both of them...I liked that. He kept playing with them and playing with them, and making my nipples become like rocks, and my head was swimming, and I liked it so much I would have died for it.
Then at long last his beautiful head came up for air and moved toward mine...
This was not like any kiss from any fourteen year old boy. This was beautiful Harold and he was a real man. I learned then what a kiss could be...His tongue was all over my tongue, and feeling the roof of my mouth, and my pearly white teeth, and prodding down my throat and I liked that. I tried to imitate him with my mouth, using my tongue the way he did his, and making my lips very mobile so that they were all over his mouth in a sort of wet caress...
I ran my hands up the wonderful smooth columns of his legs and felt him shiver...then finally my fingers reached up to where his legs joined...and he gasped...
We forced ourselves apart for just a moment. Harold was breathing terribly hard, and I liked that... because I was panting like an animal, too. But I wanted to look at him...I pointed down to where his manhood was prodding his trunks...
"Harold, may I see that? Please? I've always wanted to know what that looks like...." And with that I reached out and touched him, and his eyes rolled skyward, and I was surprised to find how deliciously hard he was...I felt myself squirm in my musky moisture, and now I could really conceive of how nice it could be...to have that inside and...
I feverishly ripped the zipper down on his trunks and fumbled with the restraining button on them. In my haste it came off in my fingers, and then I quickly pulled down his trunks...
"Oh" So that was what it was! It was beautiful! So that was what could help me! I loved it! Drawn as if by something outside of myself, I moved slowly toward it, desiring to place only the most evanescent of kisses on that beautiful...
But as I touched him, he groaned and curled his fingers in my hair, pressing me closer. My big breasts mashed tinglingly against his kneecaps, and I found that instead of just imparting a gentle kiss, I was prolonging a torture for him so exquisite that his eyes rolled and he moaned ecstatically...
But I couldn't help myself. It was so beautiful
and I wanted to show him how much I loved him and adored that beautiful body of his...So my tongue and mouth became more active and...
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh... " he sighed, and I was grateful but unfulfilled for my own needs...
We lay there for a while. I just ran my fingers through his shining brown hair and caressed his hard, dark shoulders.
Then at last he whispered something. "You're a witch," he said with a soft voice.
I laughed delicately, quite pleased. Then I said, "Would you like to see me with this halter off, Harold? I'm very proud of myself, and I'd be happy if you were proud of me, too."
He gulped, his sweet dear face twisted in concentration. I could feel his heart beating heavily again as he gazed up at me, unable to say or do anything.
I didn't wait for him I just undid my short shorts and slid them down over my honey colored long legs...and he was eager to help me...
"My God," he murmured as he saw me "You
you're beautiful, Cyn! You're a natural blonde!" And with that his fingers reached up and he struck me in a place so sensitive and cloying with warm desire that I groaned and fell backward as he began to ply me...wooing...wooing...his fingers so moist and driving me crazy...through the slits of my eyes I could see that he was aroused again that was what I wanted all of it! I reached for him...
"Hal," I pleaded in a voice that showed my torment all too plainly, "Hal, please give me that
I want that...not just your fingers...oh, please...
And, gulping and trembling from his head to his toes, he did what he could...His fingers disappeared...his body arched upwards as my legs fell mindlessly open...and then a pang of fire so sweet lunged into me that I thought I would die from it...
My legs wrapped around him in an agony of desire. My hands clenched his sweet behind, ripping the flesh to shreds with my long fingernails each time my lust was slaked just a little...he rode...and rode...I cried out as if I were being murdered...
"Oh, Hal...it's soooo tight...and you're so biiig...." But finally a flash of pain coursed through me that was just like the taste of lightning in a summer sky, and then we really began to make it...
"Ooooohhhh, Hal...oooooohhhhhhhhh, that's sooo good... ! " I loved him from the bottom of my soul for a pleasure like this, and my body was jerking convulsively in the throes of something more powerful than anything I had ever known.
I had no control over it...
And as we reached the finale, a beautiful course of pleasure and pain washed over me that was the blazing of a thousand suns...I'd have given a rib to be able to repeat it right away...
Harold returned to the camp, but that night he came back to the cabin and we slaked our thirst some more...
I learned what it was to be a woman, I learned how very nice it could be to have a man riding on top of you and how that feeling was worth more than anything in the world...
I also began to appreciate how my beauty could drive a boy as beautiful as Cousin Harold just wild with desire. I said to myself, if these good looks can do you some good when you're working around men, why not use them?
I spent even more time than ever, after that, watching myself in the mirror, studying the graceful, voluptuous lines of my luscious young body.
I used to play with myself with my hands, and imagine that I was a man and making love to myself...that was a game that was really nice...and of course, Harold came over every night...
But then my mother returned to the lake, and we had to cool it somewhat.
My mother's name is Jennifer, and we don't look alike at all. She's very dark, with very glossy, long black hair that she often spends hours at night combing out, and very pale skin that never quite takes a suntan the way mine does.
But her flesh is probably more creamy than pale and I suppose it had driven plenty of men wild over her in her time. I know that my father was often dancing around her quite anxiously but she put him off quite a lot.
I wondered about that. You see, I didn't seem to resemble my mother in the slightest, so that it was only with a bit of imagination stretching that people could picture me as her daughter at all.
For one thing, she was quite slender, with small pomegranates for breasts and I was well on my way to being built like well, anyway, we were different in that department... And we just looked very much different. Her face was an oval, while mine was a heart her eyes were black while mine were blue, and so on.
Our natures were also very different. I was kind of a fun person, but mother well, mother seemed just a bit severe to people who didn't know her very well. And then, too, I never had many girlfriends around me girls just didn't interest me very much. I much preferred to be around boys and maybe other girls resented that a little...
But anyway, mother had lots of girlfriends, and she was always bringing them to the house when daddy was out, and up to the cabin during the summer.
She seemed to change girlfriends quite a lot, too, and she always had me call them "auntie," even though they weren't related to us.
And mother's friends sure dressed strange. One woman she brought home once was kind of a big, mannish-looking woman, and she had huge breasts but wore tight levis, a brown work shirt, and a black motorcycle jacket with four stars on it and white letters on the back that spelled out: THE BABES.
That one had kind of a mean face, too, and whenever she looked my way I just kind of winced.
To give you an example of the way she annoyed me, I can tell you how she used to talk in front of me. She used to say to mother, "Hey, that little baby of yours is really growing up, Jenny. Lookit the boobs she's getting." And mother would tell her to shut up, and she would, but somehow I always felt as if her eyes were on me, and I felt uncomfortable around her. I don't know why I should have, I just did.
But that's just to give you an idea.
Other friends of mother's would sometimes be walking around the house in black leather boots, or black five-inch high heels with netted hose and black panties with black tabs, or black leather brassieres, even. They seemed to wear the strongest outfits when they were relaxing. And occasionally one of them would even walk around carrying a whip in her hand. I could never figure out the reason for that, unless maybe they were lion tamers off duty.
But of course, one doesn't question one's own mother.
I didn't begin to get an inkling about what sort of a person my mother was until that summer at the lake.
...It started one afternoon when she was drying the dishes. I had just come in from rowing around the lake with some boy from down the road, and I felt so happy that I just threw my arms around mother and just squealed, pressing my big, growing globby things against her slender back as I did so.
With my slender young legs pressed against her like that, and the apex of my thighs rubbing against the bottom of her rear, it became all too clear right away that mother was trembling.
"Mother what's wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
She turned on me with a haunted look in her eyes that's the only way I can describe it. And then she hollered at me.
"Get away from me!" she screamed.
I was so taken aback that I didn't know what to do. "Mother-" I reached out for her and she shrunk back from me as if I were a snake.
"Get away from me!" she screamed again.
CHAPTER TWO
"But mother," I insisted, pressing forward. "What's wrong? Have I done something that made you angry?" My eyes brimmed with tears.
For just that moment she looked so genuinely touched that I really thought she was going to take me into those lovely arms of hers but I was wrong. She started to move toward me, seemed to think better of it, and then just stood there, glaring.
Finally she said, "You shouldn't put your arms around your mother like that, darling. You're too big a girl for that now."
She looked quite shaken, but it was obvious that she was trying to keep her voice under control. I felt very hurt and I made it my business to look it. I stretched out, kind of, so that my big growing chest kind of fell all over under the pink sweater I was wearing. I could see a lump rise in her throat, but I didn't know what to think about that. "I'm sorry," I said softly.
She seemed to be pulling herself together.
"That's all right," she said. "Now just go to your room, and we'll have a little talk later."
"All right," I agreed happily, and I went to my room with a bouncing little walk.
It was about approaching twilight, and since nothing more would be on the agenda for the evening than to watch a little television, have a snack, and curl up into bed with a magazine, I put on the pink negligee I had bought for warm summer nights and combed out my hair.
That day I had gotten some more tan, and I was really brown, so that little freckles had appeared at the topsides of my breasts. I didn't mind that, though, in fact I thought that looked rather interesting.
I enjoyed watching my long blonde hair spin through the comb and brush. It was of such a nice flaxen consistency and weight, but it was thick, too. I rather admired it every bit as much as other people did.
And I liked the way my breasts burgeoned against the negligee, puffing it way out in front so that it fell like a veil over the beauty of the rest of my superb body. The little bow at the top of its plunging neckline rested just about the middle of the slope of my things, but you could still see plenty of cleavage because they had gotten so big. In fact, because I had grown so much since the start of the summer when I had bought it, the hem was now rising above my luscious knees, so that plenty of creamy thigh flesh was readily visible from any angle and when I was sitting, it rose up almost to my crotch!
But I didn't mind in fact, I liked to watch myself, and as much of myself as possible.
I combed out my hair like that for a while, and then I did it up in a ponytail with a pink ribbon. Then I sort of stretched out on the bed and dozed for a while.
When I awoke, I found mother staring at me, sitting in a chair across from the bed.
I rose up lazily and yawned, raising my arm so that the nightie rose, too, all the way up my thigh. "Hello, mother," I said sweetly.
"Cynthia" she began, "I've been meaning to have a talk with you."
"About what, mother?" I was all wide, blue-eyed innocence, you can bet. Anyway, I wanted to learn whatever there was for her to teach me.
She lit a cigarette nervously. She had changed to a white housecoat that was open at the neck, revealing that lovely pale white throat and just the shade of a hint of her lovely small hard breasts. I liked to watch her like that, I don't know why.
She said, "I thought we should have a talk about the birds and the bees, Cynthia."
"What about them?" I kind of wondered what they had to do with human love and the reproduction experience, but I figured that mother must know what she was talking about.
"Well for one thing-well, what I mean is Cynthia, I have to talk to you about how babies are made!" She said this in a very nervous, loud voice, and then quickly looked around as if to see if someone were listening.
Someone was. Me. But I couldn't figure out what she was getting at.
She finally managed to pull herself together, and she stood up and brought the chair over to the bed. "Cynthia," she said, "-has any boy ever touched you?"
"Who, me? Mother, how do you mean? Why should a boy want to 'touch' me?"
She took my dainty hand in hers and I could see her staring up the nightie toward me. She looked very nervous. "You know, Cynthia, you're only fourteen but you're growing very fast, and some day you'll be a woman." She paused to let that sink in which was not a bad idea.
"Gosh, just like you, mom?"
"Well-" she looked around again, "not quite like me." Almost of its own volition, her fingers seemed to glide up my smooth thigh and lie there. Her touch reminded me of how I felt when Harold touched me, and I felt myself sort of squirm inside. Something was kind of warming up inside of me, too.
She went on, "Already you've got the body of-"
"Oh, do you think I have a good body?"
She looked unable to speak. Finally I broke the ice with, "I'll show you my body." And I lifted the nightie up over my blonde head.
She gasped when she saw me; mother hadn't come into my room for a long time. She must have been pretty surprised to see how those nice things on my chest had swelled, and the dark nubs on them had widened, and what nice glistening ringlets I had in my armpits now...and how tawny my thighs were...how much wider my hips...how fleecy that tempting golden mount of mine...
I knew I had her enthralled and waited for her to speak. At long last she composed herself, and with eyes gleaming she reached out to fondle one of my big globbies. Ooooh, I squirmed when she clenched me.
"And no boy has ever touched you here?" she hissed.
"No, mom. Ooooh, that feels nice... "
She slapped me on my breast so that it shook from side to side, and that hurt. "Never mind!" she shouted. "That's not supposed to feel nice! You should never let a boy touch you there, do you understand!"
I understood all right. I nodded and looked hurt. Then she seemed to soften again. She reached forward and grabbed one of my flinty nubs again, and with her mouth open, began to twist on it. "How does that feel, dear?" she asked.
"Oooooh... " I murmured.
She continued, "You see, when a boy touches you like that, that may send shivers through your entire body. And when he rubs it -" She began to rub my hardening nipples. "-Then you'll like it, and it might drive you crazy for wanting something. That's how babies are made."
I looked at her through clenched eyes. "Gosh, is that all there is to it," I said, hoping there was more...
She picked up both my breasts in her two hands and lifted them like gourds, gently rubbing my hardening pink love buds.
"You see, dear," she said, "when a boy plays with these nice big things on your chest, it will make you feel funny, see?"
"I'll say," I breathed huskily.
"How does that feel?"
"Fine," I groaned.
"And when he plays with them, or does this-"
She leaned forward and ran her lips and tongue over my flinty nipples."-That's all a natural part of being alive, and it shouldn't frighten you-"
"-I feel plenty alive now, mom," I murmured, almost whistling through my teeth over the way I was beginning to feel. I grabbed her shoulders partly for support and partly to help her glide that maddening tongue of hers across my jouncy breasts and nipples that were standing up like toy soldiers.
"Mmmmmmm... . " I murmured, feeling lax, swooning, feeling as if I were on a long boat ride that was traveling endlessly up into the sky and everywhere.
Then I discovered where her hand had been slowly creeping to...into the secret niche of every girl's desire...but I didn't care...in fact, I spread my legs just a little so that she would have plenty of room...
But then she backed off from me and just stared fixedly down at the glowing hot apex of my sweating thighs.
But to my relief she put her hand there again, and just kind of manipulated, her eyes feasting on my helpless blonde loveliness as I endured this slow torture.
"And no boy's ever touched you here?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," I said, trying to shake my throbbing head.
She kept looking down. "...You're very beautiful," she said at last. "You must get the blonde from your father...but you wear it much more beautifully...." She looked me in the eye and suddenly became all business again. "You see," she said, "when a boy touches you down here you're going to feel quite funny."
I had gathered as much, but I didn't have the strength to tell her that. I was dying, but not from laughter, by any means...
"He'll rub you, sweetheart," she murmured consolingly, "until it will feel as if these beautiful legs of yours are going to melt. Take it from me."
By now I wanted to, but I was helpless. She had run one hand up my palpitating leg, smoothing my well-turned calf and kneecap, caressing me underneath, on the rear of my thigh. I lifted my leg up to accommodate her. I was going crazy with desire for something...anything...anything to soothe my tormented young teenage flesh...
She climbed up on the bed so that she could be next to me. She was wearing a musky sort of perfume that I couldn't identify, but which swam around my head like a mist. She continued to knead my breasts as part of her demonstration.
"Y-yes, m-mother," I stammered helplessly, enslaved by her groping, feverish hands.
And then she said, "And then, too, boys might try to kiss you like this. . . " And with that her head bent toward mine and her pink tongue found mine and imparted a kiss so electric that it made me shiver from head to toe.
"Ooooooh, m-mother... "
"And a boy will ply your beautiful fresh mouth like this, dear... " And she began to show me. Her mouth was all over mine, then hot down my face and...and...and under my throat in a place so sensitive that it made me clench her shoulders fiercely. She continued to mouth my flesh there and I was agonized with desire, a need to be quenched...
She must have sensed my readiness, the way my breasts throbbed and swelled under her knowing hands, the way my flinty love-darts peaked under her titillating caresses...And then her mouth traveled downward...
She was saying, "A boy will want to put his mouth on these big hard things of yours, you silly girl...That's why you've got to save them just for momma...." And she put her mouth on my nipples and my legs began to shake uncontrollably, spasming with involuntary reflex into the knowing touch of her eager fingers that...
"Aahhhhhh... " I gurgled deep in my throat, eager for every burning sensation...Her fingers plied me earnestly, not allowing a moment respite. I found her housecoat open and slid my hand in to feel her nice hard breasts that had been so good to me...Another hand I slid into her long black hair, which had become unwound and fell around us in a wave of tickling all over my sensitive, burning young flesh. She prodded and prodded...my legs jerked...I couldn't help it... ooohh...I loved it so much...
A paean of rapture continued to explode from my lips as if it had been waiting for centuries for just this moment of supreme ecstasy...and then there was a shaft of agony, light, pain, darkness, beauty, and joy that shot up through me as if it had been sent from heaven.
"Ah-ah...uh...uh...aaaaaaaahhhhhh... " And I gasped, took a deep breath, and fell back on the bed in a cold sweat, my hands still gripped tightly on her...
I had never before felt such a terrific lassitude all over my body. I didn't want to move my legs. Or my arms. Or anything. I just wanted to lie there and soak up the beauty of that wonderful severe pleasure I had just experienced. It came as a complete surprise to me that a woman was capable of helping me as much as a man could. I didn't know what to make of this remarkable discovery.
When I was finally able to get ahold of my senses, I found that mother was nowhere in sight. I tiptoed to the door of my bedroom and found her at the telephone.
"Yeah, Alice-I'd appreciate it if you could get right over. I've got everything up and I need kicks desperately. Do you promise, dear? No, don't bring the whip although I'd love it. That little she-devil hears everything Just bring over that wonderful hot body of yours. I need it desperately. Will you hurry? -Thank you, dear. Bye." And then she hung up.
I hurried back to bed and hid under the covers, because I didn't want my wonderful mommy to catch me listening to her conversations.
Then I wondered what "kicks" was.
Was mother going to have someone "help" her as much as she had helped me? I didn't know what to make of that after all, she was a married woman!
I'd've been happy to well, anyway, if she had shown me how. And I made up my mind that I would try to watch her get her "kicks" from whoever she had called so that I would know how to help her next time she got so steamed up. After all, I just couldn't stand the idea that she was cheating on daddy. That seemed just awful.
So I made up my mind to try to watch into her bedroom from outside her window.
I didn't get dressed, though, until I heard my new "Aunty" Alice arrive. Mother must have thought I was asleep, because she didn't bring our guest to my room and introduce her the way she usually did. Instead, they went right to mother's bedroom, as if they were in an awful hurry. Correspondingly, I moved to get dressed.
I put on the black high-heeled leather boots mother had given me for my birthday, and my tight black levis that pinched me something terrible, and a black sweater. Then I bunched my hair up under a dark blue sailing cap I had around, and tiptoed out of my room.
I couldn't hear anything from mother's bedroom, but I had the feeling that there would be plenty to see if she hadn't dropped the shade on her window...
I was right! As I rounded the corner of the cabin I could peek inside her window and catch the most fantastic scene any teenager ever witnessed in her own house!
The room was in a sort of twilight, because only one small lamp had been lit by the bed. Mom's housecoat had fallen open, revealing those luscious pear-shaped breasts of hers, and the other woman, a redhead with long wavy hair that caught exciting highlights from the lamp, was bent toward her, her mouth on mother's coral nipple.
The redhead was slowly shucking her clothes off, but she kept her mouth there, and was it ever active! Mother clutched her and groaned as she was worked on. The redhead never paused for an instant and in a moment she was stark naked, their bodies blending in a kind of orgy of lust so that you wouldn't have been able to tell whose leg was which.
Maybe mother's leg was thrown over the redhead's, and their mouths were locked tightly together, and there was a lot of motion over those bedsheets, and their hair was all over them, too.
I couldn't help it, just looking at them made me get all excited, and I felt that I needed something that I just had to make it again...I couldn't help it...my hand just naturally gravitated downward towards an itching that was driving me crazy...I zipped the levis down...my fingers found a kind of oozing softness that was all myself, so wet and cloying and sweet...and I couldn't help wanting...
Mother and the redhead had reached some sort of peak and they leveled off and started loving each other again but in a way that was completely new to me!
I watched in awe and amazement as the redhead's beautiful head slowly descended, kissing mummy's tummy, and finally reaching a spot that was so obscene I couldn't believe it my fingers moved faster and faster...mommy's head was thrown back, her neck chords straining as she pushed on the woman's shoulders and cried out something unintelligible...my fingers moved faster...oooooohhhh, I loved it...The way the strange woman's mouth was working on mother was horrible, but it was driving me crazy...She plied it one way, then the other...Mother squirmed about as if she was being branded by red-hot irons...And then the woman did something so amazing that I could scarcely believe it...
Twisting her body like a gymnast, her legs came up around mummy and her red hair fell all over mummy's tummy...I stared speechless as mummy's pink tongue darted out...and fed on something so obscene that it turned my stomach...
I turned quickly and retched into the bushes. When I finally pulled myself together again, I looked into the window again...
They were really hungry, I suppose. I must have missed a lot, because now mother was on the redhead's thighs, those nice breasts of hers just sort of dangling, and the redhead was beating her red bottom with hairbrush, calling out things I couldn't quite make out, but they sounded something like: "You will be good! You will be good!"
And mommy was crying and shaking her legs furiously, but at the same time there seemed to be a look of ineffable ecstasy on her face I couldn't imagine that How on earth could one feel good about being beaten on one's bare botty?
Oooh, it seemed awful. I could see that there was not going to be much else that would interest me at this party. Anyway, I wanted to get back to my room before I was noticed missing...
And too, I still had this furious itching that I hadn't quite satisfied...
I made my way back to my room and laid down on the bed, just kind of squirming and running my hands all over my beautiful body.
This had certainly been an exciting day. Slowly my hand worked to quell some of the excitement still palpitating in my swollen breasts...and after a moment, I cried out, too...
CHAPTER THREE
And that's the story of how I was introduced into the wonders of my own body during my fourteenth summer. After that I let mother come around and "instruct" me from time to time, and I pretended that this was all a sort of lesson that she was giving me because she was such a sweet mother, and she got her kicks from it, too...And bit by bit she fell more and more under the spell of my beautiful growing body. By the time I was sixteen my magnificent breasts had expanded even more, and now they were huge, jouncy pendants that wobbled nicely under my sweaters when I walked, but which supported themselves in defiance of gravity equally as well. They had immense pink-and-coral aureoles that seemed to swell out in every direction, and my nipples were so sensitive from mother's handling that they would spring up hard and over an inch tall on just the slightest touch.
