Outwardly, suburbia maintains the strait-laced middle-class look that belies the social ferment behind closed doors.
There is the secret use of drugs, fed by the marijuana syndrome. There is the river of alcohol flooding from door to door under the euphemism of social drinking. Then, of course, there is the advent of swinging and illicit sex. All in the spirit of good clean fun. But where does the fun stop and degradation begin? When one excess leads to another-and another-to what? When the children set as a pattern for their own life style what already is the norm at home?
This is the story of one family in one neighborhood in one city, Anywhere, U.S.A. The Mosses-Laura, the wife, Frank, her husband, and Sally and Steve, their two young teenagers. It is startling as a mirror of a way of life behind closed doors. No facade. No regrets. Indeed, for them it is the norm.
The norm.... For the Mosses, yes. And how many other families like them?
BLACKMAILED HOUSEWIFE-A novel of entertainment. A page of our restless society as food for serious thought.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
The way I had my legs spread I could see my cunt in the mirror. It seemed to be winking at me, saucily inviting me to touch it.
I watched my fingers slide over the top of my thigh and press against the drooling lips. Then, pulling apart the pink folds, I exposed my clitoris and stared at the throbbing button. Slowly I began to massage myself, circulating my fingers around the top of my snatch. Mmmmmmm, I was touching all the right places.
Even though I started to experience a series of miniature orgasms, I didn't take my eyes off the reflected action. I was hypnotized by the image of my own dripping twat.
Looking at my pussy in the mirror while I was masturbating had become a ritual for me. It made me feel like a voyeur spying on myself. Somehow this illusion of peeping helped me forget the depressing fact that I was having to get it on with myself again.
What was I supposed to do? Cooped up in the house all day long-washing, cleaning, ironing-I had no human contact after my husband left for work and the kids were off to school. Sometime I thought about forgetting to take my birth control pills so I would get pregnant again. At least a baby would give me something to do besides the drudgery of being a housewife.
If you've never experienced it, just try staying home sometime all by yourself, spending your days performing good deeds for the rest of your family. While you're washing their underwear, or making their beds, they're off in the outside world-meeting people, accomplishing things of importance to them, having their minds stimulated. Even school kids lead a more exciting and challenging life than a typical housewife.
If you've never experienced it. just try staying home sometime all by yourself, spending your days performing good deeds for the rest of your family. While you're washing their underwear, or making their beds, they're off in the outside world-meeting people, accomplishing things of importance to them, having their minds stimulated. Even school kids lead a more exciting and challenging life than a typical housewife.
For those of the uninitiated among you, I give you a week. A week of hanging around the house meeting everyone's needs but your own before you go stark, raving boobs.
Now then, to appreciate my plight, multiply that week by fifty-two-that makes a year-and then multiply that by fifteen. Fifteen years was how long I'd been doing this. Fifteen frustrating years of marriage. Doing nothing that meant a damn, at the same old stand. Sometimes, it made me want to puke. But if I gave in to that impulse, I'd just have another goddamn mess to cleanup. So, although it was probably going to cost me an ulcer one of these days, I held in my roiling cookies. Fortunately for the remaining shreds of my sanity, another impulse struck me even more frequently than nausea. The juicy scene which I was now witnessing in the mirror was its end result. I got horny. It could come upon me at any time. So suddenly I didn't know what hit me.
I'd be doing the laundry, for instance. In the midst of something as ordinarily unstimulating as sorting the socks, I'd feel my pussy itching. I'd try to fight it, but reflex made me scratch. Almost uncontrollably I'd stick a finger into my tingling cunt.
It felt so good there was no way for me to stop. Before I knew it I was in the bedroom instead of the laundry room. I couldn't even remember walking from one place to the other.
Where's my mirror? was the thing I'd think. I just had to see my cunt while I was doing it to myself. The excitement of watching my pussy juice flow while I finger-fucked myself would make me forget of how ashamed I felt for having to resort to masturbation. I kept my mirror stashed in the closet, saving it for my most private moments. Now I hauled it out and propped it up against the bedstead. When I was on my back with my legs spread before it, my cunt shone like a beacon. As usual I wasn't wearing any panties. Now I've brought you up to the present. You know where I was, what I was doing, and why I was doing it. Don't feel sorry for me, though-all my self-pity vanished the instant I began playing with my clit and feeling those beginning orgasms. "Ooooooh," I moaned, slipping my fingers inside my gash for the first time today. "God, it feels so good. Sooo gooood." My cunt was spasming against my knuckles. I began rhythmically sliding my digits back and forth. It was a delicious feeling. The faster I pumped the more I came.
With multiple climaxes whipsawing my senses, I temporarily forgot all about the boredom that ruled my days. The stagnant pond my life had become.
Finger-fucking myself faster and faster, I whipped my cunt into a lather. A dark stain was widening across the bedspread where my juice was dripping from between my legs.
I had three fingers within me already, but they weren't enough to take me all the way to the top of the mountain I wanted to scale. Quickly my thumb and pinkie joined the rest of my hand.
My knuckles bent and my fingers closed into a ball. With my clenched hand in my pussy all the way to my forearm, I began to fist-fuck myself. The mirror recorded it beautifully.
At least I could take satisfaction from the fact that my fist was bigger than the head of any cock, my forearm thicker than any shaft. In terms of pure friction, screwing myself this way was terribly efficient. No man, I convinced myself, could fuck me the way I did it to myself.
Believe me, I needed this rationalization. I was so bored and lonely as a housewife I'd have gone nuts without the ability to make myself come. Self-induced orgasm was virtually the only release I had for the tension which chronically kept me in its grip. Sometimes I thought about having an affair. After all, Frank was so pre-occupied with climbing the ladder of success he'd have never suspected a thing as long as I kept his shirts ironed and put dinner on the table promptly every night at six.
I'd think about the men I knew-or ones that I had just seen on the street-and imagine how I could seduce one of them. Even at night Frank was usually too busy with work he'd brought home from the office to pay any attention to me. and a substitute dick would do me a lot of good.
The more I thought about it. the hornier I'd get. For a long time I concentrated on imagining what our next-door neighbor. Hank Castor's cock looked like when it was hard. How it would feel engorging my cunt.
The problem was that I couldn't fantasize about having an affair for long before I became impossibly horny. Then it was into the bedroom, my legs straddling the mirror as I writhed on the bed. and I was getting myself off.
My fantasy of extra-marital sex had only materialized once, and that was a disaster even though my partner was Hank Castor. Unfortunately I couldn't remember a thing about it, except the guilt I felt the next morning.
My car had broken down a few blocks from home and I'd had to leave it at a service station. I'd been walking the short distance to the house when Hank drove by and asked me if I wanted a ride. When I got inside, he asked me if I'd like to stop for a drink somewhere. I agreed, and we had martinis in a dimly lit bar on the outskirts of the village. Hank had had a hard day at his office, wanted to forget the aggravation, and ordered round after round. Before long, we were both out of it.
Somehow one thing led to another and we wound up at a motel. When I got home I said I was ill and went immediately to bed, my head abuzz. The next morning when I woke up I immediately realized I'd fucked someone because my crotch was reeking with rancid cum. I put two and two together and broke into tears.
After that incident my sexual fantasies no longer included Hank Castor. In fact, I couldn't stand to face him. When the Castors invited us over to dinner, I told Frank to go without me because I wasn't feeling well. Since the drunken mis-step with my next-door neighbor, I had been on my guard. Whenever I started feeling horny, I dashed into the bedroom before my thoughts could take me into territory I didn't want to explore.
I'm not a religious woman, but I felt God was trying to tell me something. If it was all right for a married woman to cheat on her husband, then I wouldn't have felt so guilty about my one-night stand with Hank Castor. The truth was that all I recalled about my brief extra-marital fling was the shame I felt the morning after.
When thoughts about extra-marital sex threatened to invade my mind, as they did now, I fist-fucked myself harder and harder. Only the raw energy of orgasmic sensations could blot out my emotions. I told myself I had to keep pumping and pumping. Whamming the manacle of my knuckles to the juicy depths of my cunt. My plunging fist hurt me, but, oooh, it hurt so good. Now I was like a perpetual machine, fucking myself faster, faster, faster. The phone rang.
I didn't notice it at first, but the jangling continued. "Shit, who can that be?" I hissed, anxious to reach the ultimate climactic pinnacle before I had to deal with the outside world.
I tried to keep on fist-fucking myself as if there had been no interruption, but I just couldn't do it. After all my years of conditioning as a good little housewife, I was just too compulsive to let the phone ring without answering it. Reluctantly I pulled my hand from my snatch and got out of bed. I hoped it would be a wrong number so my pussy wouldn't cool down and I could quickly return to what I'd been doing without any loss in efficiency. "Hello," I spoke into the receiver.
"Mrs. Moss?" a muffled voice said. It was impossible to tell whether it was a man or a woman. "Yes, this is she," I answered. "Laura Moss?"
"Yes."
"I have something in my possession that you might be interested in."
It was beginning to sound like a novel approach to some telephone sales gimmick. "Whatever it is, I don't want any," I rudely said. "I think you'll want this, Mrs. Moss," the voice replied confidently. "In fact, to prove it to you, I'm sending you a free sample."
"Don't bother," I snapped.
"Oh, but I already have," the voice said. "It'll be in today's mail." There was a click and the phone was dead.
The mail was delivered between eleven and noon. It was now two in the afternoon. I couldn't restrain myself from going out to check the mailbox.
Along with the usual bills was a manila envelope with my name scrawled across the front and no return address. Suddenly a premonition seized me, and my fingers trembled as I opened it.
The pictures came sliding out immediately. They were in vivid color. I recognized the two people in them immediately.
Hank Castor and I were fucking. In photo after photo his cock filled my pussy. In a couple, my cunt was dripping with his gooey cum.
However, the last picture was by far the most shocking. In this one Hank's prick had moved down a notch from my snatch and was engorging my ass.
"Oh my God!" I shrieked. What should I do, I thought in a panic, tear them up, flush them down the toilet.
Then a note slid out of the envelope and stopped me in my tracks before I did anything impulsive. I was as stunned as if I'd been punched in the jaw when I saw what it said.
Written by pasting letters from a newspaper on a piece of paper, it superficially resembled a child's kindergarten project. However, its message quickly dispelled any such similarity.
"Dear Laura Moss," I read aloud in a quaking voice. "I'm sure you will recognize these pictures. I'm just as sure you'll want to have a complete set for your own collection. Preferably the negatives, if you know what I mean. I'll be in touch." It was unsigned. I didn't have to be very bright to figure out what this was all about. I'd just been thrust into the biggest crisis of my life. "Blackmail," I whispered in a frightened gasp. "Somebody is trying to blackmail me."
Jolted by this shock, my memory automatically began to function. With the filthy pictures lying in front of me as a guide, I began to recall what had happened that day in the motel room between Hank Castor and me.
CHAPTER TWO
As I've told you, to begin with I was drunk. One martini ordinarily makes me giddy, and Hank and I each downed three in that dimly lit bar where he'd taken me. "You know, Laura," he said during the last round, "you're really a good listener. I wish my wife was as understanding as you are."
"But Marcie's as interested in your career as I am in Frank's." I tried to reassure him.
"Don't bet on it," he shook me off. "She still resents the fact that she had to give up her own so-called career as an artist when she married me. She's just not satisfied making a home for her family the way you are, Laura." I was so bombed that I decided to take what he said as a compliment. After all, it wasn't very often that a man spoke appreciatively of me-especially one that I had been fantasizing about for months. "You know," Hank continued, "if Marcie could just be half the woman that you are, Laura, I'd be satisfied."
"Really?" I blurted, really reveling in the attention I was getting by now.
"Definitely," he said. "If only she'd realize that a man-likes a woman who's soft and feminine instead of aggressive and pushy. Somebody who knows just what he wants after a hard day in that corporate jungle out there."
"Well, just what is it that you want, Hank?" I asked coyly, feeling a little like a flirtatious schoolgirl. "As if you didn't know," he laughed, and then drained the rest of his drink. "Maybe I do, and maybe I don't," I continued. "Why don't you fill me in."
Hank was as drunk as I was, so he was not about to hold things in. "Take sex," he got down to basics. "Do you know what it takes for me to get a simple lay out of my wife?" I shook my head.
"I have to pay her," he boozily informed me. "You're kidding."
"No, I'm not," Hank insisted. "She says it's the least I owe her after ruining her career as an artist. She says if she can't get any money from her paintings, at least she can get it from fucking."
Ordinarily I would have blanched had a man used such foul language in my presence. However, with my usual judgment warped by alcohol, I found myself welcoming such lusty candor. Frankly, it turned me on.
"How often do you two have sex?" I asked without flinching.
"Whenever I'm desperate enough to whip out my checkbook along with my cock," he admitted ruefully. "But even after I've paid through the nose Marcie calls all the shots. For one thing, she has to be on top. Do you know how that makes a man feel?" No, I didn't. I had never screwed in any other position except the standard one on my back with my legs spread. "I'll bet when Frank balls you," Hand went on, "everything is just like he wants it."
I had no choice but to acknowledge that this was the case. Of course I didn't elaborate on my husband's total lack of imagination in bed.
"Well, that's what I want," Hank stated with considerable feeling. "Just a nice, soft woman who will fuck me the way I want and make me feel like a man. Jesus, I wish I were married to you instead of Marcie, Laura."
At this point I said something of which I wouldn't have thought I was capable. "Who ever said you have to be married to a woman to fuck her?" I purred. The inhibition-destroying alcohol in my system was talking loud and clear.
"Do you really mean that, Laura?" Hank searched my eyes as he leaned across the table. "It would mean a lot to me if you did."
"Are you propositioning me, Hank Castor?" I drunkenly giggled.
"You better believe it," he grinned. "I know a nice, little motel only a few blocks from here. Completely out of the way. What do you say, Laura?"
I said yes. By now my pussy was burning and doing my thinking instead of my brain.
The motel was the sleaziest kind of place imaginable, but I forgot all about it once I saw the bed in the middle of our room. I was stripped without being prompted and lying spread-eagled, panting to fuck the man who had occupied my day-dreams for so long. When his pants slid down his legs, I was delighted to see that Hank's hard-on was as massive as I'd idealized. In fact, even more so. I estimated it was a good ten inches in length. "Fuck me," I begged. "Stick your big cock in my tight pussy and fuck me until I scream."
"Christ, I love it," he enthused. "A woman who finally understands me."
Naked and bristling with masculine hairiness, Hank came to me and eased himself down on top of me. As his prick began to work its way between my thighs, he immediately began feeling my breasts and kissing me. My insensitive husband hadn't bothered with such foreplay in years.
Hank's stiff tongue plunged down my throat like I prayed his hard-on would soon do in my pussy. We were soul-kissing like teenagers on a date. His fingers knew just what to do to my turgid nipples. Ultra-sensitive in their erectness, they responded electrically to Hank's pinching and tweaking. Between my legs my twat was getting wetter by the second. The inner walls were already spasming in anticipation of an engorging cock.
Slowly Hank let his tool work its way into my gash. The head seemed to be equipped with radar tuned to an intense cunt frequency. It just naturally slid its way between my pussy lips without any extra help from its owner. I could feel him inside me for the first time and immediately wanted every inch. "Fuck me all the way!" I implored, breaking the kiss. "All the way down to your balls!"
"Unnnnhhh," Hank grunted, and lunged forward. I could feel sweat popping out all over his body due to the violence of his effort. "Mmmmm, that's it," I groaned with ecstasy. "You're on the right track."
Another grunt and he was in me to the hilt. I'd never been fucked so deeply in my life. It was like a whole new experience for me. Reaching down, I seized Hank's nuts and began passionately squeezing them. They were churning with the manufacture of cum.
He dropped his mouth from my face and began sucking my tits. Soon he had one of my nipples gripped between his teeth and was pulling it out from my body at least two inches. Just when I thought I couldn't withstand the glorious pain a second longer, he switched to the other one.
All the while, his cock was slamming away. Orgasm was building at the crux of my loins like a fire. Soon it would rage throughout my being.
I slipped a finger up the sweaty crack of his butt and began searching for his ass-hole. Even though I had never engaged in this kind of an act with a man before, I instinctively knew that it was the right thing to do. "Oooh God, that feels so good ... so fucking good," Hank moaned with uncontrollable pleasure. "Marcie hasn't fingered my ass since before we were married. Christ, that lucky Frank." I didn't contradict him. I was having too much fun. Sticking my fingers up a man's tight anus was a delight I'd denied myself for too long.
Automatically I found the lump of Hank's prostate. It was bulging through the membrane separating it from his rectum like a walnut. It jumped when I gouged it. "Come in me!" I cried. "Oh God, come in my cunt with your big, big cock!"
Hank ground away. His prick seemed to grow an extra inch in my fuck-hole. He was breathing harder and harder, and his free-flowing sweat was drenching both of us.
I inserted a second finger in his ass-hole and pinched the lump of his prostate. "Yeeeeeoooooowwww!" he screamed and the wet explosion I had been praying for occurred.
Even from the first spurt I was amazed at how much cum he had stored in his balls. Frank's jizz seemed weak, runny and sparse indeed in comparison with the next-door neighbor's creamy onslaught.
Hank kept coming in my cunt continuously for at least thirty seconds. When he was finally finished I felt like the Fire Department had tried to put out a three-alarm blaze between my legs with all the equipment at their command.
"Oh, baby, that was great," he said, when he was lying by my side, lighting up a pair of cigarettes for us. "Your box is as tight as a teenage girl's."
"It's not the only tight hole I've got," I incredibly heard myself saying. "In fact, I've got one that's even tighter than my pussy."
Hank coughed on his cigarette smoke he was so excited. "Are you telling me you like to do it in the ass?" he gushed.
"Do you know a woman who doesn't?" I worldly asserted, completely ignoring my absolute inexperience in such perverse matters. "Well, Marcie, for one," Hank complained.
"Then she's crazy," I snapped, and rolled over on my stomach.
Even though I had never taken a cock in my ass, my woman's intuition guided me with a sure hand. I was up on all fours now, twitching my butt in Hank's face and drawing apart my cheeks so he could peer into my crack.
"God, I love it," he expressed his admiration of my wantonness, as he began to finger the most intimate orifice of my body. "Your ass-hole looks just like one of those pink flowers you get on your birthday cake when you're a kid."
"Then why don't you eat it before you fuck it," I suggested. "Your spit will make the best lubrication for your cock that we could find."
Without hesitation Hank wedged his face between the cheeks of my ass. Engulfing my anus with his mouth, he began sucking like he was trying to draw the shit from my bowels. "Stick your tongue inside," I urged. "Make the hole used to something big, fat and hard."
Hank eagerly jammed his oral prod within me. It was the first thing I'd ever had in my anus besides a turd or a rectal thermometer, and it immediately tickled me into orgasmic frenzy. For the first time in my life I was coming in my ass.
Hank's tongue surged deeper and deeper until he must have been tasting crap. My bowels were convulsing the way my womb did during an exceptionally good normal fuck. God, I thought, if he can do this to me with just his tongue, what will it feel like when he's finally got his cock in there.
I couldn't stand the delay any longer. "Okay," I said, "You've got my ass-hole nice and juicy. Now fuck me there-really fuck me!"
His tongue pulled out of that tight orifice with a loud pop and Hank was scrambling up on my back like a dog getting ready to fuck a bitch in heat. I closed my eyes to quench my dizziness, my senses reeling from the anticipation of the anal penetration I so desperately craved.
Hank's prick had just as accurate a fix on my ass-hole as it had had on my cunt. With no guidance other than its own phallic instincts, his cockhead whammed against my ass-hole and began burrowing its way inside.
This was it. The moment of truth. My first buggering.
His thick cock was so tight in my narrow bunghole. The penetration seemed twice as powerful as when I took it in my pussy. "More, more!" I screamed. "Fuck my ass harder ... harder!"
Hank struggled to meet my demand. The pressure around his tool must have been just as intense as the chafing sensation of engorgement I was joyously experiencing.
Inch after inch of solid meat plugged its way up my shit-pit until the head of my next-door neighbor's prick was reaming my bowels. I could feel the flange scraping the shit from the tender walls.
But there were still two and a half, three inches of penetration to go until Hank was fucking my ass to the hilt. Believe me, I wanted it, even though I didn't know whether my body had room for any more cock.
"All the way to the balls!" I urged him.
"Are you sure you can take it?" he considerately asked.
"I'd be a fool not to try," I threw caution to the winds. "Now stop playing nursemaid and butt-fuck me until I can feel your hot nuts burning against the outside of my ass-hole." Hank was delighted. Apparently I was everything his wife was not. Well, that was fair. Hank was everything my husband was not.
Snorting like an enraged bull, my next-door neighbor put everything he had into the final plunge. At this point driving his prick any further into my rectum was hard work. "Don't give up!" I implored. "Don't stop ... keep fucking!"
Even though it was as hard as a rock to begin with, I could feel Hank's cock tensing as he fought for the final inches of insertion. The phallic projectile of stone jutting from his loins became a missile of steel.
I knew that the full pronging for which I was pleading was potentially dangerous. That the barb at the end of Hank's prick could easily tear into my colonic lining and cause bleeding. Maybe even a complete rupture of my intestinal wall and all the serious complications that go with something like that.
But I didn't care. Didn't give a damn.
I'd face the consequences later. Right now I had my heart set on ten inches of cock crammed to the hilt up my ass. Any other consideration was sheer trivia. "Deeper ... deeper!" I continued my desperate cheerleading. "Don't stop until you split me in two!"
There was probably an inch of Hank's prick left on the outside. Getting it inside my ass would be more work than all the other nine inches combined.
Plugging the last inch of cock up my butt was like putting the plug on a gushing oil well. It took a man with real nerve to ignore all the signs that my ass-hole couldn't take any more and keep on trying. And I was so grateful. Even though my rectum was aching, my bowels inflamed, it was the peak sexual experience of my life.
The peak, of course, would be raised by several thousand feet once that final inch of prick was filling my rear instead of being wasted on the outside. I imagined that the orgasm which would surely happen would lift me beyond the clouds into the stratosphere. "Oooommmpphhh!" Hank grunted, and with a animalistic lunge the deed was accomplished. He was fucking my ass all the way.
Immediately I learned that I'd been wrong in my orgasm calculations. Fortunately, on the low side. I wasn't in the crummy stratosphere. I was in outer space! And soaring!
I'd never come like this before. The thrill coming from my anus totally eclipsed anything I'd ever felt in my cunt. It was hard to believe that I'd managed to survive for so long without allowing myself this mind-boggling treat. In my climactic euphoria I was sure I had wings. No, correction. Rockets!
I was flying higher and higher. I was going to be the first American to go into orbit without the benefit of NASA. Getting fucked in the ass for the first time had turned me into a free-lance, female John Glenn. There was only one thing missing now. Cum, of course.
"Explode in my ass!" I hollered. "Wash the crap out of my bowels with your hot jizz!"
Hank gave it all he had, pumping away with increasing ferocity. Sparks seemed to be jumping from my butt.
"Cum! Cum! Cum!" I repeated endlessly. I wasn't about to shut up until he gave me what I wanted.
"Jesus!" Hank cursed. "My nuts feel like they're taming inside out!"
"Then pull the plug on them!" I cried. "Give me cum! Cum! Cum!"
A buck. A lurch. His cock expanded that tell-tale extra inch in the hole it was fucking.
Hank screamed. He bucked, he lurched again. He came.
Oh Jesus, it was great. Fantastic! The first rush of hot male cream into my bowels was the most incredible sensation I'd ever experienced. "Christ, I've never come this hard!" Hank incredulously admitted. "Your ass is like a vacuum cleaner, Laura."
He could talk all he wanted as long as he kept spurting. The flow this time lasted far longer than the one with which he had blasted my cunt. "I'm coming ... coming," he babbled. "Can't stop coming!" Neither could I.
How and when the pictures of us fucking were taken, I can't say. All I know is that it certainly would have been easy enough to do.
I was in such rapture, a whole photography crew could have barged into the motel room and set up their equipment, and I wouldn't have known. Getting fucked in both holes by my next-door neighbor was all I was paying attention to. Who was the culprit? The blackmailer? I had no idea.
When Hank and I were finally finished fucking I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. But then, quite frankly, enveloped as I was in the afterglow of perfect sex, I was in no state to pay attention to anything but my own tingling senses.
As a matter-of-fact, to this day I really don't remember much of anything from the time Hank and I stopped making love and when I woke up the next morning with my ass and pussy clotted with congealed cum. That was, of course, when the guilt started.
And now there was blackmail.
CHAPTER THREE
The manila envelopes kept coming. Every day for a week one of them turned up in the mail, stuffed with more and more photographs of Hank and me fucking. Always the sender promised through one of his make-shift notes that he would soon be in touch.
Finally unable to bear the anxiety on my own any longer, I called Hank Castor. Not at his home, of course, where I'd have to talk to his wife, but at his office.
"I'm sony," a secretary with a voice that sounded like a recording said, "Mr. Castor is out of town and is not expected back until the end of the month. Have you a message?"
"No ... no," I stammered with frustration. "I'll try again after he's due back."
So where was I supposed to turn now? My family was certainly of no use to me in this situation. If only there was someone I could turn to. A friend, perhaps ... Tina Powers!
Of course, why hadn't I thought of her before. Tina was my oldest and most trusted friend. She and I went back to the beginning of time, even though we didn't see that much of each other any more. If she couldn't set me on the right track, nobody could.
I hadn't seen Tina in over a year because she lived in the city. We had gone through school together as thick as thieves, but then after graduation we went our separate ways. I wound up with Frank in the stifling suburbs, and she pursued a career as a dancer in the wicked city.
Tina was the only girl I went to high school with who had never been married. That didn't stop her from living with guys, though, making her also the only person I knew who had ever shacked-up. I'm telling you, mine was a sheltered life. I tried to call Tina but the line was busy. Too impatient to wait, I got the family station wagon out of the garage and gunned it toward the city, praying I'd find her at the last address I had for her.