I liked that.
I let a few boys touch them, and Cousin Harold was always giving me money and presents if I could arrange to see him once in a while, but mostly I reserved them for mom's hungry mouth. She still thought that I was a virgin and very innocent; and had no idea about how conniving I was.
She was good for a lot more goodies than anyone else, too. She gave me money and whatever I wanted. And when she required a little pressure before she came around, I just withheld my own goodies and then she came crawling to me, licking my dainty feet if I insisted on it. I made her beg plenty to get back in my good graces if she ever denied me anything. After a while I had her running and fetching, and dominated her completely. And all the time she thought I still thought she was working all over my beautiful fair young body because she was "training" me. What a laugh.
Dad was something else again.
Dad was about forty-five, and balding, and had a paunch, and was a stout churchman. He was puritan as all get out, and never even smoked on Sundays, and he would have been surprised as hell to know what was going on in his very own house.
We never gave any indication, though. For one thing, dad had plenty of money, and no one wanted to be cut out of anything. He had managed the Plainville bank for about a million years, and he had a finger in every pie. He'd have been a bad man to cross, and mother knew it. So did I.
Every Sunday he used to drag us to church so that we could hear Pastor Stradlatter give everyone in the immediate vicinity hell because they hadn't chosen to worship God in the way that Pastor Stradlatter wanted them to, or we weren't pious enough or something. Between all that fire and brimstone he was lecturing us on how all pleasure was evil and sinful, and all joy wasteful of Man's (what about Woman's, I wanted to ask right then) energy. And how all pain and privation must be Heavenly. Frankly, if all that was true, I didn't think that I wanted to go to Heaven very much. It didn't sound as if people had a good time there. Anyway, I don't know how to play a harp...and heights make me dizzy.
But anyway, just hearing old Stradlatter speak placed a look on dad's face of ineffable joy, as if he were hearing heavenly angels. I used to look over at him in our pew which was right up front, because people with dough like dad had always get to sit nearer to God and there was a look of reverence and ecstasy on that bleary bloated face of his that reminded me something of my own face when my body was being used.
The resemblance was frightening, and I rather hoped that I wouldn't go bald.
But anyway, all this is just to let you know what a strict home I came from. Before I started winding mom around my little finger, she was a pretty severe customer, too. And dad was never what you'd call a "fun guy" exactly.
I don't think I had any really interesting new adventures until I was about sixteen. It's true that I let some of the boys in school have a few favors, but not very much. Most of what I got, I got from mom and Cousin Harold, who were pretty good at feeling around me so that it made my blood boil and my legs perspire.
But when I was sixteen I started working at the Taylor Shoppe in town, to make a little extra money ostensibly dad was very proud to see I had a thirst for gold the way he did but actually I just wanted to get out of the house a little and meet new people, widen my contacts. As a sixteen-year-old I was pretty well limited in who I could meet. I mean, there wasn't much excitement for me at church socials and that kind of thing. And I wanted to widen the circle of people who would admire my beautiful body.
After all, it wouldn't have been very fair to keep all that loveliness to myself, would it? Being a narcissist, nothing could excite me more than someone admiring me as much as I admired me that really turned me on.
So when I started work at the Taylor Shoppe, I really kind of hoped that I'd be able to arrange for a slightly more intriguing social life for myself than what was now in progress and anyway, I like variety.
Taylor's was on Main Street and owned by Mr. Taylor, of course, an old guy of about thirty-nine with a wife and family. The store sold wearing apparel of every possible sort, and eventually everyone in Plainville had to buy something there. It was a shop you couldn't stay out of, if you wore clothes.
It handled men's things suits, coats, shoes, shirts, everything and women's things bras, and panties with hearts on them, and sheer hose, and earrings, dresses, skirts, sweaters, blouses anything any woman needed to wear in order to draw the male of the species into her lair.
I was put into the sweater department, which is kind of appropriate and Taylor must have sensed it because I have these nice big things on my chest, and I was a proud walking advertisement for every sweater in the store.
So there I was, every day after school. Selling sweaters, and occasionally doubling in the skirt and blouse department, and I still didn't realize what was up, what an opportunity I had.
Of course old man Taylor had put me in that department just because of my looks, because a lot of the older women of the town liked to come in and see a nice young thing in the store, and it gave them a chance to touch me a little (a bit surreptitiously), and to have me touch them, when I smoothed a skirt down, or twisted a blouse, or fitted a sweater. I knew that turned these old dames on, and I made the most of it.
Of course, to the casual observer, it all looked very "clean" and harmless. You wouldn't have been able to tell that I was touching these old dames in places that made them tingle, and that they were getting a charge out of brushing me in places. And we would never have admitted it even to each other. The only way it showed was in the way sales skyrocketed in any department where I was around.
All very innocent, you see. And if anyone would have suggested anything, I'd have denied it and looked terribly shocked.
One trick of mine in selling blouses went something like this: I'd have a woman trying on a blouse, and she'd be back in the fitting rooms, where there's a mirror and everything and I'd go in and say, "Mrs. Smith, you look lovely in that blouse, but here's a button open." And then I'd make like I was fixing her button and then sort of incidentally smooth the topsides of her big mother's breasts and watch them quiver and jiggle as Mrs. Smith took a deep breath.
My face never gave away anything, and I'm sure all of these women considered me quite innocent and felt quite guilty themselves for being of such a lewd turn of mind. But they couldn't help themselves all they knew was that that beautiful little blonde girl at Taylor's had very un-shy hands and a way of moving that excited them. So they kept coming back for more and more stuff, and each time I'd give them a little more of the treatment and were they crazy about it.
Well, right about this time I'd get to thinking about my salary.
See, I was selling about $800 worth of goods for Mr. Taylor every week but I was only getting paid about $1.40 an hour which was maybe thirty bucks per week. And I got to thinking even if he gave me only 10 per cent I'd make a lot more dough than I was making now and considering his mark-up, he could easily spare that.
I knew for a fact that some of his stuff was marked up as high as 120 per cent, so why shouldn't I get a piece of that?
I started my program for a profit-sharing plan by short-changing small amounts on the cash register.
For instance, if a customer gave me just the right change, I might forget to ring it up at all, just kind of "deposit" it in my pocket as if I had forgotten about it, or as if I intended to ring it up "later," and make myself very busy with something else. If anyone noticed anything funny, I could just play surprised at my own forgetfulness.
Other times I'd make a sale and open the register with the little button that was in its back. When you pushed this button, the register would open without anything being registered. I'd just drop in the money, make change, make a mental note of how much I was depositing -and then I'd be sure to remove the amount of the sale from the register later.
It all worked smooth as silk before long I was pulling down a couple hundred bucks per week, and for a high school kid that's all gravy.
Unfortunately or maybe I should say fortunately old man Taylor was not as dopey as he looked. And one night toward closing, he called me into his upstairs office...
I sat down nervous as hell and crossed my legs so that my tight mini-skirt crawled all the way up my creamy thighs. I was kind of new to this sort of thing, and I didn't know whether he was on to something or not and if he was, whether I could get life imprisonment, or what. But I knew that whatever happened, every normal man likes to see a little flash of thigh on a kid who's as well put together as I am.
So I let him look. What the hell, it didn't cost no extra. I sat up straight so that my big globbies pointed out right at his eye, and held my stomach in so that he could see what a nice small waist I had. I was wearing a tight yellow sweater that really grabbed, and just a tiny little belt. I was glad that I had combed out my hair so that it hung long, blonde and wavy down my smooth back. I had it tied up with a pink ribbon.
So you can see, I was really the picture of tempting teenage loveliness, and I intended to make the most of it.
Taylor didn't seem to be very shook by me, though. He cleared his throat with "Ha-rumph," and looked down at some papers in front of him. He was a small guy who always wore brown suits. He had small, beady eyes behind thick glasses, and his hair was thinning considerably. Just a thin wisp of it was strung across the front of his head like piano wire. He was a disgusting little guy, but then I hadn't had the hots for some time, and I was kind of fed up with mom and Cousin Harold. You want to know the truth, I'd've fallen onto a robot if he was available, that's how ready I was.
I wondered how Taylor was going to do it. I could imagine him feeling for my pink panties, and fumbling with the tabs, caressing my creamy smooth inner thighs so that I'd squirm and beg him for it...Then, I could imagine him seeing me when my panties were dragged off, and falling in love with that blonde temple of love of mine. That was the vault he'd want to drop his jewels into for safe keeping, and it was ready as it'd ever been.
Where would he kiss me? I tried to imagine it. And the more I imagined, the more I squirmed.
I might kiss him a little, too, for my mouth was ripe and hungry for a few things I hadn't tasted for a while. You can believe that I'd show him a good time.
I'd drive him so crazy with wanting this great body of mine that the rest of his hair would fall out from it.
But until we reached that point, I could see that we had a bit of traveling to do because I could see that old Taylor was in a serious mood.
After what seemed like a million years, he smoothed back his head with the palm of his hand and spoke without looking at me.
"Cynthia, you've been stealing from your sales," he said as cool as you please.
"What of it?" I said.
This kind of surprised him, because he looked up with a kind of bewildered look on that soft face of his.
I made the most of his glance by standing up and stretching my big things at him. That really made him gulp and tremble a little. I said, "I can't help it, Mr. Taylor. I'm just a child of circumstances. I like nice things but my parents won't buy me anything. They have all that money, but they refuse to share it with their only offspring. They're very mean to me. In fact, my father beats me. Would you like to see where ? "
And then, with that mouth of his still agape, I pulled my sweater up over my head, and since I never wear a bra, my gigantic globbies bobbed and lobbed all over the place.
It didn't take much to see that I had him drooling. I pretended, though, to be turning around as if to show him marks on my back, but of course there weren't any. I said, "Gosh, I guess all the welts have healed."
And then I turned to face him again, my torso bare, my hips straining at the tight skirt, the waistband of my pink panties just barely showing. I could see that he was lollygagging at the sight of my beautiful pink things that held themselves so beautifully in defiance of Isaac Newton.
I moved closer to him and put my hands on his shoulders. My things were only inches away from his hot, feverish face. He looked as if he were going to burst a blood vessel looking at them.
"Mr. Taylor," I said as huskily as I knew how, "you don't think I deserve a beating, do you?"
And with that he couldn't take any more of it. He lunged for my breasts and his glasses fell off. Hungrily he snapped up one of my aureoles whole into his greedy mouth.
I just stood there and enjoyed it. Ooooh, the way his tongue and teeth and lips were grabbing at me just made me shudder. I was ready to go in seconds.
But he wanted to work them over indefinitely. I thought he'd never tire of playing with them. He must have been starved for things like mine at home. His old lady probably had small, saggy ones that looked like broken egg yolks. But mine were so big you could get a handful and still need a basket to carry the rest. And was I proud of them. The more he played with them, the prouder I got. He just worked them over and worked them over until I felt weak and dizzy. My breasts must have doubled in size, and my aureoles were huge as hamburgers (an appropriate simile), the tips standing up hard like little soldiers as his tongue cajoled them.
Boy, I thought he'd never get around to the main business. But at long last he began tugging at the zipper on my skirt and before I knew it, it had slid down around my pretty legs, leaving me standing in panties, garters, silk hose and high heels.
When he saw that dark thicket of mine, he went crazy over it. His face lunged forward and he was cajoling me maddeningly, pressing in, squeezing, frictioning about. There was a musky odor flying all around us that was just heavenly. My head fell backward in delight, but I had the presence of mind to reach for him in just the right place.
Juice! He was hard as Gibraltar!
I was almost a little afraid of him with something like that but at the same time I felt as if I needed it to keep from floating right up through the ceiling.
I backed off and let him get up. With nervous hands he undid my tabs so that my stockings fell away. He caressed my bare thighs until I wanted to scream for mercy, and then he insinuated his fingers into the waistband of my panties and drew them down. In a moment his hands were on me where I liked it best and I was ripping at his trousers with my fingernails like some cat cornered in an alley with the exception that punishment was just what I wanted!
I groaned and moaned and begged him, and finally I had his zipper down.
Ooooh, it was immense! So much bigger than Cousin Harold's! I thirsted for it the moment I saw it, and I got him to whirl me around so that I was propped up against a corner of the desk. Then I lifted my leg over his side and he sent a shaft of lightning into me that made my teeth chatter as if it were the end of the world.
I clenched him, whimpering like a silly kitten, wanting every painful terror of his movement. And he had it, too. What workmanship for a little nobody wow!
"Harder oooh please harder!" I pleaded with him, and he wasn't prepared to let me down. My hands were around that pale body of his, clutching him as if he were the last man on earth. And we went to town until an explosion rocked Main Street for the both of us...
I spent the afterward just kind of on my knees in front of him, my mouth helping him along again. He had his hands in my hair, and he was holding my head so tight that I wouldn't have been able to escape had I wanted to. But I didn't mind, because I had become greedy with admiration so my tongue and lips worked overtime to soothe him and bring him to a tumescent peak again.
His fingers clenched and unclenched in my gold hair, and his legs kept pushing against my breasts to stiffen them up by scratching them, and my nipples wer still hard as stones.
When I finally helped him to make it, he pulled my head up and jerked a kiss off of my tender mouth that shook me right down to my very bones, and then I fell in a heap onto the floor.
When I looked up, he was pouring himself a stiff shot of whiskey from a beaker next to the desk. I stood up and began putting on my clothes. All the time I kept whimpering, "You...you dirty old man! You-you seduced me...." And then I'd cry a little.
I could see that I was reaching him. He knew plenty damn good that I could get him in a lot of trouble if I chose to do so. He could get twenty years in Sing Sing, as that went.
He offered me a drink. "Don't talk silly, Cynthia. Have a drink. Get your clothes on."
"What order you want me to do all that in, huh?" I slipped my skirt up and did the buttons and zipper. I was saving my sweater for last, because I wanted him to have as long a look as possible at my big jouncy things so that he could dream of them tonight when he was at home with that sagging old bag of a wife of his.
He liked looking at them, too. Even now.
He brought me a drink and I like to have gagged on it. I didn't even know what whiskey was supposed to be, let alone be able to drink the stuff (I learned pretty good later on, though.).
As I drank he couldn't help passing his hands over my stuff. I just kind of moved against his hands and let him have his fun.
"You're having a lot of fun, aren't you?" I said slyly.
"Cynthia God, you, you're beautiful!" He said this with the kind of unholy reverence that I appreciate a lot, and as a consequence I gave him a great big sloppy kiss right on that mouth of his, and pressed myself against him so that he wouldn't forget what I could do for him. His knees shook like they were made of jello.
After a while I held him away and just kind of looked at him with this earnest, little-girl's look I'm so good at. "Mr. Taylor, darling," I said, "why'd you have to seduce me and get my little girl's body all in an uproar ? Now I'll have to have it all the time that's just terrible, isn't it?"
He didn't say nothing, he just gulped several times. So I figured it was time to kiss him off and let him think what I could do for him. If he wanted to call copper about the stealing, I'd just get him tossed behind bars. If not, we'd just go on like we were. I'd pick up a few trinkets and some dough now and then with his overhead he'd never miss it and he could go on getting something from me once in a while. That seemed like a fair arrangement.
I didn't know it at the time, but I was already forming my alliance with a method of operation that I was going to use for some time a method of working on men that was going to do a lot for me...
I worked on this guy Taylor for some time before his store started going into the red. The guy became a boozehound, for one thing, and he couldn't stay away from the stuff. Eventually he disgusted me. Who needs weaklings like that?
I kept on filching, and coining cash socking it away in a bank in another town so that no one at home would know. And bit by bit, I was getting kind of rich that is, for a kid my age.
But I still felt that I had to have more. I didn't know what this more was supposed to be, what shape it should come in, all I knew was that I needed it like plants need sun. I had to go beyond the hill, and experience every kind of worldly sensation both pleasure and pain before I'd be able to let myself loose from this world.
So Taylor's store was going broke, but I didn't care, and even the money wasn't giving me much of a charge.
What really gave me a kick was the way I could make this guy crawl after a while, begging me for anything. If I just let him touch my fanny, it would set him off. He was so crazy for my hot little body he'd've died for me.
And I encouraged him, too, with kisses in just the right places. And I teased a lot. But so what? Was it my fault he was a weak slave to any good-looking teenager with a set of nubs?
But I had reached a dead end. Ma, Cousin Harold, and now this jerk. Who else could I get something out of ? I had looks and I had money, and Hollywood fascinated me. Who else could I go to who could help me out in that direction ?
And that was when I got to thinking about dad.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hollywood was a long way off from Plainville. If I wanted to get there, I'd have to have a number of things. For one thing, I'd have to have my folks' permission, or the law could draw me back in a hurry.
Then, I'd have to have plenty of money so I could make the proper splash and meet the right people. I'd read a lot of movie magazines and I knew how important that was.
At the moment I didn't have quite what I thought was enough money, but there was one person in my family who could be a big help on that score.
Good old dad.
He had kind of a paunch, and he wasn't exactly the warmest father in the world, but I felt sure that he would want the best for his baby. After all, I was his pride and joy, wasn't I?
Still, I had to figure out how to get some money away from him clean, cash only.
He was a puritan kind of guy, my pop, and not an easy man to approach. I knew that the direct method wouldn't work at all. I'd have to be more subtle. Especially seeing as how he considered sex to be the work of the devil, and pleasure inherently evil. I didn't think I could reach him with anything too direct.
I spent some time for a while just looking myself over in the mirror. I was a sweet-looking blonde young kid, and frankly, I didn't see how any man could resist giving me anything I asked for. It was too bad that pop was such a tough type. Still, I guessed he would be a kind of challenge. I prepared for him the way Eisenhower prepared for Normandy.
I'd just be around him all the time. He'd be sitting in the living room every evening with his pipe and slippers, reading the day's stock market reports from New York, and I'd just kind of drift through in a robe, maybe pick up a magazine to read, or a newspaper, or just kind of fuddle around with something. All the time my robe would kind of dip, so that maybe if he was even glancing out of the corner of his eye he could catch a glimpse of my big beautiful things and the way they hung in such great symmetry. Frankly, I didn't see how he could help wanting to catch a little view.
But dad was a lot colder fish than I'd given him credit for. He'd just sit there night after night, and not pay one iota's worth of attention to me at all.
That made me pretty mad, I can tell you. I vowed I'd get the dirty bugger for slighting my cute little body if it was the last thing I ever did.
Finally one evening I managed to pretend to twist my ankle on the stairs. I was wearing this real heavy perfume that made me kind of feel like a tigress, and when dad heard me wince, he came dutifully to me right away, just like a good pop should.
"Hurt yourself, baby?" he asked solicitously.
I nodded, and just so's I could show him where it hurt, I lifted up my leg so's he could examine my ankle all the while, my robe and shortie nightgown were slipping all the way up...and if he wanted to, he could see all the way up my thighs to where...
But he seemed to have the interest of a scientist in that ankle of mine. "Gosh, honey, that doesn't look too good. Maybe you'd better get into bed."
"Gosh, pop, that's a good idea." Yeah I liked that idea real well. Especially since mom was out with one of her playmates that night and probably wouldn't be home until late.
"Can you carry me, pop?" He grunted a little as he hoisted me into those flabby arms of his, and I just kind of cuddled nearer, my perfume making a nice mist around our heads, my smooth sweet cheek against his rough one, our lips not too far apart, my hair in its teenager's ponytail just kind of swinging back and forth and tickling his hairy neck. With each step my big globbies just kind of bobbed and weaved, and I knew he was getting a good feel of them, all right.
When we reached my bedroom, I just kind of held onto his neck with my arms when he dropped me down on the bed, so that he almost damn near fell on top of me. His knee kind of collided with my crotch, and that made me squirm, and his tie fell all over the warm satiny hollow between my breasts the feel of which was almost like a kiss to me, and I shuddered as it stung me.
He disengaged himself nervously and said hastily, "That will do, I think, Cyn, until your mother comes home."
I didn't want to let him go that easily. So I just kind of spread my legs on the bed and groaned. Not as if I were in mortal agony, but just a general sort of groan.
"Is something wrong, Cyn?" he asked nervously.
I shook my head, "No, it's just that -"
He sat down on the edge of the bed, just kind of looking down at me. "What's bothering you, Cynthia?"
"I don't know," I murmured. "I guess it's just kind of spring fever I've got."
He didn't quite get the message. He got up again and started for the door. I cried out loud.
He came running back. "Cynthia, what's wrong?"
I began feeling my big globbies and running my hand in on them. "I don't know "I said. "Maybe I'd better get my clothes off, it's so warm."
So I kind of just let the robe fall away.
What a sight I was. These two big love-globes straining at my shortie nightgown, their aureoles wide and dark with my warm, cloying obscene needs, my tummy all pressed flat, the pretty bow in my hair holding up my pony tail and making me look even younger than I was, my rich, creamy thighs so adorable, so ready to hold onto love, my shapely calves and dainty feet. What man could have resisted me?
Just for effect, I reached up in back and pulled the bow on my hair ribbon. My gold hair fell fanning all around me, glowing against my hot young skin. I kind of fell back and spread my legs. Then I reached my hand into my bodice and came up with one of my breasts.
"Daddy," I whimpered, "I hurt here." Slowly I began rubbing the immense pink aureole and nipple.
He gulped and sat down on the bed. He looked around. "Cynthia, you shouldn't -
"Daddy," I whimpered, "some big boy hurt me there."
He gulped again. He looked funny as hell with his big Adam's apple bobbing up and down. I looked at his trousers to see if I was having any effect on him. I thought I detected something, but I wasn't quite sure. Daddy wasn't exactly known as a bon vivant.
"A boy hurt you?" He asked. "How could a boy have hurt you-there?" He pointed, but didn't touch.
I kind of nuzzled my breast with my lips, just kind of pushing the big globby thing up with my hand and pressing in the hardening nipple with my thumb.
I said, "He had his hand under my sweater, and that's how he did it. It feels awful. If you would massage it with a little oil, it might feel better."
He stood up. I couldn't quite yet make out what effect I was having on him and whether I was winning or losing at this particular point. He said, "Cynthia, don't you know that you should never allow a boy to touch you there ? "
I shook my head and looked as innocent as I could. "I don't know anything, daddy. Why shouldn't I let a boy touch me on these?" I pressed up my other big breast with my hand until it, too, was falling outside of the bodice of my nightie.
I could see he was visibly shaken. "Well-be-because that's how you make babies!"
"Really?" I breathed as innocently as I could, and I leaned forward so that my nice globbies just kind of hung in front of him. I kept looking at his trousers for a sign.
"You mean I should never let a boy touch them?" I asked. "Daddy, maybe you should tell me all the things I should know about myself then maybe it wouldn't happen again."
He sat down nervously on the bed and I pressed closer. Now I could see from the folds in his trousers that I had him. He would bemy slave shortly.
I picked up my breasts and just kind of pushed them up around under my cheek.
"Gosh, they're big," he said, after I had waited for him for about a century.
"They're a lot bigger than mother's," I said. "She never wants to tell me anything about what I should do with them, though." I looked him square in the eye. "Do you think they're nice, Daddy?"
He gulped and trembled. "They're big," he said again. "Much bigger than Mother's and those centers of yours are so dark, like blood, and I'll bet they can harden up, too. I haven't touched a pair like those in a coon's age-"
"You can touch these, Daddy" I said.
He trembled and gasped.
"Sure," I pressed. "After all, if a girl can't let her own father touch her big things, who can she let? I mean, after all. Isn't that right, Daddy?"
And then he couldn't take no more. He reached out for me as if he were in a kind of daze, and at the same time I reached for what I saw in his trousers, and gasped when I got it it was really nice. Who'd've thought that he'd have -
Gosh, his lips were going on my nipples a mile a minute! Ooooh, I liked it so much! I felt all sticky and warm, now. My legs wouldn't lie still. I had him but he sure had me, too!
He sort of pressed me back on the bed, he was in such earnest. He couldn't help himself now. He was going to be my slave shortly.
But for now he was making me damned uncomfortable. For one thing, he was all up over the bed, with his big shoes ripping everything apart, and he still had his trousers on though I was reaching for him there and trying to get him but he was moving around so much I couldn't quite aaaaahhhhh!
At last I had gotten the zipper down and gotten to him. He was tremendous! I was scared and in love all at the same time. Imagine all that!
I clawed at his shorts desperately. He was still mouthing my breasts hungrily and fondling my beautiful young body all over. My legs were crawling up over his hands.
"Oooooh, dadddddy...." I whimpered as if I was frightened, but I kept feeling his hardness and drawing it toward me, all the while fighting those crazy striped banker's trousers of his, and that tie swinging back and forth, and that starched, rumpled white shirt falling out of his pants.
But I finally had him, and before he forgot what he was here for I wanted to draw him ooooooh, that felt good...I wanted to get him...
Suddenly my shortie was all the way up and I had...he lunged...I took...oooohhhhhh...and then he was so deep that I...I just wanted him to...
And then I liked it and I watched the spasm of pain shake him and then a delicious kind of greatness surged through my warm young body and I felt... AAaaaaahhhhhhh...
We lay in bed for a long while. He didn't seem capable of moving a muscle. As for me, I was uncomfortable as hell with his big body all dressed like that, and those clothes in the way of everything. You'd think the least he could have done would be to take off his shoes.
"Are you happy, Daddy ? " I whispered.
He nodded and looked very thoughtful. I had the feeling he was my prisoner now, because I could see that he was aroused again. Any man who comes back that fast must really have it for me, I figure. Slowly I bent my head and my mouth was all over him, tracing lines of eagerness. He groaned and his head fell back, as his strong hands pressed my head downward.
But I didn't need any coaxing. I was happy to do it for him. All I wished was that I could get him to do the same for me.
But wishing was one thing, and doing was another because just then the big downstairs door opened and we heard Mother's high heels trotting across the foyer.
The activity in that little room of mine would have startled a corpse. Daddy leaped out of bed directly into one of the posts of my fourposter, his suspenders trailing behind him. He looked like he had banged his nose something terrible. As for me, I just turned over and covered myself up with a blanket. He ran out of my room as if all the hounds of hell were in back of him.
A little while later, I heard them talking on the stairs. I didn't know what it was about, but I didn't care much, either. Now I had the both of them in my clutches and I would be able to do what I liked with them in a matter of time. I turned over and stretched lazily.
Just imagine those two fighting over me. It was a thought that made my hot young body squirm all over. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure.
After that night, I gave both of them just enough to make them want more. And I wheedled them about this Hollywood thing.
"Don't you think I have beautiful things, Daddy?" I'd say, looking at myself in the tall mirror in my bedroom, and pushing my big globbies up with my hands.
He'd nod, looking at me kind of anxiously from the bed, probably smoking a cigarette.
"Don't you think I'd make a good movie star? I mean, after all, it isn't very fair to keep these big things all to myself, is it? When the world could enjoy looking at them so? Don't you think?"
"Don't talk foolish," he said sharply, not daring to be cross with me, and then I'd prance over to the bed, climb up, and just kind of lean over him so that he'd take one of my big dangling beauties into his mouth.
Then, as he went to town on it, I'd keep after him. "If I could go out there and get established, maybe you could come out in a little while, too."
"I couldn't leave the bank," he'd mumble.
And then I'd jerk it out of his mouth so that he'd lean forward, struggle after it. But I held it away from him.
"No, you can't have it until you agree to let me visit Hollywood for a little while!"
And he'd grope for my delicious youthful purity (? ) desperately, like a guy in a dream. "Anything...anything...." he said.
Mom was somewhat more of a problem. I had her wrapped around my little finger, too, but she was a pretty jealous type, and she didn't want me out of her house for a minute.
"No," she would say, "I will not permit it!" And she'd shake her head vigorously for emphasis.
I kept after her as long as I could, and then I went and cried to Dad about her. "Mommy won't let me go," I said, weeping to beat the band.
He seemed somewhat relieved by her resistance, I was sorry to note. "Well, your mother knows-"
I bawled all the louder. "I'm going to tell her all about what you've been doing to me!...Boo-hoo, seducing a poor innocent child... "
I can tell you, that brought him around in a hurry. If I had tried that on Mom, she might have gotten sore. Dad had a lot more to lose. Because Mom would be happy to get grounds for divorce, he could go to jail, lose all his dough, and a lot of other bad things could happen. Mom had a lot less to lose, if you see what I mean.
So I kept working on him and telling him how mean Ma was to me, and how she would always stand in the way of our happiness. He had never loved her anyway, so what was the diff? There was only one way we could work around her, and she had suggested that herself one night when, in response to my suggestion that she finance my trip to Hollywood, she hollered, "Over my dead body...."
Well, that wasn't such a bad idea. I mean, she was getting to be pretty nasty to me already, and I didn't think that was very nice.
So I started hanging out around the Plainville Drug Store and getting to know the clerk there, and getting to know something about sleeping potions, which was something that Mom doted on to an unusual degree.
I finally got just the stuff I needed.
Every night before going to bed, Mom's ritual was just the same. She would drop some sleeping potion stuff or other into a glass of seltzer and let it sit for a while, while she went into the washroom to take a shower. Then, when she'd come out, she'd down that creepy stuff at a gulp.
It was easy enough to just slip into her room one evening, put the lights down low, and drop in just a little something extra, something that would make her sleepier and dizzier than usual.
And it did, all right. She must have slept straight through for about thirteen hours, and when she woke up she looked like something that the cat had dragged in from out of the alley. She had crow's feet under her eyes, and her face had dark splotches all over it.
I'd just come in from school for lunch, and I went right up with a glass of milk for her, into which I also duped some stuff on the way up. She always liked a glass of milk when she woke up, and as soon as I got into the room I went to her with it.
"How do you feel, Mom?"
"What're you doing home from school this morning?" she asked groggily, in response to which I just kind of leaned over her and held her head as I made her drink the milk.
"Gee, Mom. It's lunch time already. You sure did sleep last night."
And I made her drink it down. In another few minutes she just kind of clutched my sleeve and popped off to dreamland again. I knew I had her now. My one obstacle to a great career, and she'd be out of the road in no time at all.
When I came home from school again, about three, I went to look in on her. Sleeping like a baby.
That's when the next part of my program began to go into operation. I woke her up.
She looked like hell, and she just kind of held onto my arms, real weak like.
"Gosh, what's wrong, Mom?" I asked, and I just kind of slapped her face around a few times to be sure she was really weak. I intended to keep her that way but good.
When I saw that she'd really had it, I was ready to operate. I went to her sewing kit for the knitting needles.
These needles have kind of hooks on the end, I don't know what you call them exactly I'm not exactly a little homemaker, you know.
But anyway, I proceeded to lift Mom's nightgown until she was bare right up to her cute little navel.
Then I started playing with the knitting hook...
"Ah!! " She cried out sharply, bolting upright and grabbing my shoulders.
I ducked the hook under the covers and tried to calm her. "Gosh, what's wrong, Mom?"
"Something...stuck me...down here...oh, that hurt... it was like fire... "
"You must be dreamin', Mom. Go on back to sleep." And then I kind of smoothed her forehead until she was silent again. Then I went to the washroom and got some water and towels. She was sweating across her forehead pretty badly. I kind of wiped her off for a little bit. I wouldn't want her to look too bad when Dad got home.
But then I went onto her a little more, too. I gave her the hook elsewhere and she screamed out loud, bolted upright, fell back into sleep again.
I raised her arm so that her armpit was clear.
And then I poked around again, where I knew she was sensitive. And she shrieked like a banshee again, right on schedule. I was beginning to enjoy this overmuch, and I could feel kind of a dull itching down below. I'd never dreamed that seeing somebody else in real pain could be so exciting.
So I poked her some more, and each time she woke up I gave her a cold towel over her forehead and told her she was having a terrible nightmare.
But best of all was still to come.
CHAPTER FIVE
I pushed up her nightgown again until it was well over her narrow, pear-like breasts. Then I pinched her nipples between thumb and forefingers. She winced a few times, but she was mostly inert. I put my mouth to a nipple and began to bite on it. I could fee! her breathing coming more rapidly and erratically.
Then I did what seemed like the natural thing to do. I tiptoed around looking for a straight pin, and finally came up with one. Then I returned to Mom. I primed up one nipple until it was good and hard, and then I picked up the straight pin-
She screamed out in terror and clutched me in a cold sweat. "Gosh, Mom," I said, "what a nightmare you're having! I'd better call a doctor ! "
I didn't, of course. Instead I just kept prodding her in sensitive places while she screamed, and each time she woke I'd make her drink a little more sleep potion. By the time Dad came home, she was a real mess.
He was really aghast to see her like that. There were no marks, you understand, but there was kind of a death-like pallor on her face, and she looked like death warmed over and ready for hell. I was pleased as punch.
"What's happened to your mother?" he said lamely as he looked down at her wasting body as if he cared a damn.
"She's been having nightmares," I said sweetly, and I put my "arm around his waist, nudging my big globbies against his chest, too.
He didn't like that too well with mother in the same room, but I reassured him, "That's okay, she's sleeping like a log, darling."
"Shouldn't we call a doctor?" he asked me weakly. I had begun to rotate my hand in a circle at a certain place on his trousers.
"Oh, sweetheart I don't think so. She's probably just tired." And with that I really grabbed him, and reached up for his neck, to pull his mouth down to mine.
We met in a sucking, grasping kiss, our tongues all over our two mouths, and his hands came up to fondle my breasts, which were already trembling with anxiety. We'd never made love around Mom before, and that excited me better than anything. Ever so slowly then, I pulled him down to the floor.
"Cynthia," he protested, "we can't your mother. . . "
I said something about what could be done with my mother, and he didn't need much coaxing after that. He pulled off my sneakers and rolled up my skirt, rolled off my bobby sox.
"Kiss my feet," I insisted.
"Cynthia-" he groaned.
"Kiss my feet, slave!"
And with that he humbled himself but utterly, mouthing and tonguing my feet as if they were the only pair left in the world.
"Pull off my panties!" I ordered.
And he reached up and ripped down my panties, looking reverently up at the golden vault of my love-temple, his mouth dropping.
"Cynthia you, you're beautiful!" And with that he lunged forward, his lips and tongue attacking with concentrated force the most achingly sensitive core of my beautiful being. I strained forward, my hands in his hair, as he found me, impelled him to give me more, more, cried out in my agony, wished him death for this beauty and delightful pain he was giving me, and then two thousand tons of t.n.t. rocked me as if they had been fired all the way from Mars toward this delicious center of all human desire...
I looked up at his drooling face. "Mommy was mean to me," I said. "We're got to keep her here until she consents to do as we say-" I put my tongue into his ear and washed it out for him. He shivered with desire.
"Isn't that right, Daddy?"
He nodded. And then we continued to make love while mummy snored peacefully.
I threw cold water into her face about ll p.m.
"Huh what?" She rose up and tried to clear her eyes. "What's happening?" she said.
"Mommy," I said, "will you let me go to Hollywood, let Daddy give me money for it ? "
She screamed insults and I had to push her down on the bed. She was weak as a kitten. I forced some more sleeping potion down her throat.
As she snored away, I very slowly tied her ankles and wrists to the bed posts with good strong rope. Then I lit a cigarette.
Our house was slightly out in the country in back of town, and it's a good thing, too. Because Mommy's screams would have wakened the dead.
Lucky Dad was a heavy sleeper, too. Because I had mother's legs spread wide with that tempting black fleecy thicket of hers staring me in the face, and somehow the burning cigarette got a little too close to her...
She screamed and screamed, and occasionally I had to hit her to make her shut up. Her armpits were terribly sensitive, and her navel, too, and between her legs, and I finally had to stuff a handkerchief into her mouth to keep her from biting her lips to shreds in her agony.
And, of course, I kept waking her up and feeding her sleeping potion at the same time. The human body needs sleep, and hers needed it more than most.
I didn't even let her up to go to the washroom, and the stink was terrific. She was filthy as a pig. Really disgusting for a decent mother like her.
Her eyes kind of sunk into deep hollows, and because she wasn't getting any food, either, she kind of shrunk up. I began to stick toothpicks under her fingernails and bang them in with a hammer to see if I could get any new effects. Good new sounds that way.
I finally left her alone, untied her, took out all my equipment, and went back to my own room to get a little rest for the night.
Dad woke me up early, though. He was standing over me and he looked awful, like all panic stricken.
"Your mother looks just awful," he said. "We've got to call a doctor!"
"She'll be okay," I said. And then I reached up and twined my arms around his neck, so he could smell my fresh young blonde hair and feel my big breasts with his hot hands. . "Are you sure?" he whispered.
"I'll stay home today to feed her and take care of her," I assured him.
And then we both got up and went downstairs. I fixed eggs and bacon for Mom, with toast and jelly, too, and plenty of butter. Then I took it upstairs.
As soon as I got upstairs, I flushed it all down the toilet.
When Dad came up to look at her, I told him, "She ate like an angel, Pop. And she told me she'll only sleep for a little while. So she'll be okay now. I'll stay home and look after her."
He looked doubtful, but I finally convinced him that it was the best thing to do. Then he left.
And now I was free to practice a little torture again. Nothing new, mind you. Just the reliable old standards burning cigarettes, toothpicks in her ear, knitting needles and hooks in all the wrong places and all the while her tied down to the bed and gagged up good. I got so excited at one point when her eyes opened that I fell back on top of her and used my fingers to quench my anxiety. She was really turning me on.
In a way, I was sorry that I'd have to lose her.
Dad brought the doctor home that evening while I was guarding her, and luckily every sign of anything wrong had been stowed away.
The doc said she was a very curious case. "Looks like she's in a coma," he said, peering at her eyeballs with a flashlight. Luckily I had cleaned up her bed and put a new sheet under her, too.
He finally prescribed a diet for her and plenty of rest. He even gave me some more sleeping tablets, which seemed kind of funny. What I didn't like was his suggestion that she might have to be hospitalized. I didn't like that one bit, and it meant that I had to work fast.
It didn't take long, though. After a few days of me tossing her food down the toilet, and bed sores from not changing position enough, and a few torture sessions, and waking her up every little too much sleep, Mom just kind of lost her marbles.
Of course I took a chance on letting her recover, but when she did, she was a raving lunatic schizophrenic. She got headaches and tried to attack things and people.
Finally, we just had to put her away.
Poor Mom.
I remember the day we finally had her locked up at the Bennington Lunatic Asylum. Dad and I came home and opened up a few bottles of cognac. I don't think either of us had ever felt better. With Mother out of the way, there was no limit to what I could do.
We made love on the carpet in the living room, and after that on top of the piano, and finally on the roof until we heard the drone of a helicopter nearby. Then we made it quick for inside and a couple of showers and couple of towels as we went, laughing all the time. When we finally got calmed down, I explained to Daddy how it would be.
I was on my knees leaning over him when I told him, my big globbies falling into his face and those clutching hands, my nipples a ripe, widened coral eager to know his mouth and tongue, my long blonde hair falling all over his excited middle-aged flesh.
I shook my finger at him as I sat down on him. "Now, your good little girl will go to Hollywood, and you'll get me money, and we can get a home in Bel-Air or someplace swanky, and you can join me there." And with each emphasis, I started jerking myself up and down on him. "Isn't that right, Daddy?" I prodded mercilessly.
"Yes...yes... " he groaned, unable to think for himself or do anything other than my bidding. And I was pleased as punch. I shook up and down on him, riding him like a stallion, until finally we reached it together and something popped in my ears like a great amen.
After that he insisted that I get down on the floor while he tried something just a little different. I was a little apprehensive, of course, being the sweet young thing that I am, but I did as he suggested and suddenly I was down on my hands and knees, my big things with their extended nipples brushing the carpet excitingly.
I wondered what was cooking when he disappeared behind me, but suddenly a flash of pain and pleasure made me terrifically aware of what he had had in mind all along.
He was in back of me with his nose buried into the sweet perfume of my hair, and lunging into me with dagger-like thrusts. I cried out and beat my sweet little fists on the carpet. "Daddy...oooohhhhhh...how...could...you... "
But it was really great with his warm, gray-haired chest on my silky hair and creamy back, his hands gripping my dangling breasts, his body giving me everything he had in him. And it was then that I first began to wonder if it was possible for a man to get a heart attack during a session like this...
I kind of gurgled from deep in my throat as we struck the ceiling of pleasure, and his body shuddered wildly without control...
We spent all that day just goofing off like that, and by nightfall we were really pooped. Mom's absence had really been a potent aphrodisiac. I don't think it incurred to me until much later that there were certain things about her that I was definitely going to miss...
I woke up in the middle of the night that night and combed out my hair in front of the mirror on my bureau.
In another three months or so, I'd be seventeen, so there was no time to waste if the world was to get to see these beautiful big things on my chest. And dig the beautiful dark thicket between my legs. All that was heaven and hell about me should belong to the world, too, I thought. And all that was Daddy's should eventually belong to me...
The next day I began preparing to leave. I was sixteen, so I could drop out of school if I felt like it. Anyway, summer was right around the corner, so no one would miss me for very long.
Dad was going to say that I was so broken up about Mother that he had sent me to live with an aunt in California. And that would be our story for what it was worth.
It didn't take long to shape up my duds. Good Daddy gave me all the money to get whatever new stuff I needed, and enough to get along and get some new stuff in Hollywood. All in all, things were going just swell.
I was sorry to hear that Mr. Taylor committed suicide shortly after I cut him off, but after all, that's the breaks. He was a weak jerk.
So I was ready to go. Goodbye Plainville. Hello the World.
Dad was pretty broken up about my going, so I had to give him a few good jolts before I left. Nobody else seemed much concerned, though. When I said goodbye to Reverend Stradlatter on the final Sunday, he just told me to be a good girl and to walk in the way of the Lord. Which was okay, except I had never watched the Lord walk.
I have to admit Cousin Harold was pretty broken up, though. He brought me some presents and gave me some money, and I helped him to make it the way he liked it best, and he kept trying to talk me into staying. But I needed to stick around him like I needed another hole in my cranium. He was going with some college gal who was Miss Clean beautiful and lovely, blonde-haired, clean-cut (she must have been) and All-American, tennis champion and all that bit, but apparently she was cold as December and didn't dig doing things in the great ways available. He'd probably marry that Miss Nothing because she was so all American, but he was such a normal male that he couldn't help digging me at the same time, wanting to grab my great little body and fool with it till he could hear bells go off in his head.
But who needed him? I was on my way. I kissed him off, but kept the trinkets.
I was on my way.
The train I grabbed just outside of Philadelphia was kind of left over from the War Between The States so far as its outside was concerned, with a cow-catcher on the front, and an engineer wearing a tall striped hat while his assistant shoveled coal and wood into the two-horsepower burners. But I didn't care. I clambered aboard, holding sweet Daddy's guiding hand, as if it were the Ritz.
It was a very tearful parting between us. Daddy cried, and I cried, and finally the little train just chugged away towards the horizon the way they do in the movies.
What a relief. I went back to my compartment and started doing my nails.
It wasn't long being cooped up in that compartment watching the cows and chickens and horses spin by in the countryside that I started to get a little claustrophobia. So I put on the tightest toreador pants I could find, high black heels, a gaping tight sweater, and dark glasses. I figured if I'm going to look Hollywood, I might as well start immediately, if not sooner, right?
Then I started for the bar.
I wasn't too familiar with bars all I knew was that if you were a woman of the female gender, you could have a lot of fun in them.
I'd never had the nerve to walk into any of the saloons in Plainville, partly because everybody knew I was under age, and partly because most of them were so old that their spitoons had dissolved.
But now I was free, white, and on the road, and I planned to make the best of it.
I hunted up the bar and took a seat on a stool, expecting low whistles from all quarters.
All I got was a bunch of double-ugly stares.
I looked around. All the men were in gray suits and black ties. They looked like refugees from a morticians' convention.
"Who are all these guys?" I asked the bartender, leaning forward just a little so he could get a glimpse of my beauties down my sweater.
"Utilities executives," he said blandly. "Big convention in Chicago."
I nodded. "Oh."
"You look like you've got plenty of utility yourself," he said.
"That's a possibility," I admitted. "How about a gin sling while I'm not being utilized?"
He was glad to serve me up one and didn't ask me for any i.d. I was so grateful that I tickled his palm with my index finger, and that seemed to turn him on. "What's your seat number?" he asked.
"Compartment X-B," I told him, and I sipped my drink without putting any money on the bar. This guy was kind of cute, and a welcome change to what I was used to. I was looking forward to what he could show me.
When I looked back at the utility boys, they turned away from me. I guess I didn't exactly look like the kind of girl you'd bring home to mother. After a little while I said to hell with them and returned to my compartment alone to manicure my toenails.
But I wasn't alone long. Before long there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I said, not caring a damn who it might be at this hour of confinement.