When I got into town, as usual I panicked. For a housewife from the suburbs, an occasional foray into the inner-city is like a trip to another planet. All of the dirt and grime and chaos and everything else Frank was trying to shield the family from were all around me.
I had never visited Tina at the place I was looking for, having learned of it from a return address on a birthday card. As I followed the city map laid out by my side and got deeper and deeper into the slums, it occurred to me that my friend's dancing career must have fallen on hard times.
If she still lived there, Tina's apartment was located over an adult book store. After searching in vain for a separate entrance, I realized I would have to walk through this vile establishment in order to get to her place. It would be my first time in one of these porno parlors that had even started to crop up in suburbia.
"Can I help you, lady?" a greasy looking guy with a five o'clock shadow said from behind a counter.
I tried to respond, but I was speechless. The panorama of lewd filth that surrounded me was breathtaking.
Every kind of sex act you can imagine was pictorialized on all sides of me. Women and men. Men and men. Women and women. Women with animals. Children. "Lady," the guy behind the counter said, "are you sure you ain't gonna faint?"
"No ... no, I'm all right," I lied. "It's just, uh, that time of the month."
"On the rag, huh?" he smiled as sympathetically as he could with his fox-like face. "I know how that is."
"I beg your pardon."
"Before my sex change I used to dread being on the rag," he replied with a perfectly straight face. "All that blood gushing out of my cunt reminded me of how much I hated being a woman." Christ, I thought, the weird people you run into in the city. If a creature like this were to venture into the staid suburbs, he'd be thrown in jail just on general principles.
However, despite my disgust, I immediately found myself wondering about his cock. If this guy really used to be a woman as he claimed, what kind of work had the surgeons done between his legs. Could he, for instance, get it up? And if he could, which sex did he fuck?
"Lady," the attendant said sharply, "this ain't the public library, and it ain't the Christian Science Reading Room neither. If you got business, then let's see the color of your money. Otherwise-out!"
"I ... I'd like to see Tina Powers," I stammeringly stated my intention.
"Why didn't you say so?" the counterman's disposition immediately improved. "Just go in there behind that black curtain in the back."
I assumed, of course, that the drapery to which he pointed concealed a stairway that led to the second story of the building. However, after several moments of groping in the dark, I realized I was mistaken. "Anything wrong in there?" the transsexual attendant responded to the scuffling I was doing in my confusion. "Need any quarters?"
"No, no, I'm all right," I called back. I didn't want to see him again if I didn't have to.
But what was this business about quarters? Did Tina have one of those locks like you see on pay-toilets to the entrance to her living quarters?
My eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness behind the curtain and a more plausible explanation became evident. Quarters were needed to operate the maze of peep shows which surrounded me. Now all I had to do was figure out what this had to do with seeing Tina. I dropped a quarter into one of the slots to try and obtain a clue. Well, I saw my old friend all right. Yes, right away.
And she wasn't dancing. In the film flickering before my eyes, she was doing nothing so much as sitting on a couch and reading a magazine. The camera shifted its angle and I could see what the magazine was. The situation was getting a little clearer-it was a porno magazine.
Tina quickly became aroused by the filth she was reading and slid her hand up her skirt. The hem quickly came up to her upper thighs, revealing no panties underneath.
Soon I could see her cunt. She had dropped the magazine and was devoting all her attention to finger-fucking it. It was obvious that my friend's pussy was every bit as sleek and flossy as it had been when I used to sneak admiring peeks at it during gym showers at high school. I couldn't help wishing our relationship had gone further than it had.
All of a sudden the screen went black. I got it, the machine was demanding another twenty-five cents.
When the picture returned, the action had jumped ahead a little bit, and Tina was now completely nude as she masturbated. She had beautiful, beautiful tits.
There was somebody knocking at the door. The camera showed it to be a saleswoman, something like the Avon lady. For some reason I was pleased that it was not a man.
Tina reluctantly got up from the couch and went to the door. "Who is it?" the sub-title reported her as saying.
"I have those products you ordered," the saleslady replied. I was starting to notice how attractive she was.
"But I'm not dressed," Tina said.
"I don't mind."
"Okay, then," Tina shrugged, and, stark naked, let her visitor inside.
I don't need to tell you what quickly happened. Tina had the second girl undressed almost immediately. I was watching a lesbian stag-film with my best friend as the star.
The picture went dead just as the two lovers began fondling each other's lush tits. I practically broke my fingers trying to stuff another quarter into the slot so I could get back to the action.
Tina was back on the couch now, this time with one leg hooked over the back, and the other flung across a coffee table. Her cunt was spread as openly as it is possible for a woman to do.
The other woman climbed aboard my friend, only she was facing in the opposite direction from Tina's head. Inexperienced as I was in lesbian matters, I couldn't quite figure out what was going on until a sub-title representing the gorgeous saleslady's speech flashed onto the screen.
"Let's sixty-nine," she said, and immediately everything was clear to me. For years I had heard mention of this numerically titled sex-act without knowing what it was. In a flash the mystery was over and I knew they were going to feast at each other's crotches.
Well, the movie went on and on, punctuated by countless quarters of course, until my purse was empty of that denomination of change. When I left the film, the saleslady was now spread-eagled on her back and Tina was fucking her with the handle of a brush from the sample case. The sub-title was something like Tina saving, "Oh, I've loved your products for years."
I bolted out from behind the curtain, I was ravenous for more quarters. I would have gladly exchanged a twenty-dollar bill for just enough more to see the rest of the peep show.
However, when I saw the smirk on the transsexual attendant's sleazy face, I immediately lost my nerve. Suddenly I just wanted to get out of there and find the real Tina, not the celluloid version that had to go to such degrading lengths to make a living. "Quarters?" the counterman leered like a drug pusher offering his wares.
"Certainly not," I tried to sound offended. "My inquiry was not about your filthy movies, but Miss Powers' residence. Does she still live at the address upstairs?"
"Of course," he or she said. "She acts in our movies to pay her rent. I'd have sent you up there in the first place, but you don't look like any trick to me. I didn't know old Tina was working dykes these days."
"But in the film I was watching," I blurted, "she was making love ... love to a woman."
"like I said," the attendant grinned, "it pays her rent. She'll do anything we tell her. I didn't know it was giving her ideas."
"Then how" do I get to her apartment?" I insisted.
"You go through the can. But if it's real action you want, sweetie, I can give it to you and won't charge you a cent."
I literally fled into the bathroom. Even though it was a grimy pit decorated with the most vile graffiti, it was paradise compared with being in the same room with the degenerate adult book store attendant.
I opened a makeshift plywood door in the middle of the far wall, and, yes, there the promised stairs were. Pounding up them, I tried to put all the sordidness I had just experienced behind me and concentrate on my reunion with Tina.
However, by the time I reached her front door and stopped to catch my breath, I realized I could not shake the image of what I had seen in the peep show. Throughout our relationship I had repressed my sexual longings for my best girlfriend, but now they were blazing beyond my control.
When there was no response to my knock on the door, I tried the knob, found it unlocked, and walked right in. If Tina was anywhere around, I was determined to find her. Forgetting all about the original purpose of my visit, I knew I would not be satisfied until I saw my old friend the same way in the flesh that I'd seen her in the dirty movie.
I got my wish immediately. Tina was sleeping in the raw on a roll-out bed. She'd kicked the covers off and I could see everything.
Reflexively stripping. I made myself as naked as my friend and joined her in the sack. Since she was already on her back, it was a simple matter for me to duplicate the sixty-nine I'd seen in the peep show.
I shuddered with excitement at the first taste of Tina's cunt. The thick hair was scratching my face, curling up my nostrils, sticking between my teeth, as I pressed the lips of my mouth against the lips of her pussy.
My tongue hardened and automatically began searching for Tina's clit. Ahhhh, there it was, protruding like the tip of a nail from the midst of the pink folds at the top of her beautiful gash.
When I tweaked Tina's stiff clit it was like pressing a magic button. With the slightest depression a flood of hot juice was released from the chamber of her pussy, and suddenly I felt like I was swallowing about a pint of my oldest friend's female cream. God, I could have kicked myself for waiting so long to make this move.
Tina started to writhe and moan in her sleep. My erotic attention had probably launched her into a wet dream. I wondered who she imagined she was making it with. "Tongue my cunt," I called back to her. "Sixty-nine!"
She responded with the alertness of someone who was fully conscious. First her tongue flattened like a slat against my labia, and then angled its way inside my spasming slit. My first oral penetration from another woman was driving me wild. "Harder ... harder!" I begged. "All the way to your teeth, Tina!"
When her incisors were chomping against the petals of my pussy, I returned full-bore to my own cunt-eating. This time my rigid tongue sniveled like a drill up her creaming fuck-hole. For the first time in my life, I was inside someone during sex instead of having them inside me.
Our tongues snaked deeper and deeper into the pits of our loins until we were rocking the bed with our orgasms. Being of the same sex, we each instinctively knew all the right places to touch. It continued until our breathing passages were congested with each other's pussy juice and we had to come up for air. At that time Tina started moaning that she wanted me to fuck her.
For the first time I was perplexed. Much as I wanted to, I knew of no way I could actually screw my horny friend. At that moment I would have sold my soul just to have a hard-on between my legs for fifteen minutes.
"In the drawer, Laura," she said. "Go get it out of the drawer."
I couldn't believe it, she'd called my name. "Tina," I shook her, "Are you awake?"
Her eyelids rolled back like they were being pulled by wires. "Jesus," she gasped, "I thought it was just a wet-dream, Laura, but here you are."
"Do ... do you really dream about me, Tina?" I stammered self-consciously.
"All the time," Tina smiled lasciviously. "Now go over to the dresser and get the biggest dildo you can find out of the top drawer and fuck me with it until I scream."
I didn't even know what a dildo was, but at this point I was more than eager to further my education. Needless to say, the instant I pulled out the drawer and looked inside I was a much smarter woman. It was like opening a treasure chest. But instead of gold and precious stones, a shiny pile of rubber, leather and plastic sexual paraphernalia was heaped before me.
At the top was the crown-jewel, though. A foot-long latex replica of the male hard-on. I knew immediately what a dildo was. "D-do I put it on, or ... or what?" I stammered in awe.
"It's got a waistband and elastic straps that go around the tops of your thighs like a guy's jock-strap," Tina informed me. "I swear, once you get it on you'll feel like a goddamn monster is actually growing out of your crotch. And don't worry, once you cram it inside my cunt you'll be able to feel everything."
With trembling hands, I removed the dildo from the drawer, brought it to my waist, and stepped into the dangling straps that would secure it to my body. My prayer would be miraculously answered and I would have a stiff cock between my legs with which to fuck my oldest girlfriend.
"Oh Jesus, will you look at that?" Tina gushed from the bed. "My little friend Laura's all grown up."
I had unconsciously closed my eyes while I was adjusting the dildo into place. Of course, when I heard Tina's excited exclamation, I immediately opened them. The sight was as breathtaking as it must be to stand at the base of Mount Everest for the first time. I'd estimated that the dildo was a foot long when I'd seen it in the drawer. Now that it loomed from my loins like a flagpole, it seemed more like fifteen or sixteen inches. All mine, to use as I saw fit. I strode back to the bed with much longer steps than I usually used. Inside I may have still been a woman, but my body was acting like Clint Eastwood's with a massive, movie-star hard-on. "Fuck me, Larry!" Tina altered my name for the occasion. "Fuck me, Larry, with your big, strong cock!"
Kneeling on the bed, I fell between her legs with my prick leading the way. The thing was so long that there was plenty of room for me to see when the knotty head blasted between my best friend's floppy pussy lips. Yes, I was fucking her. Fucking another woman for the first time. Fucking a juicy cunt with a thick dick. So this was what it was like to be on top. To do the fucking instead of being fucked. I'll tell you, I liked it. Hell, I loved it!
"How does my cock feel in your pussy, bitch?" I snarled like a man. "Big enough for you?"
"Too big," Tina whimpered as I jammed away inside her. "Oh God, too damn big." Really being a woman, of course I knew that meant she loved it.
I fucked my oldest friend harder and harder, going deeper and deeper with every grinding phallic thrust. Tina had been entirely accurate in her prediction that the dildo would enable me to feel every spasm of her pussy. Even though I didn't have any, I felt like my balls were fuming blue from the rising cum within them.
Finally our pubic bushes were ensnarled with each other's tendrils, our pelvic spurs grinding together like they were going to give off sparks. I was fucking Tina to the hilt.
How she could take so much cock I didn't know. Her body didn't seem to have enough breadth to accommodate the entire monster in her fuck-hole. It was amazing. And wonderful.
There was only one problem. An absence of one thing that prevented our act of love from being perfect-Cum.
As natural as the dildo felt jutting from my loins, I still couldn't produce the miracle of supplying my lover's cunt with a load of hot jizz. What a damn shame! "What's the matter, baby?" Tina noticed my frown and asked.
"I can't come," I explained. "God, I want to come in your pussy so bad after fucking you so hard and so long."