I was pretty pleased to see that it was the cute bartender, and I stood up right, my nice things kind of bouncing up under my sweater but then I saw that he had someone with him. "Hi," I said, plenty curious.
"Uh-hello," the bartender said awkwardly. He looked down at the other man, who was kind of a rough looking guy dark, swarthy complexion.
They both came in and shut the door behind them. I backed away kind of involunta rily.
"What is this, a raid?" I asked them.
They both smiled and looked at each other. The dark man started to say something, but the young bartender interrupted him. "I just wanted to introduce my friend here," he said. "Mr. PeSalvio, this is-" He looked at me with a meaningful pause.
"Cynthia Stone," I supplied agreeably enough, but I still wondered what was cooking
"Pleased to meetcha, Miss uh, Stone. May we sit down?" The dago held out his hand and I kind of shook it, then he sat down. The young guy kept standing.
"I've been telling Mr. DeSalvio what a nice-looking trick you are, Cynthia, and hoys he ought to meet you."
They looked at me pretty closely to see what kind of a reaction I was going to have to that.
"Yeah?" I said. I wasn't committing myself to anything. What were they after, anyway ?
"Mr. DeSalvio just wanted to have a chance to talk to you just to talk," the young guy said, watching me closely.
I still wasn't getting the message. "Yeah?" I said, wanting a cigarette. "Anybody got a cigarette while I'm waiting for you two guys to get to the point?" I asked.
That kind of surprised them, but they were quick about getting me a ciggy and a light. Then the young bartender finally made it, he finally put it to me.
"Miss Stone," he said to me in a kind of calculating way, "what we want to know is well, are you that is are you a virgin ? "
CHAPTER SIX
"Am I a what?"
Now they both really looked nervous, throwing glances at the door. "Now, don't get excited, Miss Stone," said the young guy. "It's just that well, Mr. DeSalvio thinks that you're an attractive young lady, and he wondered if well, that is... " The guy was at a loss for words, and I can tell you, I was pretty speechless myself.
DeSalvio broke in with, "That is, I just wondered if ya'd care ta be my guest at dinner, Miss Stone."
"Sure, why not?" I looked at the young guy. "Say, shouldn't you be getting back to your stand ? The whiskey might be gettin' cold."
He nodded nervously at both of us. "Uh sure thing, Miss Stone... See you later, Mr. DeSalvio... " And with that he kind of backed out.
So me and the dago were alone. I had a vague feeling that I knew what the pitch was, but I wanted him to come right out with it.
I sat back in my chair and watched the countryside speed by. So this was America. It didn't look so much different from Plainville, Pennsylvania.
"What line of work are you in, Mr. DeSalvio?" I asked amiably enough.
He spread out his hands. They were wide and dark, infested by huge, thick black hairs that covered the backs of his hands like a rug. He said, "I own a hotel and a casino in Las Vegas, right on the Strip."
"Oh." New respect in me for this guy. He would have to be a whaler. I didn't know exactly what a "casino" was supposed to be, but anybody who owned a hotel in a place as swanky as Las Vegas which was where all the movie stars went, said the movie magazines had to have plenty of loot. And maybe he knew some movie stars. And could help me get into moving pitchers, too.
I kind of smiled slyly at him. "Is that why you asked me if I was a virgin? Hiring new talent?"
He kind of gasped and looked at me. He wasn't no young guy closer to forty but he was dressed real well in a Hoobert Heever collar and sharp suit, white-on-white paisley tie, cuff links that glittered like with real diamonds, and a couple of shining little rings on his fingers. He had the brief, kind of wider-from-back-to-nose sort of face that typifies short guys, but his face was also kind of puffy in a funny way. He was balding plenty, with a dark-and-white widow's peak, and it didn't bother me at all that I could see where the barber had clipped his naturally hairy ears. What I really dug, I guess, was his eyes.
They were strange eyes. I had once seen a picture of a guy who lopped off heads in the Tower of London some time way back when, but this guy's eyes had them beat hollow. They were very black, large, and deeply set within the cavernous depths of his uneven skull. Looking into those eyes, shielded as they were by those fuckgy dark brows, you had the feeling that you could never see the bottom of them. They were an immense deep pool from which no light or life echoed ever.
He broke into a slow mile and opened up a gold cigarette case with his softly manicured nails, extracted a cigarette and lit it. "You're quite a girl," he said, "Miss uh... "
"Stone."
"Oh, yeah." He took a drag and looked at me pretty hard. "How old are ya, Miss Stone."
"Twenty-one."
He kept looking at me. I felt as if I was being undressed, and it made me feel kind of weak. This was not a big man, but small men weren't always necessarily small all over...
"Where ya headed ? " he continued. "I'm goin' ta Hollywood."
He kept smiling. "Gonna break into pictures, huh."
"Maybe."
He looked me up and down like he was going to devour me whole. "Well, you've got the looks for it."
"Get to the point," I said.
And this time, when he looked into my eyes, he saw that it was time he started really talking.
"Miss Stone," he said frankly, "you've got a wonderful body."
"No fooling."
"I've never told this to any other girl," he said demurely, and we both laughed. This guy was okay I liked him, liked the way he talked.
He went on, "If you're going as far as Vegas that's where I'm going, too I've got some clients that would be pretty interested to meet a nice young chick like yourself, and they'd pay a nice piece of change for the privilege. You could be a rich girl in no time."
"How rich?" This was starting to get interesting. Just as he started talking about making money with my beautiful body, I could feel a severe itch growing in my groin. I shook my legs to try to friction it out.
"Five hundred dollars for virginity, hundred dollars a night every night thereafter," he said coldly and without obvious feeling.
"In that case I might as well stay a virgin, it's worth more."
He laughed again. I liked the way he laughed and the way his cute cheeks dimpled. He had very broad, white teeth that one could easily picture snapping a lamb chop in two with a single bite.
"Look," I said, putting my hand on that broad knee of his, "this is all pretty interesting, but what do you say we get something to eat I'm starved."
"Okay, kid. Whatever you say." He stood up and pushed the service bell.
"Hey, what'd you do that for? Ain't we goin' to the dining car?"
"Naw what for? And this way we'll have a better chance to talk."
"Okay." I looked around. For the first time since this guy had entered my life, I felt nervous.
We had t-bone steaks that were just luscious, and Carlo that was Mr. DeSalvio's first name left the porter a pretty big tip. Then he lit an after-dinner cigar and kept talking.
"Like I say, Cynthia, if you want to stick with me, I can have you rolling in money in no time. And some of the biggest stars in Hollywood come to my place. All you need to do is be nice to them so they gamble a lot."
"Do you always pick up strange girls on trains?" I asked demurely, fluttering my long blond lashes at him.
He looked out the window at the deadly dull rolling countryside. "Well," he said, "the truth of it is, I wanted to take the train so's I could just relax for a little while. I've had a lot of business problems lately, so takin' the trains is a luxury wit me."
I squealed and he looked startled. "Oh, I'd much rather take a plane!" I said exuberantly. "They go so fast, and they're so exciting I'm sure they'd be grand fun!"
He mopped his brow. It was getting a little stuffy in here. "When you've rode them as much as I have, kid, you'll be glad to hit terra firma." He gave me a look. "Well, what about my proposition?"
I tried to look demure and innocent. "I don't think my parents would approve," I said softly.
He guffawed loudly, saying with good humor, "Yeah, that's a possibility."
We both stared out the window for a long time. Finally I ventured, "Who would pay, you or the people I'd... "
He shrugged. "Either way. Either way, you get paid. What's the difference? What were you going to do in Hollywood? Work as a carhop until you got your big break? Why wait? Why work for peanuts? I'm offering you your big break now." He tapped my knee. "Listen, kid," he said emphatically, "you're only young once make the most of your looks while you can. Chances that is, good opportunities don't come so thick and fast that you kin afford to turn 'em aside. Think about what I've said. At thirty a dame's no earthly use to anyone. You support yourself as a secretary or an odd-job gal, or you snare some dumb Joe who makes a hundred a week. But what I'm offering you some morning you kin wake up and find all yer streets paved with gold! Mark that well, kid!"
I didn't quite follow all he said, but I got the general drift. It was immaterial anyway, since I had decided already that I was going to take him up on the deal. I just didn't want to appear too eager. Men always liked to be teased a little; that excited them. I wanted to excite this guy because he smelled from money, oozed with it and that was what excited me. I could feel his money all over my thighs and crotch.
The only thing I was afraid of would he be able to tell that I wasn't a virgin? And also, if I let him have me outside of working hours, would I still get the usual fee ?
Well, regardless of whether I did or didn't, I was getting the hots for this piece of male meat plenty bad, just sitting across from those big strong hands of his...
Still, I liked to think about the money, too... Let's see...hundred dollars a day, at least three hundred days per year...that was...Gosh, I felt a sharp intake of breath as I figured it all out! Being a fallen woman didn't seem near as bad as it was painted!
"Well?" he said, still looking at me.
I put my smooth, delicate hand over his rough hand, just sort of caressing the hairs on the back of it. "Will you give me a little time to think about it, Carlo? Will you? Huh?"
"Why, sure baby as much time as you want." He stood up. "I'll be in compartment C-7 if you want me."
Well, that was a switch! Getting my pants in an uproar and walking out on me! Now I really needed him like he was the only doctor in town to fix my toothache!
I grabbed his arm. "Jeez, do you have to go so soon, Carlo? We wuz just getting to know each other." And then I gave him that look of mine that had made weaker men crumble into ashes.
But he was a little tougher than that. He just gulped, his adam's apple doing a little dance on his throat. "I'll be back later," he said, and then he was gone.
I wanted to call after him, "Don't stay away too long," but he was gone too soon. Slightly disturbed, I sat down at the dressing table and picked up my hairbrush.
Could I really pass for twenty-one? I looked at myself good. Jeez, I was beautiful. The big things on my chest seemed prouder than ever. I opened the buttons on my sweater.
I never wear a bra, because they're too confining you know what I mean? I liked to have men look at the proud way my breasts stood up, have them imagine the size and shape of my aureoles and the way my pink little love-tidbits would taste in their hungry mouths. Now as I spread my sweater open to look at those gorgeous things, I felt my own mouth water. They were really something.
Nice and firm. I hefted them in my dainty little hands, felt the hardening buttons with my thumbs, pinched them around a little. That was almost as good as when a man did it. I sort of sighed, or moaned, and dropped my head backwards it was so good. But then I got tired of that after a while and just shrugged the sweater to the floor, leaving my massive beauties unveiled in all their blinding glory.
Then I picked up my lipstick and painted the nipples and aureoles a sort of pink-and-carmine, hardening them up while I did so. Now they looked good enough for any man's mouth just like catnip.
Then I started on my hair.
I undid the childish ribbon in my hair and let it fall to the floor on top of my sweater. I'd had a bit of sun lately, so my hair was even finer, lighter, and more shining than ever. I'd even developed a white streak in a few places.
And was it long, because I'd never in my life allowed anyone to cut it. It fell in a straight yellow and white waterfall down to my rear end, which was shaped nicely enough to accommodate such a luxurious mane.
I combed it out so it would be long and fleecy, then I brushed it about a million times. People had often said I had the most beautiful hair in the world.
Then I began to unzip my toreador pants. They kind of fell away and there I was no panties at all! Would Papa-Daddy have been shocked to his banker's teeth!
I ran my fingers through the soft golden down below my belly and wished through clenched teeth that that guy Carlo would come back in a hurry.
But when he didn't, I decided to try out some other routines. I'm a bug for trying on clothes in ways that might seem funny.
I already was wearing hose, but I changed to black silk netted ones, then put on see-through sky-blue panties and attached the tabs. Then I rummaged around in my bags until I found a pair of black five-inch heels I'd been saving for Hollywood.
Boy, did I look sharp in that outfit! Any man who wouldn't have died to get me just then wasn't worth a damn!
And that was when I heard the knock on the door!
"Who is it?" I asked a little fearfully. "Carlo," came the voice. "Open up."
"Just a minute, Carlo."
I was so excited I couldn't stand it! A man in my compartment just at the exact moment when
I needed one! This would drive me crazy! Good old Carlo DeSalvio! Let's hear it for our Italian-American friends!
"You in there, baby?"
"Just a minute, Carlo! I'll be right there!"
I had to hurry around and get ready, because I didn't want him to come upon me like this, with everything laid out for him like a road map. That was too easy. Men don't appreciate anything that's too easy. So I had to put something over me. I chose a red negligee that I had swiped from my mother's file.
At last I murmured sweetly, "Come in, Carlo."
It was fast gathering into twilight, and the lights were not yet on in my compartment, but Carlo saw just enough to let out a long, low whistle. It must have been low, because I could feel my thighs tremble.
"Wow," he said.
"Is that all?" I asked him coyly, and I sat down to the mirror as if I were going to make myself up for the very first time.
"Baby, you're the most," he breathed, hoarse with wanting my great body.
I didn't say anything. I just applied pink lips from one of my lipsticks and applied enough rouge to look like a kewpie doll won at a carnival. I could see that the carnival was going to be in this compartment, tonight, though.
I combed out my hair again for his benefit -, too.
"You've got a mane like a lion," he said, coming up behind me and fingering it. "You look like a schoolgirl."
I didn't say anything. Just put some light green mascara on my eyelids, brushed up my eyelashes so they were longer and darker, spread some of Mother's favorite and most sexy perfume all over my body until the room was thick with it. I even put some under my armpits for good measure, and down below...just in case he wanted to...
I didn't have to wait long for him to take action. He took off his coat, ripped off his cuff links, and suddenly his big hairy arms were around me and his thick, gross lips were mashing mine like there was no tomorrow.
Wow! At first I didn't go for his roughness, but then I found that it excited me and made me itch more than ever. This guy was all male, not like the other pansies I'd been dealing with.
I felt his thick tongue come in and surround mine, nearly climbing down my throat. His mouth was so wet I could've taken a bath in it. Then he was lifting me up from the stool, his rough hands gripping my fanny, clenching and unclenching those two sensitive globes of mine and driving me wild! My legs flew up around his hips like they had a mind of their own, and they held on for dear life while I inserted my hot pink tongue into his ear, moaning, "Oh...give it to me, Daddy...please...ooooohhhh... "
He must have gotten his fly open without me even noticing it, he was so fast, and suddenly there was something hard as iron prying at my panties as if they were going to rip them to shreds. With just a twist of my index finger, I pulled part of my panties aside so he could...oooooohhhhh! That was great... !
I climbed him and rode him like I was at Hialeah, and he was in deep as a stone. I never dreamed anything could touch bottom like that, or so completely fill me up. He had me propped up against the dressing table, but neither of us seemed to mind. I was so high I could have gone off trying to do it on the ceiling. That brutish body of his pounded punishment into me like I was a murder suspect in a Chicago police station. But I loved it. The worse he abused me, the better I liked it. My beautiful blonde head just swam with ecstasy, and I thought smoke would come out of my ears when suddenly...
...Aaaaahhhhhhhhh...
I made it and he kept coming on. This guy really had it. After a few moments I was keeping pace with him, my throat gurgling with ecstasy at this kick, and I was saying a lot of things I'd never believed myself capable of saying...wild things...I didn't believe I was really me...and all the way he kept...until...oooohhh!...Aaaaahhhh...
I climbed down from him, bathed in a cold sweat. I was sweating all over, and I clung to him like he was a life preserver. Any guy who could do that for me deserved a gosh-darned medal...
"Let's get this bed made up," he said, and he rang for the porter.
He sat there coolly smoking a cigarette all the while the porter made up the bed, and I could have kicked him. A poor sweet kid like me, having to stand the look in that colored guy's eyes...
He tipped the guy a dollar and then we were alone again.
"You brute" I whimpered.
He laughed and made himself comfortable, stretching out on the bed. "Take off my shoes," he commanded.
I did. And then I rolled down his sox. We both unbuckled his trousers and pulled them off him.
Gosh, he was the hairiest guy I'd ever seen. He had black hair thick and curly all the way up from his ankles. We slipped off his coat, I undid his shirt, off with the undershirt, and there he was, in all his massive glory.
What a chest, and what thick black hair. He looked more like a gorilla than a man.
Then I took down his shorts. Wow.
"Come on, honey," he whispered, his hands in my hair, and I knew what he wanted. I shrugged off my negligee and pressed my big breasts into his thighs, let my golden hair fall all over him, tickling him like mad. He liked that and reached for my head. Before long my hair was all over his thighs and I rubbed each big globbie against his inner thigh. That seemed to turn him on something tremendous, and suddenly I had something so sweet, so cloyingly delicious that it drove me wild...
But he was still game. What a stud!
I broke off from him and pranced around while he watched me, then I kicked off my high-heeled pumps, undid my tabs, and slowly rolled down my black silk hose. This really got him, I could see.
Now I reached into the waistband and fucked down my panties, stepped out of them. I was bold as a newborn babe.
"Baby," he murmured in admiration, "you're the hottest! Come to papa!"
And I came. I kind of straddled him so he could take on big globby in his mouth and play with the other, and then I rode him until we couldn't take no more and we finally fell asleep, with each other.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was morning at the train rattled into Chicago. He still had one of my big things in his greedy mouth. My nipple was sore from the way he'd been pulling on it. I disengaged his teeth as gently as I could and went to the window.
Wow! So this was a big city! Was it ever! Golly, I saw more things walking around in pants on those streets in those few moments than I'd seen all of my life around Plainville.
They were plenty glad to see me, too, I can tell you that. Guys on their way to work waved and whistled even though I couldn't hear them. Whole rows of people, both men and women, on buses and waiting on street corners, took a look at my big babies and made the funniest faces you ever saw. I waved to the men, but the women didn't look too friendly, so I left them alone. I just pranced up and down in front of the window while all those snorting stallions got a good look at me. Then I pulled down the shades. After all, a girl's got to have some modesty and besides, I wanted to dress.
My gorilla friend was waking up, and it was a good thing, too. I was starved. I picked out a blue-and-white polka dot pleated skirt that I thought would please him, slipped into a fresh pair of yellow panties and threw the old blue ones into his snoring face. He seemed to like that, and a kind of happy look came over his face as he inhaled through that sheer gas mask.
He groaned a little and turned over in the bunk. I leaned over him and let one of my melons move around on his shoulder. "How about a little breakfast, mmm ? " I asked.
He only groaned for an answer. It was then, as I turned away from him with a little shrug, that I noticed the revolver.
It wasn't a very big gun, but seeing it hanging there in its brown leather holster hit me in the stomach like a fist. I gasped, then finally got up enough nerve to approach it.
I picked it up out of the holster and looked down the barrel. I didn't know much about guns except what some kid in school had taught me, but I knew enough to know that a small-barreled baby like this one wasn't used for hunting or target practice.
I kind of spun the barrel a few times for kicks, but nothing happened so I put it away. I resolved that I was going to be even nicer to this guy than I had been. Gangsters were kind of interesting that is, if they didn't get around to killing you.
"What're you doin' there!"
I whirled around as if I had been shot. He was leaning up on his elbow, glaring at me. "No-nothing Carlo."
"Keep away from that gun!" he told me, and he leaped out of the bunk, came over across the room.
"I'm sorry don't hit me I was just looking at it."
"Well, don't get too curious." He brushed me aside, took the holster off the door hook, and put it on a chair under his coat.
"Why do you carry a thing like that, anyway?"
"I got an inferiority complex," he laughed, then he peered under the shade. "Holy ineptitude,-" he said. "Where is we?"
"We is I mean, we're in Chicago."
"Chicago!"
He hurried around getting dressed, doing everything in super-quick time.
"What's the hurry?" I blurted.
"Stupid, when you're this deep into Chicago, it means we'll be gettin' off the train in a minute."
"What for?"
"To change trains. Get yer stuff together."
"Gosh, I didn't know we changed trains!"
He gave me a kind of funny look. Finally he just shook his head. "Get dressed, Cyn."
Which I did, of course, because I was brought up to be very obedient to my elders.
The rest of the trip wasn't very eventful, unless you considered Carlo's rolling stock. We paused in Chicago for a little while, Carlo made a lot of telephone calls, and introduced me to some nice Italian men who met him there.
Gosh, they were good looking! Real dark, the kind you never see around Plainville; and beefy, and talking out of the sides of their mouths the way Chicago gangsters do in old movies. I thought they were sort of clever. Just average Chicagoans, but they talked like gangsters!
It was a cheery goodbye as we waved off to those fellows and the other guys that seemed to hang around wherever we were.
These guys that just "hung around" were always reading newspapers or smoking, or buying something at a cigar stand, and the thing that made me feel that they must be with our party, was that they never looked at us. You know, most people have a normal interest in other people, and certainly in kids put together as well as I am, but these guys didn't, they just were kind of "around."
I think Carlo referred to them as "fuzz," which I kind of guessed was Italian for "friends who don't talk much." Anyway, we were soon on our way away from the big city.
The countryside was exciting on the way to Las Vegas, that is, what I got to look at of it. Carlo was giving me such a deliciously hard time most of the time that I didn't have much time for peeps out the window. But what I did get to see was pretty nice big mountains and stuff and evergreens like what don't exist around Plainville. It was pretty neat.
Carlo was pretty neat, too, and before we hit Vegas we got a few things straight between us. One of which was my virgin fee. I think he had a few doubts about the propriety of my claim at first, but finally I bawled so hard that he came up with the five hundred easy as pie.
"I'm crazy about you, kid. You're the hottest," he would say.
And personally, I had to agree with him. What man could be more right?
Las Vegas.
What a thrill playground of movie stars and other assorted millionaires. And it was all going to be mine shortly! All because of these big watermelons on my chest. Oooh, I loved them to pieces for being so good for me!
Las Vegas is kind of like a shiny necklace out on the desert. One minute you're in the middle of nowhere just a lot of sand and rock and the next there's a lot of glitter just like stars had come down and sat right down in the middle of the desert for a while.
I guess I'd had some ideas about what Las Vegas must be like, but they were none of them like this. It was just too much one thing to see a picture in a magazine and quite another to be surrounded by all the glitter and glory of it!
And Carlo seemed to be a pretty important man there, too. You can believe that I hung onto his arm for dear life.
Even the people at our hotel knew Carlo I guess that's because he owned it. The moment we entered the Hotel Tahiti he started handing out silver dollars to anyone and everyone who got in his path. It was really thrilling to be with someone so important and with all that dough.
I'd seen the Hotel Tahiti in fan magazines, but I'd never dreamed it was anything like this! For one thing, it was absolutely immense, about a dozen stories high, with swimming pools all over the place, and a gambling palace downstairs with roulette wheels and other games that were strictly out of the movies. And I swore to pete that I kept seeing familiar faces from movies! I was thrilled down to my very core, if you know what I mean.
"Okay, baby," Carlo said as he deposited me in our suite overlooking the glittering Strip, "this is your pad. I'll call you later and send up some clothes for you. Get rid of that little girl stuff."
And before I could say anything, he was gone.
I didn't like that sort of gruff treatment from anyone, and that kind of ordering around. I had a good mind just then to go right on to Hollywood.
But I was kind of curious about Vegas everybody calls it that so I said, what the hell ?
I got out all my clothes and looked it over, kind of wondering what he'd get for me, and wondering what I should throw away. But I couldn't find anything I wouldn't miss besides, I knew I'd need those tight sweaters and toreador pants and-
There was a knock at the door.
"Hello?" I said sweetly.
"Open up, it's Adrian," came a husky voice.
Adrian? Who in the hell was Adrian? "I don't know any Adrian," I said innocently.
"I'm Mr. DeSalvio's wardrobe mistress. He sent me up here to fix you up and see what you need. Open up."
Oh! Sent from Mr. DeSalvio! That was different!
I opened the door in a hurry. "Do come in."
And then I stopped dead in my tracks. Because I was looking into the hot green eyes of the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
I don't know how to describe Adrian. I guess you'd start with the fact that she was tall and work down from there. She had very square shoulders that vee'd down into a very slender waist, and wide flaring hips that swam lazily downward through excitingly long thighs, slender but muscular calves, and tapered lovingly in a pair of small ankles and dainty feet. Everything that my Mommy-Mother had ever been able to arouse in me I felt flare up at just the sight of this exquisite goddess of love.
But she didn't even seem to notice me. She just walked by me as if I didn't even exist and strode right toward the closet.
She began tossing things onto the floor that I had just hung up, saying such things as 'This goes and this and this... "
"Hey, wait a minute," I screamed out loud. "I just put that stuff in there... "
She whacked me across the face so badly with the back of her hand that I thought I'd have a concussion. The first moment she wqs just standing there, and the next she had delivered a blow that sent me reeling. I had never seen a person move so fast.
I staggered backward, finally slipped and fell to the floor, everything on me bouncing like crazy. But she didn't seem to notice. She was still pulling things out.
This woman fascinated me. No one had ever laid a hand on me before that is, if you know what I mean and I was surprised to find that the prospect of a beating had excited me. I felt more aroused now than I had been just looking at the beautiful jut of her fabulously rounded rear end and that had been plenty. I really went for this big woman in a big way and I hoped she wouldn't take too long in getting around to those needs of mine that had nothing to do with how I dressed...
I felt my face and just sort of sat there on my fanny for a while, grateful that she hadn't broken anything.
She had a nice posterior. All of a sudden I wanted to crawl over to it and just sort of throw my arms around it and hug it.
She had beautiful hair too not quite orange and not quite red but sort of a burnt auburn somewhere in between. It was very luxuriant and thick, and hung down her back kind of wavily. It wasn't as long as mine, but it came to just above her waist, and I wanted to crawl over and bury my face in it. I knew that it would smell delicious and be nice to touch.
That wasn't all there was about her, either. She was wearing a perfume I'd never smelled before a sort of combination of Tigress and Tabu, and it filled the room like musk, just kind of swimming around my head and carrying me away with it. That scent made my flesh so lazy I would gladly have done anything for her just then.
"You have to get rid of all this junk," she said laconically.
What junk? Why, I dressed beautifully I knew it from the way men and boys and women and girls and others looked at me. So what was so terrible about my wardrobe?
She looked over at me and I sort of trembled. "Get up, stupid," she said.
I got up, with mounting terror in my sweet little heart. My breasts felt all agitated and trembling.
She walked over to me like a buyer in a slave market, her hands on her hips, a kind of swagger in her movements.
"So you're the little piece Carlo brought from the East. That's a laugh." She looked me coldly in my deep blue eyes and her wide nostrils kind of flared in a way that was exciting and dangerous all at the same time for me.
I nodded and said nothing.
She put her fingers under my chin, and a wave of lassitude swept through me like a tidal wave hitting a beach. "What's your name sweetheart?" she asked.
"Cynthia S-Stone," I stammered, everything in me and on me quivering like crazy.
"Cynthia Stone? A name like that will make the boys think you're a hard type."
I smiled slyly. "Do you think I look like a hard type?"
For the first time her eyes seemed to really see me. She gave me the up-and-down, all-over-and-around look that made me want to scream it made me itch so bad.
She smiled, too. "Pretty smart, aren't you, Cynthia?"
I just smiled.
But she turned sour again. "But brains aren't what we need here do you hear me!" She stalked around the room like a tiger, and suddenly I was all afraid again. "We need girls like baby dolls who know how to make a man happy!" She pointed the long nail of her index finger at me. I noticed that her nails were a dark carmine. "Do you fill that bill, Cynthia? -I don't think so!"
She was so merciless that I thought I was going to cry, right there, too.
She lifted my chin again. "Look at me when I speak!"
I did look at her. She had the most beautiful patrician nose I'd ever seen, and the most exciting red mouth. I could see the little pink membrane of her tongue moving in back of those moist red lips, and her long black lashes fluttered on beautifully high cheekbones. Those wide green eyes held me transfixed like a butterfly impaled on the collector's pin. I couldn't have said anything had I wanted to.
"Before we're done with you, you'll know how to make a man happy, all right but first we've got to do something about that name of yours." She looked very thoughtful for a moment, then she brightened. "I've got it," she said, "from now on you're Cyn Louvere!"
Cyn Louvere?
"That's right Cyn Louvere. It's got a French sound to it." She waved a hand grandly and moved towards the door. "I'll be back in a little with some clothes for you and a few lessons. In the meantime, try to get used to that name." And then she was gone.
But she didn't return. Two bellhops brought up my new clothes about a couple hours later, and I gave each of them a tip if you know what I mean. Then I got dressed, doing up my hair rather imagine and putting on a white brocade gown that dropped in the front almost to my navel. I didn't mind because that gave me a good opportunity to show off my jouncy juicy things, if you know what I mean. I put on a pair of five-inch heels and headed for the casino.
But I didn't have much luck there. Neither Adrian nor Carlo DeSalvio were around, and I didn't have any money on me, so I didn't know what to do. It wasn't long, however, before someone spoke to me.
"Hello, baby, want a drink?"
Yes, and that wasn't all I wanted. I looked into a pair of the blazingest dark eyes I'd ever seen, in the head of a very effeminate man sitting at the bar.
"Sure," I said.
I sat up on the stool next to him and introduced myself. "I'm Cyn Louvere," I said coyly.
"Just call me Max," he said in a soft voice. "What's your pleasure?"
I'd heard of a drink called a gin sling, and I ordered it, then I gave a little more attention to the man sitting next to me.
He was tall, about six foot, with thick wavy black hair and a very soft-looking face. He was wearing a double-breasted blue blazer with an emblem of something or other on it that I couldn't make out.
We talked for a while, and finally he asked if we could go someplace and be alone. The familiar way he put his hand on my knee made it almost imperative, because I hadn't had any loving since last night, and I just trembled and shook my legs back and forth when he touched me. I agreed in a hurry.
But we had a surprise waiting for us, because Adrian was waiting for me when I got back, her red hair accentuating the fury in her face.
"Where have you been?" she asked, stamping her foot.
"Well I...."
"With me," Max broke in, stepping forward. "What's it to you, sister?"
Adrian gave him her icy eyes. "You'd better beat it if you know what's good for you, buster."
Max laughed and stepped right up to her, pushing his own pretty mug into her face. "And if I don't, what then?"
Adrian didn't waste any words. She gave him a karate chop on the back of the neck and a sharp knee into the groin. I was mortified at so much violence.
But Max went down on one knee for only a moment, and then he looked up at her with a funny smile on her face. "That was a nice kick, sister. And it would have worked if you'd tried it on some guy I"
I didn't quite get what Max meant by that, but what he did after that explained everything.
Suddenly he threw off his coat and began rolling up his sleeves, and from the bulge in his shirt I could see that Max wasn't a man at all Max was a woman!
"You asked for it, baby," he said as he approached Adrian. I had to hand it to the redhead, though, she didn't budge an inch...until she was hit. Max doubled up her fist and let fly, battering the side of Adrian's head so that she went down.
"So you wanted to play, did ya?" Max said, looking down at her. "I'll show you how." And with that she reached down and slapped Adrian right across the teeth. She continued slapping and kicking her until Adrian was knocked senseless, a thin trickle of blood trailing from her darling luscious mouth.
"Come on, help me with this," Max told me, and he grabbed her legs.
"Max, what're you doing!"
She got fierce. "You'd better help me or you're going to get a good beating, too!"
I quivered with terror and ran over to help. We picked up Adrian and laid her out on the bed. Then Max unloosened a whip that she had been wearing around her waist. I trembled at the sight of it. It was a kind of leather snake, and it looked just dreadful. "What-what are you going to do with that?" I stammered.
For answer, she lashed out with it and slashed the back of my dress. I screamed out loud.
"Any more questions?" she asked me.
"N-no," I trembled.
Then we proceeded to undress Adrian, and a more magnificent love goddess never lived. Slowly we undid the top of her suit, then ripped off her blouse to reveal encased in a flimsy bra the most adorable pair of jouncy pears. I couldn't repress a swell of excitement as I fumbled with her brassiere hooks.
"Nnnaaahhh, that isn't the way you do it," Max said, and then she ripped the bra right off Adrian's bare, quivering body. I was so excited I could barely stand it. The sight of Adrian's helpless and breathtaking creamy nudity made me shudder with desire. I hastily went to work on her skirt, had it unzipped in a moment, pulled it down over her glistening silk stockinged long legs.
Max ripped the tabs right out of her stocking, whipped off Adrian's shoes, and ripped her stockings right off of those shimmering beautiful legs.
And then we both tugged at the waistband of her panties.
I gasped! That such auburn-haired loveliness could exist was absolutely maddening. I started to move toward that beautiful quivering stillness when Max stopped me.
"Wait a minute!" she commanded imperiously. She flung the whip down on the floor. "This beauty's got too much. I don't wanna cut her up too badly. She disappeared into the bathroom and was back in a moment with a hot wet towel that she was wringing out savagely.
"Now we'll see just how this baby likes it-" she said, and I closed my eyes against the horror that was to come...
CHAPTER EIGHT
The first slap with that stinging hot towel across Adrian's bare breasts brought her quickly awake.
"What who ahhhhh!"
As she screamed, Max leveled her even harder, her evil eyes glowing with something unmentionable. Again and again the wet towel slapped against Adrian's bare flesh across her breasts, across her gleaming white buttocks, across that creamy back and those opulent sweet legs, across her belly, shoulders, and crotch. Each time she cried out in pain and tried to grab the towel, but Max was too fast and strong for her.
Finally she was a quivering, helpless mass of jelly. Max raised the stinging towel over her head and Adrian cringed back in terror.
"Had enough, slave? Ready to do my bidding?" Max asked.
"Yes, yes anything!" came the sobbing, choked-up reply from the redheaded voluptuary.
"Get my coat, baby," Max ordered me, and I hurried to comply.
But as I picked up her coat, I discovered something very strange.
There was a shoulder holster sewed in against the right sleeve. Oh, I hoped she wasn't going to shoot poor Adrian!
"Gimme that coat, and be quick!"
I quickly passed it over to her. Max reached into the shoulder holster and came up with the oddest looking object I'd ever seen. Then she began to undress.
I really began to appreciate this man-woman now. She had the shoulders of a man, but huge pendant breasts that any woman would have been proud of. I felt my heart quicken as I studied her strong legs and well-formed buttocks. And I couldn't repress a shudder of desire or the craving to put my arms around her and attach my mouth to those succulent coral love-tidbits that stood up so proudly on those huge love-globes.
And now Max was attaching the strange object she had removed from the shoulder holster. I was stunned. What the devil sort of? She fitted it up around her buttocks and under that thick thatch of black thicket, and then she moved toward the helpless Adrian with an insane singularity of purpose that held me spellbound...
"No no--! " Adrian cried out in horror.
"Yes, yes," Max mimicked lasciviously, and then she mounted Adrian and forced her legs apart with those powerful hands. Adrian gasped, and then to my amazement her beautiful body jerked forward and suddenly her legs and arms were wrapped tightly around Max and their bodies moved swiftly into the motions of love so that, everything about them straining for heaven, I heard their cries of simultaneous joy only seconds after Max had found her...
I hadn't ever before seen used the wonderful object that Max was wearing. As she separated from Adrian, I went over to study it.
"This interest you, sweetheart?" she asked me, touching it with her fingers.
I nodded eagerly.
"Take off your clothes and join the fun," she insisted with a cruel smile.
I felt my heart leap, and I hurried to comply then slowed down as I saw the hungry look on Max's face. I went to the console radio and turned on some music.
Adrian was murmuring something into Max's ear, her eyes looking very drowsy and contented, her arms clutching Max tightly as if she had found a valuable prize. I felt remotely jealous as I began to dance in time to the music.
I bounced and wiggled, unzipping the dress in the back and slowly leaving it, like a burlesque dancer might do. I did a few bumps and grinds and slowly dropped it to the floor. Max whistled and applauded boisterously.
I had worn a bra to push up the tops of my succulent warm melons, and now all in time to the music I reached in back of it and unhooked myself, so that my breasts swung free in all of their blinding glory.
Max whistled. I could see the nipples of those huge soft breasts of hers hardening up again, and that made me feel all sweet and excited inside.
I continued to dance, cupping and pushing up those huge warm globbies of mine, nuzzling my face against them, swinging them back and forth, pinching my sweet little nipples until they hurt and grew into sweet little soldiers. I picked one up and took its nipple right into my own mouth, and I could see that this was driving Max crazy. Then I reached down for my panties.
"No! Let me do that!" Max cried out, and she leaped off the bed and ripped my panties to shreds in her eagerness to get at my golden love vault. When she did I couldn't contain myself any longer. I wrapped my legs around her and felt her assault my beautiful body...
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh...." I cried out as she joined me, ripping every nerve ending from my throbbing flesh. She carried me back to the couch with my legs wrapped around her, and instead of falling onto it, we just hit the arm rest and then I couldn't take no more...I cried and screamed and begged for her...ooooohhhhh...that was soooo good...aaaaaahhhhhh...She ground me and pounded me until I felt as if I were down to a fine powder...
"Aaaaajjhhhhh... " I gurgled, dying of desire as each new thrust brought me nearer and nearer...and then I went up, up, right into the heavens, and there was a blinding light like nothing I had ever known before...
After that we returned to the bed with our arms around each other, kissing and cajoling. Max was very dear. When she kissed me, her hot tongue entered my mouth and wrapped itself around my tongue in a way that gave me the shivers. And her hands pinched and fondled my aching breasts in a way that drove me wild.
As we reached the bed I laid down next to the drowsing titian-haired goddess Adrian, reaching over to fondle her. As I did so, Max bent down and began a very delicate wooing at the soles of my feet. Her tongue and hot mouth moved up my calves, then the very sensitive insides of my upper thighs. A heady, drugging scent rose from the heat of my young teen-aged body.
"Aaaahhhhh...."
I gripped Max's head as her tongue made me feel...and then I cried out, I moaned, my beautiful blonde head wagged from side to side as she continued...
She lifted her mouth to my belly and darted her silver tongue into the little kiss-nook of my navel. I winced and gripped her tighter.
"Take them!" she commanded as her breasts swung up over me. They were so rich, full and good looking I took one immense globe into my hungry mouth, my hands feeling that delicious terrifying body of hers, finding the spot where she was most sensitive to my eager fingers...
Slowly she began to ride me, my mouth still taking greedily those enormous aureoles and love-nubs, and then I could see that she was making it...
Sweat broke out all over that handsome face of hers, and, eyes glowing, she bent down to help me again... This time her mouth was worse than ever...It was excruciating torment... My entire young body seemed to be convulsed... I reached out for Adrian's nipples and pressed them, pinched them in my fingers...I was making it...a warm sensation like flame over a volcano shot up through my young being... I struck the top of something, careened off of it, and then flew off into time and space to a place so devastatingly beautiful and wonderful and sweet that every nerve ending in my body sang out from the joy of it...
When I awoke, I was surprised to find Max engaged in the same kind of stimulating activity with Adrian, her head bent in deep concentration to the wound of the redhead's aching flesh.
Adrian was just coming out of her slumber, and following an impulse as old as time, I did something I had wanted to do from the first moment I had seen her. I planted my mouth on hers, pressing, feeling, wetting her mouth, drawing her up into the circle of my arms, feeling her beautiful pear breasts press against my own mammoth darlings, nipple to exciting nipple...my hands in her red hair, her arms in my long blonde hair...and Max all the while, concentrating...bring her to a pitch...
Suddenly she screamed and began to convulse. I put my hot tongue into her ear and helped her along. After shuddering for about five minutes, she hit it, cried out in happiness, and began the steady return to earth...
We lay around for a long while that afternoon, just lazying and enjoying ourselves. I can't remember when I'd had a nicer time.
But I couldn't help but think that all of this frenetic activity was bringing me not one little bit closer to Hollywood. After all, a girl had to have some goals, don't you think?
I swung my long white legs off the bed and got up. I took a shower, feeling that terrific water cool off my throbbing young body. Working out with Adrian and Max had left me numb but when did the money start ?
The telephone rang and I picked up a towel, racing out of the bathroom.
Adrian had reached it first. Max was sitting up in bed smoking a cigarette. Except for those great globbies on her chest, she looked more like a man than any man I had ever seen. She had a kind of cruel mouth that twisted into a snarl when she spoke, and her face was pock-marked, her nose broken as if from a fight. She wore a skull and crossbones ring on one finger that she hadn't yet removed, and she had a pair of tattoos in a couple of the oddest places...
"Hello?" Adrian was saying nervously, darting quick glances at myself and Max. "Yes, Carlo, she's here yes, she can take a customer. Good. I'll be down right away. All right, I'll bring it. Goodbye."
Max smiled nastily. "Who was that? Carlo DeSalvio?"
Adrian didn't answer her. "You'll have to get out of here," she said.
Max snapped her fingers. "Get me a cigarette."
At the imperious tone in her voice, Adrian rushed to comply. She knelt at Max's feet and laid her head against the other woman's knee while Max fondled her breast.
"Max," she whimpered, "we have to get out of here. Someone's coming up for Cyn."
Max gave her a hungry kiss, then snapped her head away.
"Okay, baby. We can have our fun elsewhere while the kid puts away a little bread." She slapped Adrian's fanny. "Go on get dressed."
I got dressed, too, because I knew that I would have to start dressed with the customer. I hadn't had my complete training session with Adrian as she had promised, but I had the feeling that I could handle the situation well enough...
Still, I could see that I wasn't going to enjoy this much. How could I, after all of this action with Max and Adrian.
The two of them got dressed and left without a word. I felt desperately hurt after all we'd been to each other!
I guess most of all I was hurt because this swell young body wasn't driving people crazy the way it did back in Plainville. It seemed as if Vegas was a lot more hip to neat stuff-stuff with just as much greatness as I had. That rather peeved me.
The call came somewhat later, as I was sitting on the bed all dressed and ready to go.
"Hello," said the masculine voice over the telephone, "this is Reno, Mr. DeSalvio's assistant. Get down to Room 308A and make it snappy."
The man who opened the door to Room 308A was so old and had such a sweet smile, that I just couldn't be afraid of him.
"Room service?" he asked gently with a toothless grin in his wizened old face.
"Yes sir," I said.
"Come right in, girly. Right this way. Yes sir." I followed him inside. This suite, like my own, was real luxurious, and what's more, it overlooked the swimming pool down in the center of the first floor pavilion.
"Come on in, girly, don't be shy."
I figured that he must be around seventy-eight, but that didn't bother me in the least. What bothered me was that I might give him a heart attack, and that would never do. I looked longingly out the window at the bathers below, who seemed to be having such a good time.
"Come on, baby, just sit down." He patted the edge of the bed with that gnarled old hand of his, and I sat down, lifting up my skirt a little so he could get a glimpse of my creamy white thighs.
"That's a good baby. You know you remind of my dotter, Matilda, when she was just a little girl oh, about sixty years ago... " He put his arm around my shoulders and drew me toward him, licking my neck. "Baby like a little drinkee before we get down t' the main business, dotter?"
"No thank you, kind sir. I just want to do my duty and go home."
"Sure enough." He stood up and tottered over to the liquor cabinet, his billfold falling from his pants pocket as he did so. I picked it up and was about to hand it back to him when green stuff sticking out of it caught my eye.
It was money! $5,000! Gosh, that could go a long way toward my career!
He came back to the bed and I slipped the billfold under my seat quickly. He was carrying a drink and proceeded to gulp it down in a hurry. I wondered desperately how I might manage to get away with the dough. While I was thinking about that, I put my hand on the center of his trousers.
For an old geezer, he was in swinging shape! Yikes, Sandy!
I wouldn't stop, all right. I'd keep going until he was finished, then I could leave him to rot and catch a plane for Los Angeles.
I unzipped his trousers and dropped my head. He was pretty well barnacled, but he felt everything I did to him. That old head of his lolled backwards in ecstasy while I drew him out...
"Oh, dotter!" he exclaimed, gripping me tighter, those gnarled old fingers twisting my blonde curls until I thought he'd pull them right out of my head...
And then I took the sap of life from him and he shuddered beautifully, then fell back breathing heavily.
"Ooooh, you sure kin do that, honey," he murmured in reverence, curling his hand on my neck.
I came forward and gave him a sucking kiss on that aged mouth. If he had caught me earlier in the day I would have taken a few kicks from him myself.
But as it was, I was in a hurry. I didn't need Carlo DeSalvio now all I needed was that billfold. So I forced the old man down on the bed and lifted up my skirt.
No use he was too soft. I had to take off his clothes and kiss him all over before I could get any action, then I pulled my panties aside and just sort of sat down on him.
I rode him for all he was worth and he must have made it a dozen times.
What stamina for an old geezer!
"That's enough-" he kept saying. "-What're you trying' ta do, dotter? Murder me?"
"Oh, come on," I'd answer, "a young plug like you's gotta have more juice in 'im than that...." And then I'd start to work him up again...