"Maybe I can help you out," she said, reaching for a carton of milk on the stand beside the bed. "It's been out all night, so even if its not hot it should be warm. Now you just keep fucking me, tiger, and I'll do the rest."
"Unnnhhh, uunnnnhhh, uuuuuunnnhh," I gruntingly blasted away. My husband and next-door neighbor, the two men I'd fucked in my life, made this noise when they were about to come. "Come in me, Larry, come in me!" Tina completed the charade. "Fill my cunt with your sweet milk!"
Milk, of course, was the key word. Right on cue, just when I aaarrgggghed, Tina tipped the carton between her legs and poured its tepid contents all over her snatch.
Quickly catching on, I began to stroke my cock back and forth with a play of several inches. This motion sucked the milk into Tina's pussy so that it really seemed I had come inside her.
As I pistoned faster and faster, the friction raised the temperature of the milk until it was as hot as real jism. Then, when it began to curdle, it was as thick and gooey to boot.
What a fuck! I hadn't been able to concentrate on the original reason for my visit to Tina since I'd first seen her naked body in the peep show.
Unfortunately, there'd be time for the ugly realities of everyday life later.
CHAPTER FOUR
"So that's the way it is," I finished up my sad tale for Tina. "Although no demands for money have shown up yet, I'm positive somebody is trying to blackmail me."
"Well, going to the cops is out," Tina said. "They'd want to talk to your husband, which I'm sure you don't want if you were screwing your next-door neighbor."
"Right," I agreed. "So what do you suggest I do? You're the only one I can come to for advice."
"I think I've got an idea."
"Yes?" I was ready to jump at any straw.
"Hire a private detective," my friend suggested. "A shamus."
"People only do that in the movies, don't they?"
"No, no kidding," Tina laughed, "I actually know one. His name is Nick Wolfe. He used to be a pimp and drug pusher and then decided to use his underworld contacts to go legit."
"How do you know him?" I asked, marveling at how she got around.
"Used to work for him when he was a pimp," she told me matter-of-factly. Tina wasn't the least bit self-conscious about the things she had to do to get by. "I've heard from the grapevine that his new business isn't going your case for a song."
I was intrigued, and told Tina to go ahead and call him. After all, what did I have to lose?
"He'll see you now," Tina informed me after she hung up. "His office is just a few blocks from her-right in the heart of the low-rent district."
Getting dressed, I thanked Tina for her help and agreed to keep in touch. Just so I'd keep my promise she gave me something of hers to borrow so I'd have to return it.
"I'm sure you'll find a use for this, Laura, even with all your troubles," she grinned as she placed the dildo with which I'd fucked her into my purse. "It'll help relieve the strain." I thanked my old friend with a hug and a kiss, and then reluctantly left. It was back into the cold, cruel world.
"Get what you wanted, sweetheart?" the outrageously sleazy porno attendant cracked when I had to walk through the obscene premises of the dirty book store to get to the street. "Stick it up your ass, you freak!" I uncharacteristically snapped.
"I'd love to," he cooed with rolling eyes. "Since I became a man, it's the only place where I can take it."
The outside, of course, was not much better. This was some neighborhood Tina had picked for herself. You could smell the rot.
Nick Wolfe's neck of the woods was even worse. World War II might have been fought on his block. Whoever heard of a private detective keeping an office in an abandoned building?
As I climbed the dark and creaking stairs, it quickly became apparent that the only other tenants were rats. Their beady eyes glowed in the dusty gloom as they squealed and darted away from my path.
Wolfe's quarters were on the first floor. Although business may have been bad, he still hadn't lost his sense of humor. He had a huge photograph of a bloodshot eye taped on the door telling the world that he was still in there pitching.
I knocked and the door almost came loose from its hinges. "Come on in," a gravely voice said. Its owner sounded like he smoked too many cigarettes. He was sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, wearing sneakers. He looked more like a beach ass than a private detective.
"Pull up a chair and park your keyster, baby," he said through clenched teeth, his cigarette bobbing up and down with the words and spilling ashes all over his Farrah Fawcett T-shirt. "Are you Nick Wolfe?" I sought to confirm his identity as I sat in a grimy second-hand store lunchroom reject. "Have gun will travel," he answered.
"Well, I, uh, have a problem," I jumped the highest hurdle. "Take a look at these."
With a sheaf of the manila envelopes in front of him, Wolfe began sorting through their contents. Even somebody with his sordid background registered surprise. "Wow, lady," he shook his head, "whoever's sending these to you has really got you by the short-hairs. How much do they want?"
"That's just the thing," I explained. "There's been no mention yet of a payment. Just more and more of those disgusting pictures, and a promise to get in touch with me later."
"And you want me to find out who it is before push comes to shove, is that it?" Wolfe filled in the gap. I nodded my head. "What is your fee?"
"Fifty dollars a day and expenses," he said.
My heart sank. There was no way I could afford that out of my household money, And if I had to go to Frank for more than my usual allowance, he might get wise.
"But of course maybe we could work something out," Wolfe sensed by anxiety. "An interesting case is always something I'm willing to take into account when deciding on a fee, and so are fringe benefits."
"What are you getting at?" I tried to force him to stop beating around the bush.
"Fuck me," he grinned.
"Right here ... now?" I blurted incredulously.
"Why not?" he smirked. "I don't think anybody's going to come in and bother us."
I was stunned. The last thing I'd ever anticipated was this. God, wasn't anybody above-board these days?
But what was I supposed to do? Tina had convinced me that I definitely needed the services of a private detective to get to the bottom of this blackmail hassle. With his cut-rate operation, Nick Wolfe was probably the best I could afford.
The issue quickly became a simple one in my mind. If I wanted help in stopping the blackmail before it started, I'd have to give in and have sex with Wolfe. But only if he agreed to the additional monetary fee that I set.
"All right," I said, "you can fuck me. Knock your fee down to thirty dollars with nothing in advance, though."
"Your pussy is good enough collateral for me," Wolfe leered. "Now why don't you strip and spread your long legs across my desk."
I felt like a robot as I emotionlessly removed my clothing. It was such a cold-blooded bargain Wolfe and I had struck that I had none of the feeling which I usually associated with sex.
The private eye liked what he saw. Before I was even completely nude, his cock was bulging in his pants. When he unzipped his fly, an enormous hard-on came springing out like the blade of a buck knife.
While I got on the grimy desk and spread-eagled myself, Wolfe hurriedly slipped out of his ragged attire. Stripped for action, he was a lot more impressive than he was clothed, but I still wasn't moved. All I wanted to do was get it over with so the bastard could start finding out who my blackmailer was.
"How do you want it, baby," Wolfe grinned lopsidedly, "fast or slow?"
"Fast," I answered without hesitation. Just get it over with, son of a bitch, I was mentally pleading.
"Good," he kept grinning, "I'll give it to you nice and slow. I know from having been a pimp that a woman always means the opposite of what she says."
Oh great, I thought. This guy's going to make me pay more than if I'd agreed to his first offer of fifty dollars a day.
However, I didn't see where I had any choice but to go along with him. They don't call it a man's world for nothing.
"All right, Wolfe," I sighed, "let's see if you're as good a fucker as you are a con-man."
Try a little of this," he hissed, shoving the domed end of his cock between my dry pussy lips.
Even though he'd vowed to take me slowly, once the head of Wolfe's prick was within me, I fully expected him to lose all restraint and greedily ram me to the hilt. However, he surprised me by concentrating on working his phallic crown around in my labia instead of impulsively shoving for further penetration.
For the first time I started to feel something between my legs. Ironically, in just nudging the mouth of my fuck-hole, Wolfe's dick was commanding more attention from my loins than if he'd plowed in to his balls. "How do you like my style, sweetheart?" he smugly asked.
"I've got to admit that maybe you do know something about women, after all," I confessed. There was no reason not to. My pussy was suddenly soaking wet.
"I knew you'd see things my way," he commented on both my remark and my discharge. "There's never been a cunt yet that could keep itself dry after it had the head of my cock inside it."
"How long will it take me to get the rest?" I homily inquired.
"Let's just say that I hope you're not expected anyplace until late tonight." Wolfe replied, and it didn't sound like he was joking.
His prick progressed up my twat by centimeters rather than the usual inch by inch. I'd never been flicked by a man who was this patient before. Despite their upstanding middle-class backgrounds, Frank and Hank Castor were barbarians compared to this otherwise uncouth man of the streets.
When Wolfe's thick cock was about a third of the way into my snatch, I began to bay like a bitch in heat. His slow, deliberate fucking was triggering erogenous switches within me that I didn't know I possessed. It was hard to believe that I was already coming so hard with so little hard-on in my cunt.
Now the detective began playing with my tits while he screwed me, pinching the nipples and making them swell with pain to go along with their innate hardness. When he had them good and throbbing, he lowered his mouth and began to suck them. By squeezing my breasts together, he could take both nipples in his mouth at once. It was like being the new mother of twins and having them both nurse simultaneously. Between my legs, more progress had been made in the meantime. If Wolfe's prick was ten inches long, then he had at least five inches of that within my cunt. For the first time I really began moving my hips.
I'd quickly realized you had to pace yourself in a marathon fuck like this, but a quick burst of energy at this point could hardly impair my stamina.
"Where'd you learn how to wiggle your ass like that, baby?" he asked. "You move your butt just like a pro."
"You mean like a whore?" I voiced his implication.
"You said it, baby, not me," he laughed, and then went back to fucking me.
Well, I might as well be honest. I felt like a whore.
After all, there was no way around it. I was fucking for money-the difference between the fee Wolfe had originally quoted and what we finally settled upon.
And you know what? Goddamn it, I liked it. liked the feeling of being my own woman that it gave me. Quite a switch from going along with the middle-class sexual demands of my husband and next-door neighbor.
You know what a high-priced hooker would do in this situation. She'd tease her man. Make her trick know that he was getting his money's worth so he'd become her steady customer.
If Wolfe could play with my tits, I could fool around with his balls. Mmmmmm, I squeezed them-they were as big around as eggs and throbbing.
What about his ass? Even Mrs. Frank Moss, drab housewife, knew that there's no man alive who doesn't like a long, squirming finger hooked up his ass-hole while he's screwing.
"Christ, that feels good," Wolfe moaned when I jabbed my digit up his tight rectum. He started to tell me to move it around in there, but he didn't have to because I'd already started.
The interior of his shit-pit was gooey with arousal. His prostate gland was beating like a heart just a few layers of tissue away. I could tell that when this guy finally came, it was going to be like the eruption of a volcano. When I inserted a second finger in his ass-hole, Wolfe reflexively lurched forward, involuntarily sending his hard-on a couple of inches forward up my twat. It was by far the biggest single penetration yet. "More, more!" I begged. "I'll stick my whole fist in your ass if it'll make you fuck me to the hilt."
"Greedy little bitch." he snarled satanically like the pimp he once was. "What makes you think you could take it all at once?"
"I know my own cunt," I stuck to my guns.
Then after a pause that started him wondering: "But I'm not so sure you have as much confidence in your equipment."
"Fuck you!" he fumed.
"That's the general idea," I neatly fielded his ire. "Bitch!"
"You told me you have gun will travel," I taunted. "Well, let's see this pistol travel all the way up my pussy."
"Okay, baby," he growled out of the side of his mouth, "but don't say I didn't warn you. After I pull the trigger, I'm not responsible for what happens to you."
"Shoot me, killer, shoot me," I dared him. "Murder me with your great, big cock."
Just to make sure it happened I crammed the rest of my fingers into his now cavernous ass-hole and made a fist. When I whammed toward his lower intestine, Wolfe had no choice but to buckle his loins forward. "Ahhhhh, that's it!" I exclaimed in a whooshing breath as the abrupt pile-driving of his cock knocked the air from my lungs. "Now we're getting someplace."
There were only about three inches of cock to go before my cunt had Wolfe's meat completely in its grasp. A couple of more belts with my fist in his ass would just about take care of that. Gritting my teeth, I pounded his shit-pit with a brace of internal punches. Wolfe lurched twice within me from the impact, bringing his balls just to the verge of my pussy lips. I took care of the rest with my pelvic equipment alone. If a woman can't suck in the last inch of man's hard-on without any tricks, she has no business having a cunt between her legs. The suction I produced in my fuck-hole made my twat seem like a vacuum cleaner. The last of Wolfe's prick flew inside my slit like ground-in dirt.
If you think I relaxed just because I snared the detective's hard-on to the hilt, you're very mistaken. Now was the time to really turn on the juice. I was craving Wolfe's cum like a drowning victim craves air. My body lashed into a frenzy, throwing my limbs and joints every which way and that. At the vortex of the action, Wolfe's totally buried cock was being whipsawed beyond belief. The friction was maddening. "I'm gonna come ... gonna come!" he babbled the obvious. "It's about time," I asserted my dominance.
With that, I snapped my wrist and yanked my fist from Wolfe's ass-hole with a deafening pop. Simultaneous with my knuckles leaving his butt, the detective gasped and his cock exploded in my cunt.