But along about the fourteenth time I suddenly had a funny taste in my mouth. I looked up at him to see a huge blue vein in his temple throbbing mercilessly. His eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling in kind of a fixed way, and his hands on my shoulders were still unusually tight. I tried to pry them off, but it was no use. I finally had to slide down and away from him in order to get away.
Without me supporting him, he fell back on the bed like a dead man, his eyes coming up lemons in their sockets. I put my ear to his grizzled old chest and heard nothing. Dead as a doornail.
I picked up the five thousand and left as quietly as I had come.
From a plane, Los Angeles looks kind of wild. It's big and sprawling, and the lights fan out in a way that seems endless.
I got to International Airport pretty early in the morning, and when I hit I just instructed the driver to swing over in the direction of Hollywood.
Jeez, that cab must have cost a fortune! In Plainville when you catch a cab from the train station, it costs about fifty cents, but Los Angeles--!
I finally found a way to settle up with the driver in another way, though. After all, I hadn't had a man in about forty-eight hours, and I was pretty hungry. He was very obliging when I suggested an out-of-court settlement, although I can't say that the back seat of a taxicab is any too exciting and it tends to leave red marks on one's buttocks.
He dropped me at a little hotel on Sunset Boulevard where I was finally able to catch up on a little sleep. I must have slept about ten hours. When I got up it was still sun-shiney, though, and I took a walk to get my first looks at Film Capital of the World.
It was a lot more impressive than Plainville, but somehow I felt kind of let down. Hollywood, Shmollywood, so where were the movie stars?
I had to walk for hours before I finally bumped into one.
Clint Chamberson, standing on a corner big as life, lighting a cigarette. I was so awed that I must have smiled out loud.
"Howdy ma'am," he said, tipping his cowboy hat.
"Hu-howdy," I stammered.
He kind of smirked and leaned up against a lamppost, sharpening his spurs against it. I don't think it ever occurred to me that Clint Chamber-son would be dressed any differently.
And he was bigger than he looked on television. He had shoulders on him that were about a mile long, and an immense chest built something like an iron forge. I got the shakes just looking at him, thinking of that nice hairy chest I'd seen so many times on the goon box.
"You doin' anything, little lady?" he asked me.
"Just lookin' at you, Clint," I said with plenty of awe in my sweet voice.
"I ain't never seen a movie star before," I added.
"Aw shucks."
That was about all he said for about ten minutes. I was gettin' kind of nervous waiting for him to ask me something else. "Been standing here long?" I asked kind of stupidly.
"Howdy."
I looked around, but there was no one in sight he could have been saying hello to. I figured howdy must be a sort of all-purpose word for him.
Well, I was getting nowhere fast. Finally I took out a piece of paper and a pencil from my purse and wrote down my room number and hotel for him.
"Use that if you get lonely," I said, and I started walking away.
I heard him say as I left him, "Howdy." And then, "Much obliged.
When you come right down to it, Hollywood is really a slum. Nobody lives there but unemployed actors. The people making the dough all live in Brentwood, Bel-Air, and Beverly Hills.
Even the movie studios aren't in Hollywood any more. Just a few of them are like Paramount, Columbia, General Service Studios. Big babies like MGM, Universal, and Fox are elsewhere.
And apparently those two big sweethearts on my chest were not going to do as much good for me as I had hoped because around Hollywood mouth-watering big globbies were a dime a gross...
CHAPTER NINE
Mine was certainly a riches-to-rags story for a while.
From banker's daughter in the little mining town of Plainville, to $100-a-night call girl (employed only one night), to carhop in just a few jumps.
Right away, though, I wrote to Daddy and asked him for more money and told him how much I loved him, needed him, and how great it would be when he could embezzle enough from Plainville Absconder's and Defaulter's National Trust Bank to get him out here so's we could have a swinging time.
Then I also wrote a note to Mr. DeSalvio telling him how sorry I was that I couldn't have stayed around, but that after twenty-four hours I'd gotten kind of bored with the gambling capital of North America, and I'd wanted to push on to Hollywood, where Fate had decided that I was going to become a big Star.
I didn't give him a forwarding address, naturally. I was afraid he might be sore.
The place I finally wound up living in was kind of a dive just off Hollywood Boulevard, near the Hollywood post office. The old lady running the place gave me a break on the rent although I didn't find out why until later and it was within easy walking of Schwab's on Sunset Boulevard, where a lot of movie people, like Sokolsy the columnist, and Jai Rosenstein, and other people hang out. So I wanted to be near that place, and I also wanted to be convenient to my carhop job at the California No.2
I kind of liked the idea that I could walk around in sexy tight toreador pants that cut right up my rear, and real tight sweaters that showed off my big beauties, without anybody being offended. Usually I wore high heels with this outfit, too and in Plainville folks would have been mortified to hell and gone to see me walking around like that. But here in Hollywood nobody seemed to mind.
Maybe because there were plenty of people dressing a lot further out than I was. One guy I used to see every afternoon walking his dog in a tuxedo and the dog was a Great Dane that came up to about my shoulders! Talk about weird!
A lot of people call the area of Sunset Strip "Prettytown," because there are so many beautiful people working along it. I saw car hikers there that had broader shoulders and were more handsome than many a movie star. And plenty carhops that made my mouth water, too. And in Frascati's you could have gone in and met the most beautiful young boys in the world all waiting to be kept by some rich man or woman, and not too choosy either way. I'd never seen men like that and I was really surprised.
I also wondered if it wouldn't be kind of a challenge to try to seduce one of those "gay" blades.
Be that as it may, I wasn't given much time to explore all of the interesting possibilities at hand, because I was pretty well tied up as a carhop in the evenings.
"Take your order, sir?" and I'd bend low enough so that a customer could catch an eyeful of my terrific cleavage beneath my low cut uniform. We also had to wear long black hose and pink high heels on this job, and our mini-skirts showed thigh all the way up to our crotches. Plenty of the carhops were self-conscious about it. I didn't mind, though.
Although I did get to thinking about how smart I must be if I would turn down $100-a-night in Las Vegas just to work for $65-a-week as a carhop in Hollywood.
The difference was, I guess, in the fact that I had thought (mistakenly, I found out later) that I could make "connections" faster living in Hollywood.
The fact is, I didn't start to make my first real connection until about my third week on the job.
One night this big Rolls-Royce open touring car tools into the lot, and luckily enough it was in my section. I raced over, my big babies doing a terrific dance under my blouse.
And who should it be but Janryk Foster, one of Hollywood's most important producers! He was alone at the driver's wheel, but in the back seat a girl and a TV actor I knew but couldn't place were tussling over her virtue, the young man's hands and fingers assaulting her in all the most naughty places as she tried to hold him off.
"Three chocolate sodas," Foster barked.
Naturally I hurried to fill their order very happily, too, because chocolate soda was one of my own favorite dishes, too.
When I came back, I could see that Mr. Foster had definitely developed "eyes" for me. I could also see that the actor in the back seat had finally made a successful assault on the girl's virtues he had his hand under her skirt and her head was resting back. She was moaning and begging him for more.
Mr. Foster thanked me as I gave him the stuff, then he said: "You ever done any acting, kid?"
"Oh, yes sir in school and everywhere!"
He gave me his card. "Call me tomorrow at this number," he commanded.
I looked at the card. The telephone was his residence number. Just think, little me in bed with the famous Janryk Foster! Oooh, I got the willies just thinking about it!
I thanked him graciously and walked away. His car left a little while later, and he left me a sizable tip.
I decided right then that I could now give up being a carhop. What the hell, I was going to be a Star in a matter of moments, wasn't I ?
So I threw in my apron and just walked off the job, whistling to myself. I walked up the street to Frascati's and ordered a drink which I was able to get because a girl at my rooming house had loaned me her i.d.
Then I gave some attention to the boys at the bar.
They were all rather pretty in the way those kind are with very smooth faces that look as if they'd been made up, and long sensual features. Some had their hair kind of marceled and surf-bleached, and they had, for the most part, very full lips. I called over the bartender.
"Those boys for sale?" I asked him.
He looked a little astonished. "What's a nice little dame need stuff like that for?" he wanted to know. "Yeah they're for sale, all right. But they don't prefer ladies." Then he went back to wiping glasses.
I sidled up to the group, which were kind of hanging around down at one end of the bar. They looked at me as if I had the plague.
"How much for you, sweetheart?" I asked the nearest one.
He looked at me as if he couldn't believe his ears. "What do you mean by that crack?" he asked.
"What do you do for a living?" I pressed. "I'm a gigolo," he said haughtily. "Do you like that sort of way of making a living?"
"It beats working for a living," he answered.
I grinned and sipped some more of my drink, whatever it was. "So what's the difference if you go home with a guy or with a girl?" I asked.
He blushed and the other boys laughed at him uproariously. Only a guy about forty with 'a big cigar stuck into his fat face didn't seem to dig the joke. He stood around studying me from all angles.
"Oh, go on, Freddy you'll look absolutely adorable in bed with a girl!" said one of the boys, and they all laughed again.
Only Freddy wasn't enjoying their humor. He was distinctly uncomfortable. Finally he said to me, "Fifty dollars?"
"Sure. Come on."
And with that we went home.
You can believe that my landlady gave me a kind of funny look when I showed up with this bird, but she didn't say anything. We strolled upstairs nice as you please.
But as soon as he got inside I threw my arms around this beautiful boy and kissed him on his beautiful full lips. The result was that he made a terrible face.
When we broke apart, he excused himself with, "Girls disgust me."
"Swell," I said. I began taking off my clothes.
He didn't appear to notice my terrific breasts and my gigantic aureoles swinging around in front of his face, but then when I started sliding down my toreador pants, that kind of got him. He made a face and put aside the cigarette he had started to light. He came over to me and looked down at my magnificent body.
"You have rather large breasts, don't you?" he said.
"Uh-huh. Like them?"
He gulped and came a little nearer. I took one of his hands and placed the palm over my left nipple.
He appeared fascinated. "Why does it get hard like that when I touch it?" he asked.
I shook my head. I felt the need of a man like it would blow my brains out. "I don't know," I breathed. "God makes it that way. Sure you wouldn't like it in your mouth?" My mouth watered.
But he only winced. "Must I ? " he asked.
I shrugged. "I'm not paying you just to look beautiful," I said, and with that I located a fifty-dollar bill and dropped it on the bureau. "Well?" I asked.
His shoulders drooped. "If I must, I suppose I must. What do you want me to do ? "
"You could make a nice beginning by taking your clothes off," I said, and with that I fucked down my sheer panties and swung my long blonde hair around. I sat down at my dressing table and began to comb it out. The next time I looked at him, he was standing in the middle of the room looking ridiculously naked, his clothes in a pile at his feet.
But he was also breathtaking, too. He was not a tall boy, but he had such a supreme figure that my breath came in gasps as I looked at him. "Come here," I commanded.
He came over and stood before me, his entire exquisite body looking lax and disinterested. First of all, I laved his bony knees with my hands, then stood up and ran my hands over his very wide and square shoulders. When I couldn't seem to get any reaction out of him, I sat down on the dressing table stool again, then reached forward and wrapped my arms around his buttocks, drawing him into the circle of my obscene kiss.
As I took him like that, a moan rose from his sensual lips. I plied him with my hands and my mouth, and in a few moments he had become as rigid as I could possibly want. Then I began to give it to him like no man could possibly do because my mouth is softer, much softer, and much more hungry for something like that...
"Aaaaahhhhhh...."
I thought his frail lovely body would collapse under my artful ministrations, but all that happened was that his head strained backward and his body arched forward slightly. His fingers crept into my hair and held me. As he groaned, my own desires increased by leaps and bounds. I felt a kind of cloying sweetness in my loins and I seemed to ache all over. I kept going on him, and going...and after a few moments more a great fountain of rapture welled up from the very center of his being, and then a tremendous shudder shook him...with a pleased glow on my hungry face, I took my mouth away...walked with him ever to the bed... We lay down on it side by side, and I reached for his hand.
As he had already shot the bolt of his desire, I didn't have any faith in being able to arouse him much further. With exquisite gentleness, then, I coached his fingers so that they could give me...As he sought and found me I cried out with joy and clutched his shoulders. This was something that he was willing to do...I begged him not to stop...he wouldn't have, no matter what... He kept doing that to me and driving me crazy, and my entire teenage body shook in a frenzy, so that after a moment or two I scaled a great height, felt a beauty beyond comparison, and then exploded into joyous nothingness...
When I awoke he was gone. He had taken the money on the bureau. I turned over in bed.
And then for the first time I noticed a little whirring sound. Strange how I had never noticed it before. As I was lying on my back at this very moment, on the pillow of my long golden hair, I was looking straight up at the ceiling and I saw something that looked uncannily like a human eye!
I leaped out of bed and put on my wrap, rushing to my door and up the stairs to the next floor. Who could be peeping at me through the ceiling of my room ?
I was just in time to meet my landlady, Mrs. McGillicuddy, coming out of her room.
"Hello, darlin', " she said pleasantly.
I wasted no time on words. I dealt a kick like a mule to her solar plexus and drove her back into the room, slamming the door in back of me.
"What? Why, what do you think--? "
It was plain what had been going on. And this was why I was getting a special rate for my room. Mrs. McGillicuddy must have spotted me for hot pants right away the room upstairs of mine contained a motion picture camera focused through a hole in my ceiling!
I gave her another kick in the teeth to keep her quiet. Then I went to the camera and ripped the film out of it.
"What do you think--? "
"Shut up or I'll knock your teeth out," I told her. She shut up. "How many more reels have you got like this?" I asked her.
When she didn't answer, I gave her another kick. She fell backwards and her mouth started to bleed. "I've got a few more of you," she said.
"Okay, Queenie, you'd better give me all you got, or you're going to be a dead lady." I picked up a screwdriver that was lying around and hefted it in my little pinkies.
"All right all right-" She got up and started to putter around the little storeroom. After a while she produced the films. I put them up to the light. They were pretty hot stuff, all right. I also made her give me stuff she had had made of other boarders. Pretty interesting. She must have had a run of floozies through her place for the last hundred years.
It occurred to me that I might be able to make a pile of money in blackmail for this juicy stuff. I whacked her in the mouth and told her that she had better get me the addresses of people in the photographs. When she protested, I thought of a bribe she might find somewhat more soothing. I began to take off my wrap so that all of my luscious young body was available to her greedy old eyes.
"How do you like that, Queenie?" I asked as I advanced on her.
She gulped. I came close and picked up one of my juicy things, pushing its big nipple into her face...."How do you like that?" I asked again. She replied by grabbing it hungrily with her mouth, with wrapping her old arms around my lush young body and pulling me closer. I started to undress her...
And when finally I was able to peek between those plump old legs, I said to her, "Now, Queenie, I'm going to show you just why you should be nice to little Cynthia." And with that I lowered my head and began to tongue her thighs, searching along their trembling vastness until I found just the spot that I wanted...
That fat old body arched right up to me, and I ground out every imaginable sort of pleasure for her, until at last a gurgle rose in her throat that was like the sound of a baby dying...
Mrs. McGillicuddy agreed that in exchange for certain "services," she would be very happy to cut my rent to nothing and to arrange for the blackmail letters that would go to all of her former customers. She was also happy to let me have the motion picture camera for my own. She was indeed the last of the great cooperative landladies.
So, with all of that taken care of, I retired to my quarters and began to prepare for tomorrow's momentous and monumental meeting with Jan-ryk Foster.
First of all, I shaved my body. My hair was very light, fleecy yellow, but I decided that I wanted to get rid of it. I shaved my armpits, and carefully did my long smooth legs and arms. Then I showered with a special soap that would leave a kind of film of scent all over my delicious young body that I was sure MR. Foster would want an opportunity to taste...
I tweezed my eyebrows so that they were rather slender, and darkened them just slightly. Then I darkened my eyelashes, curling them up and making them longer as I did so.
I put some pink lipstick on my bust, so that my nipples stood out even rosier than they were naturally, and I colored my aureoles, too. I put the same lipstick on my mouth, so that I would look very sweet and innocent. Then I put scent all over my creamy body under my armpits, between my thighs, on my mammoth baby's breasts, and over my ears. I wanted to be sure that anyone who made love to me would know he was with a real sex kitten and not just an imitation.
Then I hit the hay so that I would have plenty of sleep in preparation for the Big Day. But in that sleep I had some really funny dreams. Daddy came and spoke to me, and so did my insane Mummy. And for a while me and Daddy made some nice love so that my thighs tingled from it all night long. And then there was Mr. DeSalvio, who was so immense that he completely filled me up and there were Max and Adrian. All in all, I had to admit in my dream that I had had a pretty exciting life.
Morning came in a kind of a nice way, the way it does in Los Angeles. It was kind of cool and clear, and the sun was shining. I made up my mind that I would call Mr. Foster right away.
I got the phone downstairs in the drug store across from the Hollywood post office.
His butler answered. "Mistah Fostah is sleeping, Miss. May I give him a message? "
"You can even give him a massage, for all I care. He told me to call him this morning."
"In that case, I'm shuah that he will be happy to speak to you when he arises." And with that he hung up.
I felt hung up, too. What a thing! Sleeping at ten o'clock in the old morning when bountiful little me was waiting with these big things of mine to give him a good time. Oh well, that's life.
I sauntered philosophically over to a restaurant and ordered some pancakes.
Along about noon I gave him another ring. This time he answered the phone all by himself. I explained who I was, and though he seemed a little forgetful at first, he finally remembered me and ordered me to come right over.
Which I did remembering of course to bring along something to wear for bed. I chose for that particular night a pink shortie with a pink bow that would tie up right over the top of my breasts very nicely.
The Foster mansion was kind of out in Beverly Hills and up a long winding road. When I got to the top I was really huffing and puffing, I can tell you.
But it was really worth it. From Foster's place you could look down over Sunset Boulevard and across into Beverly Hills almost down to Wilshire Boulevard. It was a beautiful day, and the sunshine sparkled on everything. I pushed open the big iron gate and sauntered inside.
My first impression of the grounds was baronial excellence of Hollywood's bygone days. There were concrete statues all over the place, and an immense pool, and gardeners working their forearms off. I had just worn sandals, tight jeans and a blouse that was open pretty low, so you can imagine that these guys gave me the eye. It made me kind of hot, too, to watch them sweating like that over the gardenias or roses or whatever the hell they were working on. Because I got to thinking that if they could work that hard over a little vegetable life, imagine how hard they could work over some animal life like myself...
The butler was wearing a black tux and tie. He didn't seem to be offended by my casual get-up, though. He must have had naked chicks running around this sharp mansion for about as far back as he could remember.
And then the original Janryk Foster appeared at the top of the long spiral staircase. My heart skipped a beat, and you know where that's located well, I just got a kick out of thinking that this guy would be the key to my successful future on the silver screen.
"Cynthia!" he called out as he came galumphing down the stairs in robe and slippers. I had told him that my name was Cyn Louvere the one Adrian had given me in Las Vegas so I don't know why he called me Cynthia.
"Dahling," I said. I didn't know what else to say. But in movies the entrances always went something like this.
He took my hand and kissed it. I felt an itching down below that would drive me crazy.
He said, "I'm glad you could come, my dear because there's someone I want you to meet."
CHAPTER TEN
Well, I can tell you, I've never been so mortified to get me all the way out there just to fix me up with someone else! Well! After all, what sort of a girl did he take me for!
"I'd like you to meet my-" he started to say, and then he was cut off by a booming masculine voice that came from somewhere upstairs.
I looked up to find the most renowned motion picture star of our time resting on the balustrade. Baron Flynn! The man who made the word swashbuckling mean something to the world! I was flabbergasted!
"And who might this charming young creature be?" said the Great Man.
I gulped. Janryk Foster just sort of frowned. "Well, good morning, Baron. What're you doin' up this time o' the morning?"
"Oh, I just came out to see what all the commotion was."
Gosh, he was even more stunning than his pictures. He was real tall and lanky, with broad square shoulders and a sort of devil-may-care face boasting a dimpled jaw and a sleek pencil mustache. Oooh, I could feel that mustache all over my delicious body just by looking at him.
As he came down the stairs I could see he was in a purple sash belted robe that did nothing to conceal his manly physique. I could feel my knees tremble as he looked me up and down with those magnificent blue eyes of his that got right down between a girl's legs.
"Good morning, my dear," he said in his very continental way, "and how are you this morning?"
"F-fine, sir," I stammered.
"Good, then you won't mind having a bit of breakfast with me." He took my arm and began leading me out toward the terrace, turning his head just enough to wink back at Foster, who by this time looked just furious.
I didn't mind, though. After all, what was a little old producer compared to this handsome star who any girl would have given her eyeteeth to go to bed with? And I was going to get him all for myself!
We ordered up ham and eggs, and I really put it away, I was so hungry. As for wonderful Him, he just kind of sat there watching me gobble like a turkey, a nice smile on his face.
"Been in Hollywood long?" he asked me.
"Oh, just about a month," I said, trying to look dainty while talking and at the same time bolting my food like a longshoreman.
"Where did you meet Mr. Foster?"
"Oh, I'm a carhop where he comes around, and he asked me to call him."
Flynn nodded that beautiful head sagely. "I suppose you'd like to be an actress, too."
"Oh, yes, Mr. Flynn."
He sighed. "All young girls come out here looking for just that stardom!"
"Well, I think I've got what it takes."
He nodded, pursing his lips, and I could see from the way he studied the front of my blouse that he thought I had what it takes, too.
When I was finished he put his beautiful manicured hand on my wrist and I felt as if a few hundred volts of electricity were coursing through me. "Care to go upstairs and see some of my painting?" he asked.
"Oh yes sir, Mr. Flynn," I said, figuring this was my big chance.
Only he had really meant painting. Upstairs in his suite he had an entire room just devoted to this hobby of his, which was really painting.
Some of his stuff was from hunger, but a lot of it was really good. Like street scenes he did of Hollywood and stuff that was really authentic. And I suppose the portraits of Hollywood orgies were authentic they showed rooms full of people making mad love, old guys with young girls, young girls with young girls, old girls with young girls, young guys with girls, in every sort of imaginable position.
Other stuff, like pictures he'd painted of Paris, I guess, were not really so hot. And I told him so.
He only laughed. He didn't care whether I liked any of it or not.
And while I sat on this sofa and feeling increasingly uncomfortable, he just took up his easel, or whatever it was, and continued to paint stuff.