The cum came pouring into my pussy at a rate that was more like the spurting discharge of a ruptured water-main. The long, slow fuck had apparently teased Wolfe's nuts to the point where they had doubled their normal manufacture of sp But I still wasn't satisfied. As I felt the excess jizz begin to gush down my thighs, I got an idea for something that would even top this. "Fuck me in the ass before your prick goes down!" I quickly said. It was more like a command from a Marine drill sergeant than a request.
When Wolfe seemed too stunned by my sexual appetite to move, I unhesitatingly took matters into my own hands. About ten inches of matter, as a matter-of-fact-his long, hard cock.
Yanking his tool from my pussy with a single jerk, I dropped its head a notch to my pouting ass-hole. My one taste of this kind of sex with Hank Castor had apparently made me a hopeless slave to its perverse joys forever. "Fuck my ass ... fuck my ass!" I pantingly urged. "If you think my cunt was tight, wait'll you get your prick inside my butt!"
Wolfe had been definitely surprised at my zeal to keep on fucking, but he was a man after all so I didn't have to belabor the point once he got my message. With a quick, efficient pelvic jab, he had the head of his cock buried in the center of my anal orifice even more securely than he had placed it between my pussy lips at the beginning of our first fuck.
"Now nothing slow this time, buster," I told him. "I want it nice and quick before you realize you're not sixteen years old any more and lose your hard-on to old age." He told me I didn't have to worry, and then bared his teeth and plowed full steam ahead. Wolfe's prick seemed more like a sharpened stake than a bodily organ. "Yaaaggggghhh!" I screamed from equal mixtures of delight and pain. "Does it hurt?" he asked excitedly, anxious to have the answer be yes.
"Oh yes, yes," I moaned, "it hurts sooo goood. But it's still not in far enough. More, more!"
"This'll kill you," he boasted. "Is that a threat or a promise?" I stayed right with him, showing that unbridled femininity was as powerful a force as macho. Wham!
"More!" I screamed. Wham ... wham ... wham!
"How's that, sweetheart?" Wolfe was trying to sound like a suave stud, but in reality he was gasping like an asthmatic from the effort he had just expended. Oh well, I was perfectly willing to let him harbor his tough-guy illusion. I now had his hard-on up my ass-hole to the hilt and that was all that mattered to me.
Apparently these super-masculine types like my private eye were so basically insecure that they had to put on an act even when they were giving a woman all she wanted. Fortunately, I had so much cock up my ass that I could afford to be generous. I'd be the last to point out to Wolfe that down-deep he was more like a winded little boy than the combination of James Bond and Humphrey Bogart he imagined.
Besides, it was essential that I keep his confidence up. If Wolfe was going to be any good to me as a private detective, it was mandatory that he leave our sexual encounter brimming with self-assurance. What I needed to get to the bottom of the blackmail was a hard-eyed sleuth, not some guy acting like a moonstruck adolescent.
"Your cock is wonderful," I buttered him up. "The best I ever had, Nick."
Calling him by his first name for the first time really put the icing on Wolfe's cake. My big, bad, swaggering private eye just wanted to be liked like everybody else. "Now come in me," I kept it up.
Of course, I really didn't have to put my dramatic ability into any request for Wolfe's jizz. The rest of him may have been a neurotic tangle, but his cock and balls were beyond reproach. I'd already felt their liquid weight in my cunt, and now I wanted the experience duplicated in my ass-hole even more.
"Cum! Hot, creamy cum! Gooey, gooey cum!" I laid it on thick.
Since Wolfe's balls were now wedged in the crack of my butt, I could feel them roiling mightily. I fully anticipated an ejaculation even more copious than the initial onslaught in my twat. "Cuuuummmmmmm!" I buzzed like a bumblebee who's landed on an open mike attached to the Madison Square Garden public address system.
The resulting hisses of Wolfe's abruptly squirting cock were almost as loud as my vocal effort, even though it was occurring ten inches up my anal fuck-hole. Ahhhhh. at last I was getting what I wanted.
The jism kept spurting until there was too much of it for my rectal cavity to hold. The excess came bolting back the way it had arrived. All of a sudden twin jets of spunk sprayed from the sides of my cock-engorged bunghole. Instead of passively trickling down my thighs like the overflow from a cunt, the expendable cum shot out into the air.
My own orgasm was an accumulation of every climax I'd had up until now. Why try and describe it. The English language just doesn't contain the words to do it justice.
A little while later we were smoking cigarettes, Kick nude and sitting Indian-style on the top of his desk, me in a chair with his trench coat thrown over my naked body so I wouldn't get chilled in his drafty office. "You are a great fuck, baby," he said through the side of his mouth and a cloud of Lucky Strike smoke, "but now it's time to get down to cases."
"Whatever you say, Nick," I put my fate in his hands.
"I'm hitting the streets tomorrow morning," he said confidently. "If there's anything on the grapevine, I promise it'll get to me."
"What about me?" I asked. "What do I do?"
"Just go home and act natural," he said. "If any more pictures show up in the mail, just hold on to them."
"What if the blackmailer gets in touch? Finally names his price," I gravely mentioned the inevitable.
"Then get in touch with me right away." Wolfe answered. "But unless that happens, just take it easy, babe. That's an order."
"Take it easy," I muttered his directive on my way out of the office. It seemed as impossible as successfully convincing myself I could fly to the moon with my arms.
CHAPTER FIVE
Home was like hell with so much on my mind. The pressure of waiting was excruciating.
Maybe if I'd had a job I would have been able to throw myself into my work and enough challenges would come up to distract me. But a housewife? Forget it. The occupational hazard in pro football is twisted knees. In baseball, sore arms and pulled muscles. The occupational hazard of a housewife is terminal boredom. Existing in my domestic vacuum was like asking for it. Every fear, every anxiety got through to me. Jesus, I was a wreck.
Frank and the kids must have noticed it, but they said nothing. For once I was grateful of the distance that had developed between me and the members of my family. I was such a bundle of nerves that I actually started to hope that the blackmailer would call. Just cut out all the shit and make his demands.
Or was it a her?
I'd never thought of that. After all. there'd been no way to tell so far.
Christ, why was I torturing myself this way? What new thing would I think of to worry about next?
Rnnnnggggg, the phone jangled as I was in the kitchen trying to concentrate on preparing a tuna casserole. I dropped my utensils and jumped in the air like I always did nowadays when I heard the damn thing. "H-hello," I stammered into the receiver. "M-Moss residence, Mrs. Moss speaking."
The reply was heavy breathing. I wondered if in the midst of my vigil for the blackmailer, I had been interrupted by an obscene caller. All of a sudden I was angry. How dare this freak take up my time when I had so much on my mind. Son of a bitch! "Hello!" I snapped with all the firmness I had been unable to summon only seconds earlier. "Who the hell is this?"
More heavy breathing. It sounded like somebody had left an outdoor pay-phone off the hook someplace where there were high desert winds. "Kinky bastard!" I screamed. "I don't have time for this crap-I'm hanging up."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the raspy breathing became a familiarly muffled voice. "I think this is the call you've been waiting for, Mrs. Moss." My heart shot to my throat like a cannonball and stuck there. It was cat-and-mouse time again, and I was the mouse and the blackmailer a panther. "Did you get the pictures today, Mrs. Moss?"
"Yes."
"Beauties weren't they, Mrs. Moss. Why don't you get them out and look at them again."
I was so terrorized that my mind had switched off. The blackmailer's command controlled my brain like I was hypnotized.
"Do you have the photographs?" I was asked when I returned to the phone.
"Yes."
"Describe them to me."
"In the first one I'm taking it in the ass," I said in a monotone. "How deep?"
"Hank's cock is in almost all the way to the hilt," I obediently reported. "Just an inch or so of it is showing. His balls are touching my ass."
"Okay, the next one. What's in that picture?"
"It's a long shot of the same scene. You can see our faces."
"What are you doing, Mrs. Moss?"
"I seem to be screaming."
"Do you have any reason why?"
For the first time since the conversation began I started to feel something. A little twinge of memory sent a shiver down my spine and created warmth between my thighs. "I was really enjoying myself when this picture was taken," I honestly stated. "Hank's huge cock felt so good in my ass."
"Now your lover. What is his reaction?"
"He loves it," I said. "He's reacting like any man would with his prick inside a woman's tightest hole."
"Now the next picture. What's happening?"
"Hank has come," I quickly described the action. "My ass is dripping with his jizz."
"Do you remember how you felt at that moment, Mrs. Moss?"
"I was flying," I admitted, the tone of my voice abruptly rising an octave from the inner excitement I was starting to feel from the memory of it. "How did your lover's cum feel in your ass-hole?"
"Marvelous!" I blurted, rapidly losing control of myself. I'd had a lot of these mood swings lately, but nothing like the emotional pendulum on which I was now riding. "Was it hot?"
"Yes, and thick ... so thick," I almost babbled. "I know, I know," the voice at the other end of the line clucked smugly. "I was there."
As aroused as I had now become, my awareness of the central purpose of the call was abruptly re-established in my mind. "What do you want from me?" I automatically asked the obvious question under the circumstances. "Just a friendly conversation," was the astonishing reply. I was sure it was supposed to be a joke. "What about the money?" I read the handwriting I was certain was on the wall. "Everybody has their price, but don't be sure what mine is," was the startling reply. "Then what do you want?"
"Right now I've got a little something in mind that won't cost you a cent, Mrs. Moss."
"Such as?" I gulped.
"Strip."
"I beg your pardon."
"Take off your clothes while you're talking to me on the phone." the voice said firmly. This was no joke. "Tell me what's coming off and what's uncovered."
"I ... I'll start with my blouse," I indicated my inability to disobey. "Fine, Mrs. Moss. Start unbuttoning."
like a robot, I did as I was told. Within a few seconds the front of my blouse was hanging open. "My bra is showing," I dutifully reported my progress. "Why are you wearing a bra, Mrs. Moss?" the voice chuckled. "You have beautiful tits."
"People stare at me at the shopping center," I impulsively revealed something I'd never told anyone. "My breasts bob up and down without a bra, and the nipples get hard and show."
"I know," the voice absolutely floored me. "I saw you one day when it was really sweltering last summer."
My first clue as to the blackmailer's identity! Had I been in full possession of my faculties I would have followed up on this unexpected hint.
Unfortunately my mind was total chaos. My caller had succeeded in getting me so sexually aroused that I was more interested in taking my clothes off than in trying to figure out who he or she might be.
"I'm undoing my skirt," I purred mindlessly. "And I'm not wearing any panties."
"I'm glad to hear that, Mrs. Moss."
"I'm nude from the waist down," I revealed when my skirt was a shapeless heap of cloth on the floor. "Looking straight at my pussy."
"Spread your legs and describe what you see down there, Mrs. Moss."
"It's dripping. Sopping wet. The upholstery of the chair is being stained."
"Put your fingers into your cunt, Mrs. Moss."
I eagerly did so. The warmth that immediately slopped over them was wonderfully gooey.
"Now put your fingers in your mouth and suck them. Suck the pussy juice from your hand, Mrs. Moss."
"Mmmmmm," I pronounced the sticky discharge delicious.
"Now proceed with the rest of the strip-tease, Mrs. Moss. I want you topless as well as bottomless."
Shucking the hanging blouse, I reached behind to undo my bra. When the clasp unsnapped and the cups fell, I could feel my tits bob up and down like they were made of jelly. "My breasts are free," I announced.
"What about the nipples, Mrs. Moss? Are they good and hard?"
"Yes ... yes!" I panted.
"Not as hard as they could be, I'll bet. Why don't you play with them. Play with your nipples, Mrs. Moss. Those nipples I saw poking through your sheer blouse that day last summer at the shopping center." I'd never been more willing to do anything. I was a total slave by now to this disembodied voice that told me what to do with my body.
My lush nipples felt like ripe strawberries between my pinching fingers. However, instead of squashing when I squeezed them, they only became firmer. Pretty soon they were more like pebbles than fruit. "Tell me about your nipples now, Mrs. Moss."
"They're like rocks," I excitedly reported. "They've never been so hard."
"Okay, Mrs. Moss, now that you're nude and horny I want you to really do something to yourself."
"What?" I gasped. I hoped the suggestion was outrageous.
"Fuck yourself. Find something in your house shaped like a man's cock and fuck yourself with it."
I sniveled my head, quickly making a visual search of the premises. My gaze lit on my purse like a hungry fly landing on a chunk of raw meat.
In the few days since I'd visited her, I'd never removed Tina's dildo from my pocketbook. I'd been so distracted that I'd forgotten all about it until now.
"Excuse me," I said into the receiver. "I've got to get up and get something."
"Then you've found something appropriate for that tight cunt of yours."
"You better believe it," I gushed, and bounded up toward my dildo-engorged purse.
My caller knew I had returned when I moaned into the phone. I was stuffing the head of the latex cock between my spread pussy lips. "You're sticking it inside you, aren't you Mrs. Moss?" For the first time the voice was betraying its owner's arousal. "Yes, my cunt is swallowing inch after inch of the nearest thing to real cock there is."
"A dildo?" was the excited question. "Yes, the best there is," I boasted.
"You got it from your old friend Tina Powers, didn't you Mrs. Moss?"
"How did you know?"
"There's a lot I know about you, Mrs. Moss," the voice preened. "That should be more than apparent to you by now." That put me in my place.
"Stop asking questions, Mrs. Moss and just fuck yourself with your friend's dildo."
In the grip of the voice's power, I closed my mouth and gave the rubber cock between my legs a great, big shove. When my mouth abruptly re-opened, it was not with another question but a long, low groan o crammed up my pussy.
"All the way, Mrs. Moss!" the voice exhorted me. "Don't stop pushing that monster inside you until you can feel your knuckles scraping against the lips of your cunt."
"Oooommmpphh!" I snorted from the effort of doing as ordered. I must have been reaching the hilt because it felt as though I were being ripped in two. "All the way, Mrs. Moss!"
"Oooooommmpphhh!"
"How about it, Mrs. Moss?"
"It's in all the way," I breathlessly verified the action. "All I can see are the elastic straps and my fist against my pussy."
"Now really fuck yourself, Mrs. Moss. In and out. Back and forth."
My wrist became the universal joint in an abruptly pumping piston. The dildo began to travel up and down the tunnel of my snatch like a subway train with a drunken conductor. "How does it feel? Mrs. Moss, tell me how it feels."
"Soooo gooood," I erotically sighed. "I've never had so much hard-on in my pussy before."
"More than your husband's ... or Hank Castor's?" the voice asked.
"Oooooh, much, much more," I gasped, as I kept on pumping. "They were both like boys compared with this brute. It feels like I have a telephone pole between my legs." Although I didn't say so, secretly I wished my caller had his or her camera here. Photographs of the massive dildo up my cunt would put the ones of me and Hank to shame. "How do you feel, Mrs. Moss?"
"Oh God, I'm coming!" I blurted. "Coming so hard. It's fantastic!"
"I'll bet you'd do anything for some jizz to match your orgasm, wouldn't you Mrs. Moss?"
I rasped that I would. More than anything else in the world. And not just cum, but enough to match the size of the cock engorging my thirsty pussy. "You can haw it, Mrs. Moss," the voice assured me. "Just close your eyes and keep fucking yourself and I'll do the rest." I sealed myself in darkness, trusting my fate to my blackmailer. Faster and faster I grooved away with the dildo, confidently waiting the gooey eruption which I had been promised.
"Feel the cock thicken a little bit in your snatch," the voice at the other end of the line spurred my imagination. "You can feel it swelling, can't you Mrs. Moss?"
"Yes, yes," Incredibly I could. The power of suggestion had even exceeded the thrusting power of the dildo. Any object has its limitations, but the human imagination is limitless.
"The man on top of you is grunting, isn't he Mrs. Moss?" my caller invented a lover out of thin air for me. Abruptly I could feel a hairy male body grinding sweatily between my spread legs.
Yes, the man with the biggest prick in the world was fucking me. Getting ready to come in my cunt. My belief was total and I could hardly wait for the drenching explosion.
"Your lover lurches inside your pussy, Mrs. Moss," the blackmailer guided me toward the conclusion of this bizarre incident. "His hard dick is back in you to the hilt. He's ready to come at "Come in me. come in me! Christ, please come in me!" I shrieked hysterically.
"Your lover is slamming his pelvis into your crotch, Mrs.. Moss. He's coming, He's coming! Feel the eruption rattle you so you can feel it in your teeth."
"Unnnnhhhh," I moaned excitedly on account of the non-existent sperm. "This is too much!"
"It's thick and hot. Flooding your cunt, Mrs. Moss. You've never had so much cum in your pussy before."
"More, more, I want more!" I cried, totally engulfed by the fantasy.
"Do you want to cripple the poor man, Mrs. Moss," the blackmailer chuckled. "You've already turned his nuts inside-out. He won't be able to stand up straight for a week as it is."
"More!" I feverishly insisted. "My, you are a greedy one."
"More ... more ... more!" I was still chanting at the top of my lungs when there was suddenly a click at the other end of the line. "Please, please, where did you go?" I frantically asked. "Don't leave me still wanting more!" But my reply was just the impersonal buzz of a dial tone. The blackmailer had hung up. I was alone again.
Just like that the spell was completely broken.
When I pulled the dildo out of my cunt, I saw that both phallus and slit were wet with only the clear moisture of my own juice. The opaque white creaminess of male cum was nowhere in evidence. "Well, Laura, back to the trenches," I wearily muttered to myself as I got up to return to real life. I needed a stiff drink to calm my nerves and then I'd see about getting in touch with Kick Wolfe.
CHAPTER SIX
I was informed by some nasally rude telephone operator that Nick's phone had been disconnected because he hadn't paid his bill. I took it in stride, considering it a miracle that he had ever managed to get one installed in an abandoned building in the first place.
Of course, what this meant was that I had to invent some excuse for Frank and the kids so I could get out of the house tonight and go into the city. Although the blackmailer hadn't mentioned the terms of his or her extortion, I was sure Nick would want to know about the startling call I received. Perhaps if he had more detailed facts about my tormentor, Nick would be able to track him or her sooner.
Leaving a note with some lie in it about visiting my sick aunt taped to the tuna casserole, I got out the house before I had to face the family. I'd been such a meek little dust mop for so long, they'd have too many questions if I told them I was going out for the evening. They knew there wasn't a PTA meeting scheduled so they'd give me the third-degree.
It was dark by the time I reached the inner city. Nick's neighborhood was merely broken-down and sleazy by the light of day. At night it was absolutely terrifying.
It took a lot of courage for me to make the trip up those creaky, rat-infested stairs to Nick's office. Needless to say, it didn't help my morale when it turned out he wasn't there.
Fortunately Nick had illegally hooked into some paying customer's power-line, so there were lights inside his office which I could turn on. Rummaging through his desk, I looked for some indication of where he might be.
The only possibility I came across that hinted at his whereabouts was a pile of matchbooks from some dive called The Tender Trap. It was located within walking distance, and advertised itself as "The Mecca for Topless and Bottomless."
The idea of going into a place like The Tender Trap both repelled and intrigued me. I was getting used to such conflicting feelings, though. Mental confusion had become par for the course ever since my life had been changed by the threat of blackmail.
My journey from Kick's office to The Tender Trap made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. God, what a jungle the city had become in the last decade.
Halfway to my destination a drunken sailor lurched out of an alley, falling across the sidewalk and blocking my path. I jumped into the gutter just in time to avoid a shower of vomit.
However, even though I'd steered clear of being splattered with puke, my nimbleness was put to an even sterner test. Out in the street I was a sitting duck for traffic, and drivers around here were all too juiced or stoned to pay any attention to hapless pedestrians. Anyone dumb enough to travel these mean streets by night was on their own.
Specifically, a pimpmobile the size of a Rose Parade float came careening around the comer, apparently dead-set on reducing me to a grease-spot on the asphalt. Since the car was black, and the driver was too, I didn't see a thing until it was right on top of me. Apparently, it wasn't seen as necessary for motorists to rum on their headlights after dark in the netherworld of the inner-city. Any cops around were probably negotiating the size of their bribes.
"Hey, mama," my near-assassin called out of his window after narrowly missing me. "What you doin' walking my street?"
"I beg your pardon," I replied from the spread-legged heap into which I'd fallen to save my life.
"You aint' one a my bitches," he snarled, the only apparent aspects of his coal-black face being his gleaming eyes and shiny teeth. "If I see you around here again, I'll cut you with my razor."
"Whew!" I gasped to myself after I'd shot to my feet and ran away. The front line in Vietnam couldn't have been this brutal.
The challenge, however, was just beginning. Anybody used to the soft life of the suburbs who ventured into the inner city deserved a Purple Heart.
"How much for a fuck?" a tanked-up Marine inserted himself in my way and asked me. Before I could figure out which way to move, he'd unzipped his fly and had his stiff cock hanging out.
I swear, I kicked him in the nuts. I'd always known it was the only sure way of incapacitating a man who wouldn't take no for an answer, but this was the first time I'd ever had to try it. Needless to say, it worked like a charm and I left my yowling victim behind me as I closed in on The Tender Trap.
I saw the flashing neon of my destination after traveling another block, but if I thought I was home free I was badly mistaken. On the streets of the city a few feet of turf was more fraught with peril than miles somewhere else. "Whaddaya think you're doin', bitch?" a voice of my own sex hissed invisibly at me from a shrouded doorway.
I started to run, but a pursuer's footsteps quickly joined mine. Already winded from my previous adventures, I was easily overtaken and wrestled to the ground. A tough-looking dame with some teeth missing was on top of me. Murder was in her beady eyes.
"Life is tough enough without more rats in the race," she seethed, "If you wanna fuck for a living, start at the bottom like everyone else." The bottom? God, what could be lower than this.
Fortunately, my attacker relaxed enough after thinking she had me buffaloed for me to wrest free. Then, as the chase was about to resume, I had another piece of luck when a stray man came walking down the street. Seeing a potential customer, my prostitute assailant forgot all about me and went after some business.
By the time I finally made it to The Tender Trap. I felt like I had just traveled over a mine field. I was sure that nothing inside could shock me after the ordeal I'd endured just to get here. I was wrong.
Picture hell. A place where all of life's human rubble winds up. When you do. you've got The Tender Trap.
A nude woman was doing something on stage that was supposed to pass as dancing, but which in reality was nothing but raw sex. Most dancers, of course, dance with their legs; she was performing with her cunt. "Wanna eat me, soldier?" she said to a guy in uniform at ringside.
He did, and instantly she was squatting in front of him, pressing his face between her open thighs. I could hear the eager sucking all the way across the room. "What'll it be, lady?" A beefy bartender eyed me suspiciously. "Is Nick Wolfe here?" I asked.
"Sure, right in his usual spot," the bartender laughed. "You one of his chippies from the old days before he wrecked himself going legit?"
"Where is his usual spot?" I ignored this assault on my dignity.
The bartender disgustedly gestured with a tree-like arm down to the furthest end of the bar. "Good luck," he laughed derisively, "your boyfriend's been passed out for an hour."
"Nick, wake up!" I said sharply in Wolfe's ear as I vigorously shook his slumped form. "I have to talk with you." I did get a groan out of him. but that was about all. He was pickled in alcohol.
The only thing to do was wait until he sobered up. It might be all night, and Nick certainly seemed a wash-out as a private eye, but I just had to tell someone about the call I'd received today from the blackmailer.
To pass the time, I locked an arm through the elbow of the sprawled detective and pretended he was my date so I could watch the floor show without being molested. At least the action on stage was unusual enough to make my period of waiting go quickly. The dancer was now off the stage. Her place had temporarily been taken by a sleazy M.C., who was now incurring the wrath of the horny crowd with a string of corny jokes. "Cunt! Cunt!" somebody yelled from the back of the room. "We want cunt!"
The rest of the audience took up the cry, and quickly the rafters were shaking from the chant of, "Cunt! Cunt! Cunt!" The Tender Trap was a madhouse.
Ducking flying debris, the M.C. wisely abandoned his monologue and made haste to introduce the next dancer. Of course he couldn't resist one last joke. "If this girl doesn't give everyone in the audience a hard-on," was his last line before he scurried like a roach for safety, "I promise the management will make her turn in her pussy."
I hadn't caught the new performer's stage-name, but even if I had, I doubt it would have prepared me for the shock of actually seeing her. After all, there are a lot of girls named Tina.
Yes, up there on stage wearing only pasties and a spangled G-string was my old friend Tina Powers. In addition to dabbling in sidelines of prostitution and dirty movies, her dancing career had come to this.
As the music became wilder and wilder, she slithered all over the stage. She could still do wonderful things with her body. I felt myself getting hot, turned-on by what I was now seeing and the recollection of what had happened between the two of us in bed last week.
When the record changed, and Tina launched into a slow, sultry number, I felt myself drawn to her. The need to be closer to the stage became overwhelming. When she removed her scanty attire and was completely naked, I could no longer resist the urge. Sure that he wasn't going any place, anyway, I left Nick zonked on the bar and probed my way in the dark to a vacant table, the nearer the stage the better. Tina was doing the splits now, and at ringside you could probably see up her cunt to her ovaries. The place was pretty well packed, but to my surprise there was a table right at the comer of the stage that seemed unoccupied. It was only after I sat down that I realized there was a lone patron sitting there, obscured until now by the darkness. "Mind if I sit here?" I asked, hoping whoever it was wouldn't get any incorrect ideas. After all, I'd already been mistaken as a whore several times already this evening. "Not at all," was the answer. However, the civil tone was not the biggest surprise. Even the fact that it belonged to a woman wasn't the ultimate shocker. "Marcie Castor!" I responded to the startling familiarity of the voice. "What are you doing in a place like this'? "
"I might ask you the same question, Laura," my next-door neighbor calmly replied. "This is hardly one of those PTA meetings you attend so religiously."
Even though Marcie had as much explaining to do as I did, I suddenly felt on the defensive. "I ... I came to see my friend," I gestured toward the stage. "She, uh, got a new dancing job."
"Bullshit!" Marcie snorted in the dark.