Which didn't show me nothing. I mean, what did I care about his old paintings? Here I was, a beautiful blonde sixteen-year-old dish with a pair of about the world's biggest and bounciest bazooms and this long hair that dazzled everybody, and what was he doing? Just painting a lot of long-haired stuff that nobody'd be interested in ten minutes after his death. I got to kind of wishing I hadn't walked out on Mr. Foster. There was a guy who had looked as if he could show a girl a good time.
But I was still willing to exert a little effort with Flynn, too. He was kind of cute.
"Say," I said, "did you know that I was president of your fan club back home ? "
He seemed genuinely delighted. "And where was that?" he asked.
"Plainville Pennsylvania."
I was getting pretty tired of this drab sort of sparring by now. Finally I couldn't take no more and I began unbuttoning my blouse.
Naturally my beautiful big globbies poured out all over.
"What what are you doing?" he stammered.
"Well," I said innocently, "I figure that since I was a member of your fan club, and since I have these beautiful big things on my chest-" I fondled my aching breasts in front of his eyes, just sort of fingering those immense coral nipples until they grew and grew into mouthwatering size. "-Well, after all, who has better right to look at them than Baron Flynn. I mean if you can't look at the big juicy globbies of a young kid belonging to your very own fan club, well then whose can you --? "
"They're beautiful," he gasped, and I could see that he was really broken up. After looking at nice stuff like I had around Hollywood for all these years, he was still broken up by my two big babies I was tickled to death.
He came over to the sofa and sat down next to me, his eyes full of wonder.
"Do you really think they're pretty?" I asked, holding them up in front of his face.
"Yes... " he breathed, that hungry look coming into his eyes that I dug so well.
"Well, in that case," I said, "and seeing that I'm a member of the Baron Flynn Fan Club of Plainville Pennsylvania, it seems only fair that you should have the right to touch them wouldn't you agree ? "
He was speechless, so there was no use expecting an answer. With a kind of dazed look in his eyes, he reached for my magnificent bosom. I kind of stretched and arched forward so's he could get maximum comfort from them, and then he was touching my nipples, feeling my swelling aureoles with his thumb, pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger...ooh, it was just great I mean, after all, with a famous movie star and all...
My blouse fell away from my creamy shoulders and he bent his head to show his devotion to my magnificent pair. He took one of my hardening nubs into his mouth and began to play with it with his tongue. I put my long nailed fingers on the back of his neck, caressing him there and also holding on for dear life, because he was making me feel so oozy all over my lush body. He continued to prod my nipple with his tongue, and finally he reached down to unzip my jeans. He was beginning to get the idea, all right.
But you can believe that he was surprised when he discovered that I wasn't wearing anything underneath...
"Wow...." he said as he discovered my blonde loveliness, and I let him pull my jeans down over my voluptuous thighs and calves. He stroked them and I felt kind of dizzy, because I have very smooth and soft thighs that are very sensitive, especially around the insides. My legs kind of fell apart beautifully, and I was squirming inside and out, wanting him so desperately I could taste it.
He caressed my knees with his fingers and ever so softly saluted the divinity of my glorious body with his lips. That kiss was so evanescent and thrilling, in a place that was so gloriously sensitive and attuned, that it like to drove me out of my blonde mind. My flesh arched forward so that he could better devote his attention to it, and my fingernails clawed at his trousers.
"Come on...." I begged him desperately. He saw what I meant and hurried to unbuckle his pants, took off his shoes, his drawers, and when I saw his beautiful malehood I wanted to cry, it was so wonderful...
"Oh, Baron," I pleaded, worshipping him, "please...please hurry...I got to have it so bad... "
Boy, did I have to have it! I was so cloyingly sweet you could have smelled me in Pasadena.
And with that he arched forward and we swam into each other, the fan club of Plainville Pa., and the movie star of Hollywood, Calif. A flash of fire shot upward into my being that scorched every desire in my aching flesh. My teenage body arched and began jerking convulsively in a rhythm that matched his own. His mouth came down on mine and I knew the bliss of a thousand movie kisses...
That wonderful body of his, matching my delicious youthful loveliness...we swam together in toward a shuddering oblivion that was beautiful peace, sun, fire, and flame all at once, and a joyous paean of rapture rose from my moaning lips that was like the sound of a great amen...
I felt completely enervated from head to toe. Flynn got up and wrapped his robe around him again. I had been kind of surprised to find that he was wearing trousers underneath it, but I guess that so long as we did manage to make it together, there was no harm done.
I ran my fingers down his leg.
"Boy, you're great," I whispered.
He seemed genuinely pleased, although I guess he must hear that from all the girls. After all, a dashing movie idol like him and all.
"With you, I felt great, Cynthia," he confessed. He looked over at me as he belted the sash to his robe, his eyes kind of quizzical. "How would you like to have a screen test ? " he asked me.
"Little me?" I said as sweetly as I knew how.
He laughed. "Yes, 'little you,' as you put it. -You've got something, a certain basic sex appeal a quality of 'availability' that could make you a success in no time if some smart studio made good use of your ahem talents."
I giggled, too. Baron had a nice way of putting things.
Just then there was a knock at the door. I pulled my blouse up over my swollen breasts. "Who is it?" Baron asked.
"It's Janryk, Baron. Open up. I want to introduce that little filly to Dolores."
"In a minute,"
"In a minute," Flynn told him. He looked down at my naked loveliness. "How would you like to meet Dolores Jones ? " he asked me.
Dolores Jones! World famous motion picture actress! Gosh!
"Would I!" I said in a voice full of awe.
Flynn grinned. "She's Mrs. Janryk Foster, you know. And she's just now rousing from a sound sleep."
Well, I hadn't known that Dolores Jones was married to Janryk Foster at all, but it certainly made things convenient. I was meeting so many important people it just made my head swim!
I hurried to get dressed, then gave Baron a passionate farewell. He was wearing his robe now, and I was completely dressed, but I just kissed him with my open mouth and rubbed against him until I could feel him coming alive. His fingers ran into my hair, my big globbies rubbed like immense cushions against his hard chest...we met all dressed, and I just kept rubbing against him and rubbing against him, his nose in my hair, his breath coming in panting gasps, until finally he clutched me real tight, moaned, and I could feel that he had reached it...
That was great, doing it with clothes on. I made a note that I would have to try that more often.
Mr. Foster was waiting for me in the corridor. He had put on a dark brown sackcloth blazer and looked very spiffy. I kind of liked the way he walked as I followed him.
"You are about to meet the one and only, the internationally famous Dolores Jones!" he said. "I made her a star, and today she is my wife. I made her what she is today, -but she is a very strange woman," he added cryptically.
Strange? Well, I kind of hoped that she was strange enough, I have to admit.
We entered a room that was all shrouded in pink. Everything was pink, from the bedsteads to the dressing tables, to the rugs on the floor and there, in the center of the room, on an enormous circular bed, lay my idol Dolores Jones!
Gosh, she was really shot.
For an international movie queen, she was a pretty old dame. That was probably why she kept the room dark. I shuddered as I looked at her partly with desire and partly with revulsion. In the movies she always looked so swell, but here she was just a thin old bag.
She was very slender and dark, a little on the order of my mother, but she had enormous dark eyes and a wide red mouth that looked as if it was made-up too much.
She was still kind of dozing. She was stretched out across the bed in a pink nightgown that showed her kind of dilapidated breasts, and her jet black straggly hair all over the pillow. She kind of moved fitfully as she dozed.
"This is my wife," Foster said to me.
"Yeah," I agreed.
He went over to her and sat down on the bed next to her. "Dolores," he said.
She kind of hummed to herself before she answered him. "What is it?" she said in a voice full of ice-water, still not opening her eyes.
"I've got someone here I'd like you to meet. I got her for you just yesterday. -I thought it would make a nice surprise."
Dolores Jones opened her eyes and looked at me. And did she look. I could see right away that we were going to make it together before much longer.
"Come here, child," she whispered, and she reached out a hand for me. I walked toward her, noticing as I did so the vast amount of pills in bottles resting on her end table.
I sat down on the bed and kind of leaned forward so that she could look down my blouse if she wanted to.
And did she want to.
"My God," she murmured in reverence for my blonde voluptuousness. "I haven't seen a girl like this in I can't remember how many years." She looked over at the pill bottles at her bedside. "You'll have to excuse me, child. I'm under sedation much of the time. Drugs are my constant solace. Have you ever tried LSD ? "
"That means 'fine tobacco' ? " I said stupidly.
She laughed. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Janryk Foster retreating to the shadows, sitting down in one of the large pink chairs that festooned the room.
"No, dear," she went on, "that's a kind of drug that's very good for you it makes you feel high as a kite and twice as tall. Would you like to try some ? "
"I-I don't think so...." As I said this I kind of leaned forward so she could get a better view of my mammoth breasts.
She kind of gasped. "Lord, but you're beautiful," she murmured.
"Do you think I have beautiful breasts?" I asked innocently. By now I was almost leaning over her. I kicked off my sandals so it would be easier for me to move when the time came.
"Heavens... " she breathed, and with this I kind of got up on the bed on my knees, unbuttoning my blouse as I went. It kind of opened up and then I said to her, 'Well, since you're a famous movie star and all, and since I'm one of your very best fans, I suppose it would be all right if I let you see them... "
And with this I just kind of leaned over so that my enormous breasts dangled right in front of our face. She reached up for them like a dying man asking for water, but as she reached I sort of pulled back a little.
"Oh, Miss Jones," I said. "Now you're being naughty reaching for my big things with that hungry mouth of yours. What would the police say if they knew you had an innocent sixteen-year-old girl in your bed and you were trying to be naughty to her! They would think that's just terrible!"
She continued to reach for me, though, groaning, "Please, anything...I'll do anything...God, they're beautiful...." And then she finally got one of my big huskies into her mouth, and oooh, that was sooo good...
Her hands tugged at the zipper on my jeans, pulling them down and reaching in to find the virile softness of my fleecy love-mound.
Oooh, this was so great I couldn't stand it! She had her fingers on me and in me and it drove me wild! And those thick carmine lips of hers on the nub of my left breasts, grabbing it, pulling it, twisting it, tonguing it and teething it. A voluptuous shudder of desire ran through my hot young body from head to toe. Now I wanted this woman as much as she wanted me...I just had to have...
She pushed back my jeans so she could put her hands on my creamy firm buttocks, and then she began to rub it with her fingers and nails in a way that was maddening. My thighs tingled like they were being electrified...I had to have...
As she worked on one breast with her mouth, her hand found the other, twisting it, turning it, pushing it up and back. I felt an excruciating ecstasy in the way she was tormenting me like this...I hoped it would just go on and on...
"Now me... " she whispered. "Please... "
I was more than happy to accommodate. She spread her nightgown open and my mouth reached greedily for her left breast, taking the sullen nipple into my voracious appetite. After just a moment of tonguing it, I felt it grow hard between my lips, and it began filling up my mouth, it was becoming so big.
I began playing with her other little love-tidbit, too, until I discovered that it was growing properly, and then I gave her wide-mouthed wet kisses on her neck that made her swoon, trailing my mouth down her body to the wrinkled kissnook in her belly, tickling her with the way my blonde hair trickled over her flesh, and finally spying that soft crown of dark hair where I...
"Aaaaaaahhhoooooohhhhaaaaahhhhh... " she groaned as I found her. And I kept on finding until she could never become lost again...
Suddenly her old body arched upwards and, looking up, I could see that a flash of lightning was rocketing through her entire being...She began to shudder uncontrollably, and that was where I delivered the final coup d'grace that sent her spinning upward toward the heavens...
The trouble was, now that she was completed, I was still nervous and squirming as the very devil, and she was in no condition to put me out of my misery she was asleep as a stone once again.
I looked around. Through the twilight of the room I could make out the reclining figure of Janryk Foster on one of the couches in the huge room... You can imagine my astonishment to discover that he had opened his trousers as he watched us and was doing something so obscene that it fair took my sweet breath away...
I clambered off the bed and ran over to him. "Mr. Foster!" I shouted. "What are you doing!"
"Shut up, will you, for God's sake...you're breaking my concentration here... " he groaned and rested his head back.
"Here, let me help you!"
This was the perfect answer to my craving! I pushed my jeans down again and got up on top of him. With gentle insistence I pried his hand loose and pushed it away.
"Really," I said, "you've really got to let me... " Deftly I pushed myself down on top of him, spiked like a suckling pig... "Aaaaahhhhhhh... " I felt something so eminently satisfying intrude on my universe, and then I began to gallop, searching for that magic apex, that moment of utmost satisfaction when...
I groaned. "Aaaaaaahhhhhh...." A satisfaction, an ecstasy so magnificent, raced through my nervous system and began doing the mile in three minutes...and then something exploded inside my head and I fell over backwards, somersaulting off the couch onto the carpet...
Now, that's what I call a severe jolt. When Janryk Foster jolted me, I knew I'd been jolted. I lay there for a long while on the floor, just kind of resting up and enjoying the sweet peace of lassitude that washed over my ripe young flesh, from my strawberry tidbits to my dimpled knees in their excellently swiveled sockets.
Then I got up. Everyone was dozing again. I declare! This sure was the sleepingest house!
Well, never mind. I kicked off the rest of my jeans and just kind of pranced around, looking at myself in the lovely mirrors. I sure was sharp; I had to hand it to myself. A girl with what I had had to go far in this world.
Combing out my hair just once with a brush I found on a dressing table, I went over and got into bed with Dolores Jones. She didn't budge an inch as I nestled up to her, and I was pleased to find that her breasts were a lot firmer than what I had thought at first. I just laid there for a while, then, thumbing and palming one of her nipples and thinking nice things, and all in all it turned out to be a very pleasant day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dear Daddy-Poo:
I'd like you to know that I have found and fixed up a little place out here, and that I have been given a screen test at one of the big movie studios, where everybody agrees that I have tremendous possibilities. I also have got a small role in one of Dolores Jones' next films, SUN-SPOTS. Aren't you thrilled?
Hope you can come out soon and join me with all that folding green.
Your loving baby-kitten, Cynthia
Above is a copy of a letter I sent to Pappa-Daddy after I'd been in Hollywood for a little while. Down below is a copy of one he sent to me in reply:
Dear Sugar-Spice:
I know you'll be as grieved as I was to learn that your unfortunate mother has died in the Institution. Toward the end, she was having the weirdest hallucinations, insisting that people were sticking pins into the more sensitive parts of her anatomy. She would cry out in pain and try to fight off unseen assailants. Toward the end, she was calling out your name, which goes to show how much she loved you.
Well, be that as it may, it looks as if I will be tied up here for a while, but you can believe that I yearn for my baby-poo. I hope that I'll be able to join you at the earliest possible time, and I've been working overtime in the bank toward that end when we can be together and free of restrictions. After your Hollywood fling, do you think you'd like living in Rio?
Well, be that as it may, I have to get back to work studying our auditors' schedules. full of desire, Daddy
Jeez, he was really going to try to cop some dough from the bank. Now that things were starting to look up for me, I was worried about him a little he might just wind up getting in my way.
But anyway, until he did, I was having a ball.
Baron Flynn got me a screen test at Warren Brothers Studios, and the people who saw it dug it so much that I was immediately asked in to the offices of one of the important producers on the lot, B. L. Mizener.
Gosh, I was so impressed it wasn't even funny. I'd been reading about Mr. Mizener ever since I was a little girl and now to be in his very own office with all the pictures of the stars on his walls and everything that was really something !
I was kept waiting outside his office, though, by his secretary, for about an hour. She was a tall dame, about forty, with a nice face and a forty-two inch bust. It seemed like all the women around the studios were pretty big upstairs. I guess it was a fetish.
Her tone wasn't too nice to me, neither, but I just guessed she was jealous. I was gonna be a big star, and she was only a secretary.
I was pretty pleased, though, when I finally got shown in to the Big Man's office.
And it was some office. Purple pile on the floor, big long couch, imagine bar, private lavatory, the works. I was really impressed.
"Miss Cyn Louvere," he said in a sort of toneless voice.
"That's me," I said.
He was kind of a big man, with a glistening mane of long white hair, and when he spoke his voice was very gentle, just like falling rain in the Andes Mountains.
He shut the blinds, sat down again and looked up at me. Gosh, I just worshipped him. "I've seen the rushes of your screen test, Miss Louvere," he said nonchalantly, just sort of playing with me and making me nervous.
"-And they were quite good."
Oooh, I was overjoyed! I wanted to clap my hands!
He looked down his glasses at me. "You've got a certain pulchritude, and a nice way of walking that will turn men's heads but of course I'm sure you understand that there's more to being a star than just being sexy." He looked at me carefully.
Gosh, there was ? I sure hoped not!
But what I said was: "Oh, sure I under-ncl that all right, Mr. Mizener."
He smiled as if slightly relieved. Then he began to play with the letter opener on his desk, sort of standing it up and twirling it around on its point. I stared at it fascinated.
"Look in back of you, Miss Louvere," he said.
I did. All I saw was this immense sofa that was so big a couple of people could sleep on it and never touch corners. "Yeah? I'm looking."
"Have you ever heard of the 'casting couch,' Miss Louvere?"
"Why doncha call me 'Cyn,' Mr. Mizener? It'd be a lot less formal."
"All right, Cyn." He got up from the desk and walked around to where I was. He was a big man even standing up. I could see he was looking down the front of this yellow dress I had wore specially to please him.
I said, "By casting couch, do you mean that legendary place where young girls are tested to see if they are ready for the movies ? "
"That's what I mean exactly, Cyn." His eyes had taken on a kind of funny glow, and I got to figuring that he would be drooling any minute.
I sort of twirled around so that my skirt climbed up and he could see my legs better. I pressed my fingers into the sofa. "But isn't it true that no amount of 'connections' in the world is an adequate substitute for genuine talent, Mr. Mizener?"
He shook his head. "Not very." I stared at him in what I assumed to be an aghast manner, and he stared back.
"Cyn," he said, taking my hand in a very fatherly manner, "look at me." So I looked.
"I'm fifty-five years old," he went on. He tapped his stomach. "I've got a paunch and I know it. Do you suppose an old geezer like me could possibly get all the young girls he desires if he weren't in my position? And do you suppose that any old guy in a position to make movie stars wouldn't do just as I do? -Wouldn't jump at the chance to make hay with all of the available cuties who come my way ? "
I looked at that couch. "Well, I guess there's something in what you say, Mr. Mizener-"
"Look at that couch," he said. "More great careers have been made there than on the sound stages." He laughed. "I know what I am just a fat old man. -But to get stardom many a clean young girl has wanted to please me!"
I looked him over. Actually, he wasn't so bad, and he was very distinguished looking. A girl like me could certainly do worse and when I saw him dressed in dollar signs I oozed like an oil can. Suddenly I wanted him just because he smelled like money. Slowly I moved toward him and made him take off his double-breasted jacket.
"Isn't it a little warm in here for this ? " I said.
He was wearing one of those California sport shirts that kind of clung to his broad body. Ever so teasingly, I began to rotate my palm over one of the nipples on his chest. He gulped and gritted his teeth.
Then ever so slowly, placing my hands into his armpits, I bent my head to kind of mouth the other nipple through his shirt.
He sort of liked that, I could tell he put his fingers in my baby blonde curls and pressed me closer. I continued to nip at that little button as he sighed, then I jerked my head away, wrapped my arms around his neck, and gave him a good strong mouth-kiss on his ear, darting my tongue into it and giving it a good washing.
His strong hands moved up my dress toward my full breasts. He was no spring chicken, but you could see he had kept himself in condition, and his hands were unusually strong. When he touched me I gasped and felt my knees grow weak.
"Hey, you really mean it don't you?" He pushed me away so's he could look at me. I was kind of panting, and I wanted it so bad I could taste it.
"Please...." I begged him. "...Don't torment me... " And my knees sort of buckled.
But the bastard kept talking. "Usually, when a young girl comes in here to try her luck on my famous casting couch, she is an awful phony and I can tell right away. She goes through the motions of love but doesn't really mean it." He grabbed my left breast hard and I winced as he pressured it, jerked it back and forth. My head rolled back and I thought I'd have a spasm.
He went on, "But you're really a nympho, aren't you? A young kid like you a nympho-that's where I come in!"
"I hope you're not just saying that," I murmured delicately through half-closed eyelids. The way he was fondling and unfondling my breast was driving me nutty.
For answer he just pulled the zipper down on my dress. I had worn a brassiere today specially so that my big things would be more pointy than usual, but he didn't seem too disappointed to find me wearing one (In fact, I have since learned that men like girls to be wearing bras because it adds more "tease" to the operation of undressing them). He unhooked it easily and slid it free so that he could feast his eyes on the beautiful blonde loveliness of my blinding torso.
I pulled over my pony tail and kind of covered my breasts with it, but he wouldn't allow that. He bent his head and the next thing I knew I felt his lips pinching on my nipple, prodding it, making it get big. Then his tongue was on it, feeling around it, the tip just prodding my nipple ever so maddeningly.
My dress festooned around my dainty five-inch white pumps, and I fell back on the couch. Then he began to slowly remove my shoes while he stroked my calves and up toward the inner circle of my thighs ever so lasciviously. I was dizzy beyond belief, and I hoped only that he would soon...
But he continued to master me methodically, but with reverence for my voluptuous blonde teenage beauty.
His mouth was on my calves, his stinging kisses moving slowly up my trembling, shaking legs. My hand tussled with his trousers, trying to get at the root of him hidden behind so many folds of cloth, until finally I attained what was ahhhh! What a man!
I slid down the trousers so I could get a good look at him. Mmmmmm! I pushed down his shorts, too, made everything festoon down his hairy legs. Then I tried to pull up his shirt or push it up, I can't remember exactly which and his great hairy body then seemed to be all over me...but he slid down again and his mouth located the very center of all my secret longings. Oooooooh, how I strained, how I arched into him, straining against invisible bonds to conquer that topmost joy...
"You're a real blonde... " he said in admiration, as if he had never kissed one before.
Then his mouth rose up and covered my panting blue-veined milky breasts with kisses, stirring up the nipples, moving upward to my throat as his fingers and toes forced my pink panties ever lower down my legs...and then I felt something so powerful, so awe-inspiring, so wonderful and magnificent...entering me...forcing its way through my fountain of ecstasy toward the sacred pool at the bottom...
I must have screamed, or cried out in rapture...I was moaning, and lashing at him with my fingernails and fists...and still that utmost power came on...knocking the breath out of me...making me gasp for joy and helplessness under its ruthless command, its primeval force...