"No, really," I protested. "That's Tina Powers-she and I went to high school together."
"She may be Tina Powers, but this is no new job for her," Marcie scoffed. "She's been slinging her ass around on these boards for at least six months now."
"How do you know?" I blurted, my curiosity abruptly eclipsing my anxiety. "Because I'm a fan," Marcie matter-of-factly informed me. "What about Hank?"
"What about him," she laughed scornfully. "He's probably off with one of his girlfriends, and, besides, he thinks I'm at my Transcendental Meditation class."
"Aren't vou afraid he'll catch on sooner or later?" I asked.
"The last place he'd think to look for me is in a dive like this, digging the bodies of other chicks," Marcie answered with a hard edge in her voice. "Then you're a ... a lesbian?" I gasped.
"As they say on the streets, my dear," she clucked with superiority, "a diesel dyke."
Now I understood why Hank was always chasing other women. His sex life at home was probably even more frustrating than he had described it to me the day we'd had our affair. "What's your real excuse for being here, Laura?" Marcie closed in on me, both with her inquiry and by sliding her chair next to mine. "Are you a closet pussy-lover, too?"
"No. No. I told you," I persisted with my cover-up story, "Tina Powers is an old friend of mine. I just came by to see how she's doing with her dancing career."
"And maybe wrap your legs around her and suck a little pussy after she's off work," Marcie tried to punch holes in my facade. "Let's face it, Laura, the news is out."
"What's that?" I cringed defensively.
"That you're as queer as I am." For the first time I could see Marcie's face in the darkness and she was grinning like a shark. "But don't worry, Laura, your little secret is safe with me. I understand how it is to lust after cunt when the whole world expects you to be satisfied with cocks."
Then, she boldly placed her hand on my thigh. Without hesitation her slender fingers began crawling like serpents toward my crotch.
Looking toward the stage for distraction. I tried to pretend it wasn't happening. However, it didn't help to see Tina in the midst of spread-eagling herself so that her bare cunt was flexing like a hairy fist.
"Mmmmm, you do like your pussy, don't you Laura?" Marcie cooed in my ear as her hand covered the crotch of my panties. "Your little undies are soaking wet. Just about as bad as mine. I'd say you're as horny for some action as I am. It would be a shame if you had to wait around here all night for your friend to finish working before you got some nookie."
"Wha-what are you s-suggesting?" I stuttered with burning self-consciousness.
"This," Marcie hissed through clenched and gleaming teeth. She gripped the sopping crotch of my panties and tore the flimsy fabric to shreds.
She began finger-fucking me immediately. Even with the noisy din of The Tender Trap buzzing in my ears, I could still hear the squishing within my wet pussy, as Marcie's knuckles popped in its tight, gooey tunnel. This was just the beginning, though. While she was reaming me out with one hand, Marcie employed the other to seize my right wrist.
Suddenly my hand was at the center of her open thighs. The only difference was that I would have to do no ripping to get to her cunt. Marcie wasn't wearing a stitch underneath her loose skirt. "Feel my pussy," she throatily commanded.
I could hardly avoid it. Already the flossy strands of her bush were curling between my fingers. The damp lips of her twat felt like they were kissing the palm of my hand. "Finger-fuck me," she ordered. "Do it to me exactly the same way I'm doing it to you."
Right on cue, the walls of her snatch began undulating and spasming. Three of my fingers were sucked inside her fuck-hole without choice.
Of course I'd be lying if I said that I made any attempt to wrest my hand free. Marcie's cunt was so damp and tight that plunging to its depths thrilled me with uncontrollable excitement. "You like it, don't you Laura?" Marcie said. It wasn't a question but a statement of fact. "You're just as queer as I am." She began wriggling her fingers in my squishy box. Obviously I was expected to follow suit. I did. In the face of her furious determination, I was a slave to her lesbian commandments.
"Ooooh, that's it girl," Marcie's voice softened from erotic pleasure. "You're a natural."
For several minutes we went at it hot and heavy. There was no further conversation because nothing was left to be said. Every digital probe Marcie made up my twat was matched by my own squirming fingers. It was a draw who was hand-fucking the other more vigorously.
The attention we were lavishing on each other's cunts was only interrupted by a third pussy. Tina's. Marcie and I both happened to look up at the stage at the same time. What we saw was no longer a dancer but a naked woman getting ready to fuck. Tina's pussy was virtually steaming, and she was begging for a volunteer to come up from the audience and screw her on stage.
There was no shortage of volunteers. When Marcie and I took quick glances around us, we saw at least a dozen guys surging out of their seats toward the stage. At least half of them were fumbling with their flies to get their cocks out.
The winner was the guy who was bigger and stronger than all the rest. Using his strength to muscle all the others aside, he fought his way onto the stage and dropped his pants.
His cock was out, hard as a rock and long and twitching. As thick as a normal person's forearm.
"Fuck me, daddy, fuck me!" Tina begged. "Show your friends what kind of man you are ... and what kind of woman I am!"
Since she was on the floor, the horny customer dropped to his knees between her spread legs. Taking a bead on her gaping cunt, he guided his immense hard-on until he found the slitted crux of her femininity. "Do it to me, stud, do it to me!" Tina cried.
The head of his prick bashed against her pussy lips. Then, with a moist pop, it was inside her. She wiggled her ass, beginning to suction the rest of his tool within her snatch.
At the same time, Marcie and I were duplicating the on-stage action the lesbian way. The further Tina's twat was engorged with cock, the deeper we thrust our probing fingers. Tina wasn't getting any more action than we were. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," the three of us chanted simultaneously, Tina shouting it from the stage while Marcie and I purred it to one another in sensuous whispers.
As Tina's on-stage lover plunged his dick in her cunt halfway to his balls, Marcie and I added our remaining fingers to our twin engorgements. Now we each had a whole hand within the other's creaming slit. "All the way, big dude," Tina gasped above us. "Fuck me to the hilt."
The audience cheered as the man on top of my oldest friend slammed his pelvis into the well of her thighs. As the crowd cheered on their fellow member, the man's cock, as huge as it was, disappeared entirely within Tina's hungrily sucking cunt. "Make a fist in my cunt, Laura," Marcie hissingly sought to keep pace with the floor show. Automatically I drew my knuckles into a manacled knot. In my own gash I could feel my next-door neighbor's doing exactly the same. "Now, fist-fuck me!" Marcie ordered. "Pretend like your fist is the head of the biggest cock imaginable, and your arm is the shaft."
"Unnnnhhh," I grunted like a prize fighter throwing the hardest punch of his life. My fist seemed to wham all the way into Marcie's womb, and she responded with an appreciative "Arrrggghhh!"
Then we switched sounds. Now Marcie was making the "Unnnnhhhh," and I was gasping the "Arrrrggghhh," as she socked the interior of my twat as brutally as I'd pummeled hers.
While Tina's pussy began to be pumped by the hard-on on-stage, our under-the-table cunts were getting it just as bruisingly from our pistoning fists.
The crowd, of course, was going insane. The action lewdly filling the stage was one floor show that gave them their money's worth. This was what they came to see.
In fact, the only members of the mob who weren't shouting their lungs out at Tina s no-holds-barred performance were surrounded on all sides by a gang of screaming, sex-crazed men.
Not for long, though.
"Hey, look at this!" Somebody at the next table yelled so everyone could hear him above the noise. "These two chicks are making it with each other!"
"Get 'em on stage!" somebody else shouted. "Yeah! Yeah!" the mob chorused its approval. "More cunt!"
Suddenly a dozen hands closed like a net around Marcie and me. We were lifted from our chairs, hoisted in the air like we were weightless, and deposited on the stage with our fists still firmly inserted within each other's cunts. They still weren't through with us, however. A couple of self-appointed wardrobe experts literally tore our clothing from our bodies so the audience could see us nude. There was no longer anything to hide. "Let's really give these animals a show," Marcie whispered with a terse edge that cut through the noisy fanaticism of the lust-maddened mob. "Sixty-nine!" All of a sudden my tongue was out of my mouth and passing hungrily over my lips. I wanted to suck Marcie's cunt so badly that I didn't care if I had to do it in front of an audience of screaming men.
Yanking our fists from our snatches, we re-positioned ourselves in the magic numerical position. Aggressively I took the top position, lowering my face between Marcie's delectably spread legs while I squashed my twat against her mouth. With the audience stamping and cheering, Tina looked over for the first time to check out her unexpected competition. You can imagine her surprise-it isn't often a woman who is willing to fuck on stage had to share the honors with anyone else. However, Tina's initial surprise was nothing like the astonishment she experienced a split-second later. Not only did she have a pair of rivals, one of them was her best friend. "Laura!" Tina gasped. "What in the hell arc you doing here?"
Of course I was unable to answer. I was too busy eating my next-door neighbor's pussy. Then it was my turn to be surprised.
"Marcie Castor!" Tina bleated my sweet-cunted neighbor's name the same as she had mine. "I should have known it was you!" They knew each other. Marcie and Tina knew each other!
Part of me wanted to pull my mouth from between Marcie's legs and remark on the amazing coincidence. However, another, stronger, part magnetically held my lips to my neighbor's delicious cunt. I knew immediately I would have to get to the bottom of this later. Naked and enmeshed in sex before an audience of horny men was no place for a confrontation. In other words: make love first, ask questions later.
So the contest really began. Lesbian sex versus heterosexual sex. Tina fucking a man, while Marcie and I sixty-nined.
The audience was about evenly divided as to which kind of action they liked best. All of us on-stage had all the attention a ham actor could want during an opening night on Broadway. The action got hotter and hotter. Then, as I glanced to my side, I saw Tina's partner violently crash his loins against her groin with everything he had. "He's coming!" several members of the audience hollered at once. "Blast my cunt with your jizz!" Tina played her role to the hilt.
Marcie and I were not about to be upstaged. Our sixty-nine became a writhing contortion that scuttled all over the platform in its squirming frenzy. Even with all the noise, anybody who wanted to could hear us chomping away at each other's twats. "Ooooh God!" Tina's public lover blurted. "Jeeee-sus!" Nobody had to be very bright to know that his hard-on was erupting in the depths of her pussy.
Marcie and I matched it by cramming our fingers into each other's ass-holes. Quickly our entire hands were inside, clenched of course, and we were anally fist-fucking in tandem.
Now it was Tina's turn to up the ante. This time she was able to catch the collective eye of the crowd without the slightest bit of extra effort on her part. Her partner's overflowing cum did all the work for her. The white spunk came flooding to the lips of Tina's cunt. All of a sudden the sides of her snatch were welling with alabaster goo, and then it was streaking down her inner thighs. There was no doubt in the minds of Marcie and myself that we had to match our mutual friend's attention-riveting action. If her pussy could flow, then so could ours. And who needed some damn man to make it happen.
It was clear that at the crucial moment Marcie and I had ESP. We were so completely on the same wave-length that we were more like a single person than two. Each of us automatically knew that the other one was putting the same strain on her bladder. Maybe we couldn't produce any male cum. but we'd treat this audience to a golden shower they'd never forget.
The piss came gushing from our twats with a hissing force that put the mere oozing of the spunk from Tina's gash to shame. Although Marcie and I did our best to swallow as much of the yellow discharge as possible, it was inevitable that most of it would spurt free and form a steaming lagoon that quickly, spread across the stage.
The crowd was going nuts. Male cum and female piss was splattering all over the place. The place was bedlam. You must have been able to hear the turmoil for blocks away. You couldn't hear yourself think in The Tender Trap. A bomb could have gone off and nobody would have noticed it.
Chaos reigned supreme. The cops who raided the place were all the way onto the stage and pulling the four of us apart before their presence was recognized. The fun was abruptly over.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I never got the chance to tell Nick Wolfe about the phone call I'd received from the blackmailer. I got a glimpse of him, still conked out on the bar, as the Vice Squad dragged those of us who had been on stage out of The Tender Trap to a waiting paddy wagon.
The charges were indecent exposure and performing a lewd act in public. Just the kind of thing the police were watering at the mouth to bust people for because the District Attorney was running for re-election. Real crooks were running wild, but the uptight public was satisfied with a few sensational newspaper stories about people being arrested for doing the kinds of things they themselves were afraid to do.
I should have known better than to get involved in public sex. The DA's campaign had been going on for weeks. First the nude beach was raided, and then the go-go joints and massage parlors were hit. The Tender Trap bust would undoubtedly produce at least a few-hundred valuable votes.
The cops broke us up once the four of us had been mugged and fingerprinted. "If we put you horny rabbits in the same cell," the head jailer said sarcastically, "you'd probably wind up putting on a show for the rest of the prisoners."
Clad in convict denims, I was shuttled to the north wing of the jail. Thrown into a scroungy pen like a wild animal, I was told, "Don't get lonesome, you'll have a playmate before you know it. We've got a couple of dope raids cooking tonight. The only thing the public-likes better than obscenity busts in an election year is a slammer full of teenage junkies-even if they're their own kids. The people know it's sex and dope that's ruining our country-and so does the DA."
I wanted to puke but held it in. After all, the scummy floors of my new home could hardly take any additional filth without becoming a swamp instead of cement.