My eyes rolled backward up into my beautiful head and I forgot everything except this wonderful relentless force that was showing me no mercy, no pity...injuring me, ripping at me...causing me pain...agony...and the greatest untold joy in the world...until a great spasm, a shudder of desire, shook me that was so great and awful in its power that every nerve ending in my body lit up like a Christmas tree, and then I blacked out from the beautiful sweet torture of it...
When I woke up, Mr. Mizener was already up and lighting a cigarette all dressed he was, too! That's what I call a business-like attitude!
I sat up so that my beautiful pendulous breasts just sort of swung in their sockets, their big swollen nubs looking all red and raw.
And he was still talking, too!
"...like I said, any girl who's a nympho in this business has got it made...absolutely got it made...you want a little from the cameraman, he gives you better shots...have a talk with film editors, and only the physical part of you winds up on the cutting room floor...it's just a business like any other, but with some magnificent compensations...."
To illustrate, he walked around from behind the desk, came over to me and slapped my breasts hard with his open hand. Oooh, that hurt terribly, but it also felt real good, too...
"See what I mean...that pair of magnificents you've got is worth all the money in the world...with them you can get anything...so long as you always remember to unveil them faster than anyone else can unveil theirs...and they're a pair of the compensations in this business...that's why producers say they work long hours because they "love" their work horsemen knew her the part of the work they love is where they get some lush young babe down on their casting couch, make her spread her delicious legs, and then give her what for until her brains blow out...that's how producers 'love' their work...girls are their work...remember this, baby... 'Lalive' is what somebody feels for you just before they give you a good you know what...got that"
He came over and stood over me. I just sort of nodded. "Ooh, you luscious young piece, you," and then he slapped my globbies hard again but I was getting to like it by this time and I kind of hoped that he would do it again, and some more...for a long, long time...
A buzzer sounded on his desk and he went to get it. He listened to the intercom for a moment and then he gave me a ghastly look.
"Uh oh, my wife." He looked as if he were about to turn another color than the one he was racially currently wearing. He looked feverishly from one end of the room to the other. Finally he decided. "Uh oh, better get in there-" and he shoved me toward the lavatory (that's English for bathroom). I went in in a hurry, and I didn't even have nothing on I just had to clutch everything around my big globbs but then there was a click-click, and I was alone naked in the latrine of the world's most influential star-maker. I looked around for help, but the tile walls didn't seem to be about to provide any.
"Benjie!" I heard a woman's voice exclaim. Not thinking very clearly, I bent my head to the keyhole so's I could hear that specific shriek a bit more clearly. It didn't occur to me for a moment that I should have been actively engaged in getting my clothes the hell back on.
As I bent still lower and put my eye to the keyhole, I could see a rather plump old woman of about fifty walking cartwheels all around the Great Man's desk.
"Benjie, fafoofnik," she was saying as she gave him a big slobbering kiss on his cheek, and began to give him a run-down on what she had been doing, where she had been shopping, and the like.
"Sophie, my darling," he exclaimed, and I like to have retched. What a thing to say to an old bag like that.
But in any case, while they were fooling around, I started to get my clothes only to suddenly hear the door being tried! Without thinking, I leapt into the bathtub.
"Don't go in there, dear," I heard Mr. Mizener say, "the plumber is still working in there."
There was hesitation, but then the door was open. I was petrified stark naked holding my clothes in a bathtub!
"So, dey is no cuties in here, is it?" I heard her say as she looked around.
"Of course not, Sophie darling," he said patronizingly.
I could see their moving shadows through the shower curtain.
And then suddenly it opened. I couldn't think of a thing to say. Mrs. Mizener gasped, fell back into the arms of her beloved. I attempted: "Pardon me, can you tell me the way to Wardrobe?" but it was useless. Finally I just leaped from the bathtub and ran out of the office.
By the time a guard caught up with me at the front gate of the lot, I was breathless and very agreeable when he suggested that he get me under surveillance. I didn't know what that meant exactly, but it sounded dirty enough to be interesting.
I was staying at the Fosters' now, and had even rented a little foreign sports car in order to look a la Hollywood. When I got back to our palatial bed, all was quite quiet around the old place.
I went upstairs to Dolores Jones' room. She was still sleeping, open bottles of pills at her bedside. I got to thinking how easy it would be to just rearrange their order in their little bottles so that she might get them mixed up and accidentally take the wrong ones and the wrong time or too many of the wrong ones or something.
But just then she raised her arm and saw me. She still looked very beautiful in this kind of twilight, and after the rough hardiness of Mr. Mizener, I sort of longed for a little feminine softness. I took off my dress and went over to get in bed with her.
And as I lay there with my arms around her, our mouths pressed tightly together, I got to thinking what advantages I might have with her out of the way.
Of course, there were a lot of people who would be better off out of the way, so far as I was concerned.
Daddy was one because he would leave me a whole lot of money.
Dolores Jones was another, because she was a big star and every big star counted against my own rise although, of course, so long as I held onto her skirt tails she could help me a lot, and so would the perverted Janryk Foster.
Which reminded me that I could do a lot worse than marrying Janryk myself.
Which reminded me, for no particular reason, that tomorrow I was going to be seventeen, and my, hadn't I come a long way in just a short while for one so young.
I also thought about Mrs. McGillicuddy. She was doing a nice job of handling those blackmail accounts, and the money was piling up in the bank, but for some reason I wondered if I could trust her. I wondered idly if I could assign that sort of blackmail collection to the trust department of a bank somehow I doubted it.
Dolores Jones stirred in my arms and I found it necessary to soothe her. Then I returned to my wondering.
Baron Flynn had taken his ship, the Alpaca, to Spain, so I probably wouldn't be seeing him for a while. At any rate, he had helped me to get my screen test at Warren's, which was going to lead to big things.
Dolores Jones had gotten me a bit part in her next picture, SUNSPOTS, just by calling her producer, and we'd be ready to shoot some time the end of this month. The story of the movie centered around a young girl who leaves a convent and of what happens to her afterward. Somehow I didn't see why I couldn't play a role like that just as well as Dolores Jones after all, she was actually an old bag, and why give the make-up people such problems, huh?
I kind of wondered what sort of a job I could do stepping into her shoes some time after I'd let her make me a star...
And then there was Mr. DeSalvio I kind of wondered what had become of him and all the rest of my friends along my torturous road to the Big Time. Ah, alas...they had all served their purpose and then drifted away...
Dolores Jones groaned in her stupor and I had to make love to her. I lifted her nightgown up the front and put my fingers into the strategic positions. She moaned out loud and clutched me fiercely.
And then a strange thing happened...A Western Union telegram slid under the bedroom door...
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was from Papa-daddy! Gosh oh gee! I wondered what it could all be about!
ARRIVING LOS ANGELES GRAND CENTRAL INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT U:05 STOP CALL YOU IMMEDIATELY STOP URGENT WE KEEP ON THE MOVE STOP BE READY STOP
Be ready? Golly, what was that all about? Just now, when I had the world in the palm of my hand, he was going to want me to go to Guatemala or some other place where only spiders live? Gosh!
I satisfied Dolores Jones momentarily and dropped out of bed. Certainly I'd have to be waiting at Mrs. McGillicuddy's when Daddy arrived, or I might not get a peek at the loot he was carrying.
So I had to hurry and get ready.
I tooled my little sports car out of the drive and made it for McGillicuddy's like crazy.
Once there, I didn't have long to wait. At exactly 4:06 Daddy called me on the hall phone.
"Daddy! Gee whiz!"
He spoke in a guarded whisper. "Baby, can you meet me at the airport?"
"Why, sure, Daddy-bear. Why all the mystery?" As if I didn't know!
You can bet I was really surprised when I saw Daddy. He looked just rotten you know, as if he'd been under a strain.
"Sweetheart!" he exclaimed as he saw me.
"Hello, honey-dumpling," I said rather cautiously. "What've you got in that big black leather bag you're carrying so carefully in those big hands of yours?"
He grabbed my arm and pushed me to one side. "Sssh," he said, "we've got to be very careful." He looked around. "Come on, let's get someplace and talk."
"Gosh, you haven't done anything foolish, have you, Daddy ? " I asked innocently.
"Not too foolish but we've got to get out of the country."
As he said this, he suddenly noticed some tall, suspicious looking men taking up positions at the ticket counters. I could tell he didn't like the looks of that too well.
"Come on, we'd better get out of here!" He propelled me toward the Hurts Car Rental station. Above it the sign proclaimed: "HURTS IS WHAT YOU NEED."
I could believe that so far as I was concerned, but I didn't see how it applied to Daddy although I had a hunch that he was going to get a little of that, too, before very long...
We tooled out in a sharp American-make convertible and went right down Pacific Coast Highway for the border. Gosh, I hadn't even brought my eye make-up along! How would it look to the photographers!
So we went driving and driving, and driving some more. I was starting to get plenty nervous.
"Gosh, Daddy-sweetie, can't we stop someplace for a bite of coffee?"
He looked nervously back at me. "Can't stop now. Got to hurry, I tell you."
I looked sullen and morose in response to this, and finally he pulled over to the side of the road. "Okay, baby. Don't be mad at your poppa-daddy. We'll get something to eat."
"Okay."
There was a diner across the road and we kind of trudged across to it. As I looked down toward the beach from where we had parked I could see that the cliffs were pretty rocky all the way down from where we were parked. That sort of gave me an idea.
I kind of remembered what pocket of his suit-coat Daddy had dropped in the keys to the car, and when I hung up my bolero jacket, I made it my business to lift those keys very gracefully.
Then I hollered equally as gracefully, "Gosh, daddykins, I've forgot my purse in the car I'd better go get it!" And before he could say anything, I ran out of the diner.
The car was parked off to one side so that pops couldn't see what I was doing. Hurriedly I opened the trunk and took out the little black bag, zipped it open and looked inside. Gosh! $500,000!
Wow! That was enough money to do most anything in the whole world. I grabbed the bag and slammed the trunk shut. Then I looked around for someplace to hide it.
Below this top ledge of the cliff there was a kind of an indentation and a tiny cave. I leaned over on my belly and dropped the bag in there. Then I clambered back up.
It was pretty easy to throw the car into neutral and just sort of nudge it over the cliff. It went piling down onto the rocks below, sort of screaming its mechanical life away, then exploded into flames.
I brushed myself off and returned to the restaurant to indulge in a leisurely meal.
"Mmmmmm, that was really good, Daddy."
He was very pleased to see me so childishly pleased, of course.
"Would you mind if I make a telephone call? Only take a sec."
He minded, but there wasn't much he could do about it. In a moment I was calling the local constabulary to notify them that the runaway embezzler from Plainville, Pa., was located within the immediate vicinity.
Pretty sad about that car going over the cliff in flames. Dad was pretty broke up about it. I tried to comfort him but along about that time a bunch of squads showed up from the local highway patrol and before you could say "Crook!" we were on our way down to the local cells.
The rest is history. Daddy was tried and convicted although the money was never found by anyone but me, of course and he spent his last days in San Quentin cursing the Fates and writing dirty letters to me. Too bad about that.
As for myself, all that publicity turned out to be pretty good for me. I appeared in SUNSPOTS and drew rave notices, then had bit parts in KISS AWAY THE DARK and WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME, and before you knew it I was on my way.
As for Dolores Jones, it was too bad about her.
She kept taking the wrong pills incessantly and screwing up her roles.
Finally I got one of her leading parts because I had studied up for it, and done a lot of studying of other things under B. L. Mizener, Janryk Foster, and Baron Flynn. Everybody canned poor Dolores but good, and she was really down in the dumps about it.
I managed to cheer her up on her last night, however, and she was kind enough to sign over all of her worldly possessions to me. Unfortunately she kicked the bucket the very next morning-heart failure, they said. Well, knowing my capabilities, that's pretty understandable.
So one thing led to another, and before you knew it I was a Star. Good deal. I was piling up millions, and by now I was such an important person that I could satisfy my obscene cravings any way I felt like it. I'd just see some stud I wanted and I'd say: "You! Come here!" They always came.
Like just last week, for instance.
I was in Schwab's having a good time being adored by everybody, drinking a chocolate soda as was my wont, and I saw this most gorgeous guy. He must have been about six-foot-five with the broadest shoulders the world had ever seen. I just rippled when I looked at him. He had raven black wavey hair, and the most striking face it was all hard planes and angles, with a square jaw, limpid blue eyes under long dark lashes, huge white teeth and a mouth made for kissing. He had shaved so close that his jaw was almost blue, and I had the hots for him right away.
So I just went over to his table, leaving my own group of admirers behind, and I startled all of the people he was with by saying: "You, there. Come here."
Naturally he got up right away and I had him follow me out onto Sunset Boulevard where we could talk. "What's your name?" I said, looking up at his beautiful physique, studying his hips and the sway of those wide, wide shoulders with the air of someone selecting a choice piece of beefcake in a meat market.
"Harvey Wolff," he said in a deep masculine voice.
"I suppose your friends call you Wolff," I said. "No."
"No what?"
"No, they call me Harvey."
"Well, be that as it may, Harvey, how would you like to come home with me for a little while ? " He bowed slightly, which I thought was kind of cute. "I am your humble slave, Miss Louvere."
The way he said that made me want to put a ring through his ear.
Anyway, so we went to my place.
By now I was living in a real sharp place up in the Hollywood Hills over Bel-Air you know where I mean, where you're just nobody unless you get burned out or washed down the mountainside once a year it had a big gate all around it and was guarded by a Great Dane faintly resembling the hound of the Baskervilles in that he had teeth like railroad spikes.
Harvey kind of dug it, too, as much as I dug him.
"Wow, this is really sharp," he said, and I was pretty pleased.
Inside I had my oriental man-servant fix us a couple of drinks, and then I led Harvey right up to the bedroom, where I started undoing his shirt. "Been in Hollywood long, Harv?" I said, kissing his hairy chest.
Gosh, he was hairy. He had a mat of black hair upstairs that could have been a rug. I dug him like crazy.
"Uuh no, in fact. In fact, I just got in from Spokane, Washington a few weeks ago."
But I didn't care if he'd come from the moon. I dug through the hairs and gave him a little nip on his nipple. He liked that.
I looked up at him. "Do you like me, Harvey?"
"Wow, I'll say." He fingered my blonde hair, admiring it.
"I'm a natural blonde, too," I said. "I'll show you." And with that I kicked off my heels and pulled up my skirt.
"See?"
"Wow," he murmured reverently, which is the style in which I like my murmurs.
Then he reached forward with his fingers to touch. I sort of squirmed; I'm so sensitive there.
Luckily I regained myself just enough to start to work again on his clothes. I got the shirt off of him and ran my fingers all over that massive chest. He was really beautiful the most beautiful hunk of man I'd ever seen in all of my hot young life.
My fingers ran from one shoulder to the next, flicking his nipples and finally teasing his hairy navel. Then I tugged at his trousers for dear life.
I was tickled silly to see that he wasn't wearing any shorts and if big men aren't necessarily big all over well, Harvey had no trouble along those lines whatever. He was immense!
And I was a little terrified that he might be too much
But now Harv was taking the initiative, and keeping my skirt up high he moved toward me and suddenly impaled...
I gasped as he pushed me backwards against the dressing table, propping me up on it...and doing something to me that made my teeth chatter...
"Oh, Harvey... " I whined. "Don't stop...please...don't stop... "
But he didn't need any coaxing. He filled me up and made me bigger yet...I'd never believed that any man could do that...he was just tremendous...
"Uhhnk-unk!" The way he jabbed me was painful but at the same time savagely thrilling, and it seemed that we were coupled for only a few seconds when I blew my brains out. . .
But that's how it is when you're a star you just take any stud that looks interesting or any girl, for that matter. I dug Harvey's terrific body and I simply told him to come along; he came.
I hope that some of the foregoing will give you an idea of the trials and tribulations in becoming a star. I'm thirty-four years old now, and something of an old bag, but I well remember those bygone days of my teenage years when I set the stage for my future career through hard work and perseverance.
Ah, but look what it cost me alas! My dear mother ended her days in an institution, my father in a cell. All of my closest and dearest went the way of all flesh. Tough breaks, wouldn't you say ? Alas!
Still, I have to admit there are some consolations. As a for instance the other day I had to go up to Mrs. McGillicuddy's to pick up my blackmail files, as she had only the night before suffered from a very mysterious death. And then, just out of sheer nostalgia, I went back upstairs to my old room...
Well, who should be living there now but a very slender, redheaded girl of seventeen who had come west from Iowa to break into the movies...
"Oh, Miss Louvere!" She was so startled when she saw it was me.
"At ease, child. I've just come upstairs to have a last look at my old room."
"Gosh, did you live in this very room, Miss Louvere?"
"Absolutely." I looked around. Not much had changed. It was still a rathole for bit players.
"Gosh you're absolutely one of my idols!"
"Oh, is that so?" I looked at her more closely. Any young girl with such fine discerning judgment deserved attention.
"Oh yes; in fact, I was president of your fan club back in my home town."
That sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before. I was too busy studying this slender redhead's exquisite figure.
What a body! She didn't have my big girl voluptuousness, but she was slender and well filled out in all of the most charming little teenage girl places. I craved her almost immediately, and I could feel myself filling up with my need of her.
I put my arm around her tentatively. She didn't back away. "Is that true? What's your name, my dear."
"Lorna."
"Lorna. That's a beautiful name. And I suppose you've come out here to break into the movies?"
"Oh yes, Miss Louvere. I want to be a big star, just like you."
That was sweet. Ever so subtly I moved her back to the bed and we both sat down.
"And what makes you think that you've got what it takes ? " I asked her, studying her carefully.
"Well, I've got a beautiful body, for one thing. It drove all the boys just wild back home."
I brushed my hands along her sides. I could understand that, all right. She made me feel wild myself. What hips, what slender tummy...mmm, could I crave...
She ran her fingers through her hair. "And I've got this long red hair, for another thing. It's never been cut. Would you like to touch it?"
Would I!
My fingers trembled, and when they reached her fiery tresses they felt as if they were being surged with electric shock. A sweet aroma rose up from her that was very, very clean and like nothing I had ever smelled before in even my wildest dreams. I itched all over.
I said nervously, "Well, you're a sweet girl, Lorna, but you know there is more involved to becoming successful than just having a beautiful body...."
"Is there ? " She surged closer to me, so that our silk stockinged legs were touching. Her eyes were so large and blue, her lashes so long, that I felt drawn into them as if they were a deep, bottomless well from which I might sate my thirst for the unusual and the beauty of youth...
I could take no more. "Yes... " I murmured, and with that I gripped her slender wrists and held her captive while I planted my lips on that rose-petal of a mouth...
At first she was startled, but then I knew that I was winning. Her delicate pink tongue surged towards mine in the most evanescent of searches, and I found it and caressed it, caressed the roof of her small mouth and her delicious white teeth with my own husky membrane...
She gasped as I broke the kiss off violently. She had probably never met anyone in her entire life who was so adept at the art of love as I am...
Gently I ran my fingers up her skirt and pried her sweet smooth young legs apart. I could feel them hot and musky with longing...I had aroused in her something she had never dreamed possible...this crazy lust for another woman's soft body to sate one's desires with...
I pressed my mouth into the slender hollow of her white neck vampirishly, and she moaned and fell back as I pressed my teeth into her pure white flesh...then I began to methodically remove her clothing...
The skirt...the blouse...the brassiere...to find the most lusciously succulent enlarged nubby nipples I'd ever tasted...her smooth white flesh...those silk stockinged legs...undoing those tabs and attacking her panties so that she moaned and clutched me all the harder...
Speedily then, I began to take off my own garments. She gasped in surprise at the huge splendors of my magnificent breasts, and dug her fingers into them, palpitating them, lifting them, putting one into her hungry young mouth while the other soulfully caressed my burgeoning nipple with tongue and teeth...
Ooooohhh...as we sank onto the bed, our silk stockings clashing, her legs becoming entwined, our panties rubbing amorously together, our breasts meeting in a kiss older than time, our mouths locked in combat, I felt a delirious joy that never left me for a moment until her exciting young fingers found my panties, ripped at them with her tantalizing nails, and thrust them aside to find the real me...the me that longed for her so desperately that I let out a cry of happy anguish as she found me, began manipulating me for our profound mutual enjoyment of the blisses of Bitlis...
I think that gives you some of the idea of what the advantages are to being a Star...
Lorna's been with me almost constantly now for the last year. She's a very sweet girl, and always fixes my evening tea before she comes into bed and lies down beside me.
She doesn't mind so much if I sniff it a little before I drink. And the reason for that is that I've suspected for some time that someone's been putting something...perhaps a drug...into the things that I drink...
But since Lorna prepares most of them, I can't imagine...
One night I woke up in a daze and she seemed as if she were about a million miles off and doing strange things to my succumbed body...
Be that as it may, though, she's a wonderful girl. I got her a part in my last picture, LOVE GODDESS, and a lot of people say that she stole the show from me, so I know that she's quite talented.
She keeps asking to meet important people, of course, and it's hard to dissuade her. She wants to meet agents, and producers, and other stars, and it's not always easy to keep her just to myself.
Sometimes I have to chain her right up to the bedpost and make her sit up and prance and walk around just like a horse or a dog pleading with its master for release. Sometimes I leave her chained like that one manacle around her lovely neck or around her ankle with just enough chain so that I can make use of her beautiful young body.
And one time we reversed that just for a lark, and she chained me and pretended that she was the master! Well, she likes going out so well that she refused to play the game my way and just left me like that for overnight! I was so mad I could have spit!
But she does like to go out, and sometimes I've seen some of the men I'm familiar with appearing too friendly with her. When I ask her about that she just tells me how obnoxious they are in their obscene advances, which is a relief.
She's a good secretary, too, and often prepares a lot of legal stuff needing my signature, so I've been able to cut legal fees right to the bone. She's a very thoughtful girl.
And very lenient with me, too. She never minds a bit who I bring home. I've picked up grips at the studio, and elevator operators, and beauticians, and construction laborers I saw working in the sun, and just brought them home to get something she didn't mind a bit!
I can't help it. I just walk the streets looking for interesting faces and bodies. And when I see something I like, I have to have it!
What line of work are you in? It's just possible that some day I'll be walking the street and you'll look attractive to me, and I'll just bring you home, just like that!
Lorna probably wouldn't mind loving you, either, if I ordered her to.
Do you think I'm bad? Are my desires any more evil than yours? Can I help it if I can afford to make all of my cravings come true ?
Of course, I'm a nymphomaniac, I guess, but I really can't help it. I've just got to have it all the time.