Alone, I forced myself to think about something-anything-to get my mind off the predicament I was in. I was not yet equipped to devote my rational mental energy as to how I was going to get out of this one with my hide intact. A satisfactory explanation to my family seemed as far away to me as Mars.
However, my mind turned to something almost as troubling. The problem that had been bothering me before I'd ever seen the inside of The Tender Trap.
Blackmail.
Connections were abruptly made in my mind that were as troubling as any potential headlines about my lascivious behavior in public. And what was particularly disturbing about them was that they were all new insights. Alas, no matter which way I turned, my problems were constantly expanding.
Marcie. Tina. My brain repeated their names over and over.
They knew each other. How?
Then there was the blackmailer. The blackmailer had mentioned my relationship with Tina over the phone. And, of course, my affair with Marcie's husband was the basis of the extortion in the first place.
I began to think of myself trapped within a circle. A closing noose of my best friend, my next-door neighbors, and the blackmailer. It certainly didn't take Dick Tracy to suspect that there might be a connection between them.
In other words, I was beginning to consider for the first time the chilling possibility that the blackmailer was no stranger to me.
And what about Kick Wolfe? Where did he fit into this crazy puzzle? It was through him that I'd been led to The Tender Trap and the revelations that were now coming to me. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that the blackmail might be an inside job. Somebody who knew me. Someone I had mistakenly trusted who was trying to get me.
My thought process was abruptly interrupted by the clanging of an opening lock. I looked up to see the jailer escorting a fresh prisoner down the aisle. Even though her head was turned, whoever it was, was clearly just a kid. Undoubtedly some hapless teenager the cops had found with a little grass on her.
"Hey, Moss," the jailer called to me, "I've got somebody for you to play with."
I wished I could be left alone to think things out. However, the humanitarian part of me realized that maybe I could be of some assistance in calming down the scared adolescent who was my new cellmate. After all, she was probably young enough to be my own daughter.
The young girl still had her head hidden when the jailer brought her to the entrance to my cell. Despite this, though, I almost felt as though I recognized her. I guessed it was because she was obviously about the same age as my own fourteen-year-old daughter, Sally. However, I never expected that the extent of the similarity would abruptly take my breath away as though I had been punched in the solar plexus. My concern turned out to be as well placed as my beating heart in my left breast. "Sally!" I shrieked when I saw my daughter's all-too-familiar face.
"How nice, you two jailbirds know each other," the jailer clucked sarcastically before Sally could recover her wits enough to respond to confronting her mother in jail. "Oh well, like they say, birds of a feather ... " With that, the jailer turned around and left. I was on my own in the most troubling situation of my life.
I expected Sally to blurt her astonishment at my presence immediately. Instead, to my surprise, she just rolled her eyes and drooled.
It took me several seconds to figure it out. When I did, the words of recognition came painfully out of my throat like a wound being ripped open.
"You're stoned, aren't you?" I winced. "So stoned you aren't even sure I'm your mother."
She peered at me through foggy eyes like an elderly person caught without his bifocals. Then she started to insanely laugh.
"Darling, what's wrong?" I immediately forgot all about my anger and became a concerned mother. Sally suddenly seemed the same to me as when she'd been six or seven and come crying to me with a scraped knee. "Man, that dope is giving me hallucinations," my daughter slurred. "You look and sound just like my mother."
"How do you know I'm not?" I played the game.
"Because my mother never does anything wrong." Sally swayingly informed me. "The dried up old bitch doesn't know how to do anything fun enough to wind up in the pokey for it."
I was cut to the quick, but I concealed my pain. This was not a time for the pettiness of hurt feelings. No matter what kind of trouble my daughter had gotten herself into, nor how abusive her tongue, she needed the kind of care that only I as her mother could provide.
"Sit down here with me on the cot," I tried to calm her down. "You need to get off your feet."
She was too woozy to resist when I dragged her toward me. As she plopped to a sitting position and her legs flew apart from the impact, I noticed for the first time that the fly of her jeans was completely open.
Even though we were hardly in a place where personal appearance mattered, as a mother I automatically reached over to zip my child up. However, when I reached for the tab of her zipper, Sally had some kind of drug-induced tremor and suddenly jerked forward. In the process my fingers were inadvertently thrust into her gaping crotch.
I was surprised to feel wispy, curly hair. My daughter wasn't wearing any panties.
I started to remove my hand from inside her jeans in embarrassment, but Sally grabbed hold of my wrist with a cat-like quickness that was the complete opposite of the trance-like behavior she'd displayed so far. "Don't take away your hand," she moaned. "Your fingers feel so good against my pussy."
I didn't know how to handle it. Especially when Sally abruptly closed her thighs, imprisoning my hand at the bare crux of her femininity. "Is my twat wet enough for ya, adopted mother?" she slobbered.
Automatically I wiggled my finger-tips. The sticky moisture to which she was referring was immediately apparent. My daughter's cunt was dripping.
"It's cum," she informed me, lolling her head back and staring at the ceiling as though the peeling paint up there had some hidden meaning. "I fucked three, four guys tonight ... can't remember how many. All I remember is that they all had big dicks."
"Who were they?" I tried to suppress my alarm, but gasped nonetheless.
"Who the fuck knows?" she ignored the signs of my concern. "Just a bunch of dudes I stopped on the street trying to score some grass or pills."
"What happened?"
"They were a goddamn walking pharmacy," Sally laughed. "Told me they'd give me all the reds I could gobble if I'd let them gang-bang me."
"And you agreed?" I tried to conceal my surprise with only middling results.
"For all the reds I can eat, I'd screw the whole damn Puerto Rican army," she giggled, then added: "If they've got an army. Otherwise, I'll hump the whole fucking Polish army."
I fumed away, magically trying to transport myself to somewhere where I wouldn't have to endure all this pain. However, no part of it would go away. For one thing there were my fingers ensnared in the gooey well of Sally's compressed thighs to remind me of the truth.
"What's the most guys you ever fucked at once?" she asked me.
"J-just one," I heard myself saying. The situation was so incredible that I felt like I was an astonished third party eavesdropping on all of this.
"Wow," Sally giggled, "you really are like my mom."
"H-how's that?" my burning curiosity forced me to ask. Even though she was so stoned that she didn't even know who I was, I felt like I was on the verge of communicating more meaningfully with my daughter in jail than I ever had at home. "I'm positive the only man my mother's ever fucked is my dad," Sally said contemptuously. "Don't be so sure of that," I defensively responded. She laughed hysterically.
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe men aren't all your mother is interested in?" I stopped her laughter as effectively as if I'd choked her. "What're you talking about?" Sally asked in a tiny whisper. I'd touched a vital nerve.
"Women," I couldn't resist putting this snotty brat in her place. "If you were really as experienced as you claim, you'd know a woman can get something from someone of her own sex that no man can ever give her."
"Pusssssy" Sally rolled the word that was on both our minds around in her mouth like it was a morsel of food. "It never occurred to me that Mom might have a secret life as a dyke. Far-out!"
"You said I reminded you of your mother," I pressed on. "Suppose I was. What would you do now?"
She blinked-one, two, three times. Then she shook her head, trying to clear away the cobwebs. In her fourteen years, I'd never gotten through to Sally so decisively. "Well?" I tied the knot of the pressure a little tighter. "What about it-or are you chicken?"
Needless to say, I knew my Sally well enough to realize that, like any teenager, she hated to be called chicken. By the innate code of adolescence she had no choice but to respond to my dare.
"All right, whoever you are," my daughter was finally able to speak, "you've got your answer. If I was with my mom like this right now, I'd tell her to forget about the hand-job she's giving me in my pants."
"Yes?"
"I'd make her strip me. Then I'd take off her clothes."
"Yes?"
"We'd make the kind of love I've always secretly wanted to make to my mother ever since I was old enough to know the difference between boys and girls."
"You don't have to make me strip you, Sally," I said simply. "In fact, you couldn't stop me if your tried. I'm dying to see your naked body."
She didn't even bother to respond to my blatant implication that I really was her mother. Instead Sally began moaning incoherently immediately when I began to slip her yellow T-shirt over her head. It seemed as though she were experiencing the exposure of her bare skin.
I moaned too when I saw her braless breasts. God, is there anything more perfect than a budding pair of teenage tits?
I wanted to suck her erect nipples, but when I made the move Sally stopped me. "Uh-uh." she shook her head. "No action until we're both bare-ass. I want your body as bad as you want mine." She was right. Our love-making had to be total. No-holds-barred right from the beginning. Sex mother-and-daughter style. We were both naked within seconds. Falling lengthwise on the cot with me on top, we got down to business at last.
Those nipples I'd craved were now locked inside my suctioning mouth. I had both of Sally's young tits squeezed together so I could suck the erect tips of both simultaneously.
While she writhed beneath me, my daughter lifted her knee into my dripping crotch. Then she adjusted her leg downward until her warm, firm thigh was pressing sensuously against my cunt. She immediately began rubbing it back and forth, catching my clitoris in the tug and making me come.
"Thank you, Sally, thank you," I released her nipples and sighed in orgasmic appreciation. Then I kissed her. A deep, long soul-kiss. My hard tongue crammed halfway down her throat. Sally's thigh pressed harder than ever against my pussy. Jesus, it felt so good.
But I knew how to make it feel infinitely better. I broke the kiss and told my daughter that I wanted her to suck my cunt. "Only if you give me the same kind of action-and plenty of tongue," Sally gushed enthusiastically.
I was so excited. I could hardly endure the time it took to reposition myself for a sweet sixty-nine without coming apart at the seams. While I was swiveling around on top of my naked daughter, my motions jerked so with anxiety that I almost toppled off the cot. Fortunately I kept my balance. Of course even if we'd been perched on a mountaintop, had I fallen, I would have climbed back up the face of the craggy peak to get back to my little girl's sweet cunt. Nothing would stop me from eating my daughter's snatch. "Mmmmmm," I gurgled as I buried my face between Sally's long, tan legs. Her pussy was a delight that would put the finest French pastry to shame.
The only other twats I'd ever mouth-fucked were Tina's and Marcie Power's. Since they were both grown women approximately my age, their pussy hair and lips had been thick with maturity. My, a teenage cunt was so much different. Sally's delectable, young snatch was a definite case of where less can mean more. The erotically wispy hair was like spun gold. The blade-thin lips tingled like hot wires. And where was her clit. Yes, I had to see it before I did anything more. The clit of a fourteen-year-old girl.
I put a fingertip at either side of the top of Sally's pussy and pulled the petal-like folds apart. Her clit popped into view like the bud of a newly developing flower.
My tongue flew reflexivelv from my mouth. Immediately its tip was tickling Sally's throbbing, teenage joy-button. She squealed with pleasure and responded in kind. Now" it was my turn to be tongue-tickled in the best place of all for a woman. Then, simultaneously, our tongues slid from our clits and plunged into our foaming gashes. It was time for some serious oral fucking.
The dual sensation I experienced when we really got it on was incredible. I'd sixty-nined lately with two ripe beauties of unbridled sexiness, Tina and Marcie. But neither my oldest friend nor my next-door neighbor could match the kind of lesbian action my fourteen-year-old daughter was giving me.
Our stiff tongues advanced higher and higher within our creaming slits. I desperately hoped that the inner juices of my cunt tasted as good to Sally as hers did to me.
Now my little girl started to buck beneath me. Under normal circumstances, I would have thought she was having a seizure and rushed her to the emergency room in the family station wagon. But, of course, I wasn't operating as Sally's concerned mother now. In this squalid jail cell, I was her lover.
And she was obviously coming. I had made my fourteen-year-old lover come so intensely with the mere power of my tongue that her young body seemed like it would fly apart. "Oh fuck me, fuck me!" Sally pulled her mouth away from my cunt and cried.
I thought she meant to continue with my tongue. However, when Sally continued her plea despite my most vigorous efforts of oral penetration, I realized my daughter wanted something else besides my mouth at the center of her thighs.
"Fuck me like a man would." Sally gasped with excitement. "But use your pussy. Fuck me with your cunt." Immediately I sensed that it could be done. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Pulling my face away from Sally's steaming crotch, I rotated my prone body in a half-circle. Now we could soul-kiss again, this time with our pussy-stained mouths, while we mastered the art of all-girl fucking.
A cunt is a magnificent organ. Covered on the outside by sensuously tender folds that seem to their owner to be comprised more of raw nerve-endings than mere flesh, the human pussy has just as much ability to force an orgasm from the exterior as the interior. You women out there who have gone the lesbian route know exactly what I'm talking about. If you've ever experienced the pleasure of someone's cunt squashing against your own, I don't have to explain anything further to you. However, for those of you unlucky enough to be among the uninitiated, I'll be glad to tell you exactly how it is. When you're through reading you'll be dying to try it.
First of all, our clits seemed to have a magnetic attraction for each other. No matter how much we shook our asses, they remained glued. Because of this, every movement brought a sharp stab of agonizing joy right up the centers of our bodies. Then there were our pussy lips. With mine big and fat, and my daughter's as slender with adolescence as the rest of her, they were perfectly complimentary.
My labia spread all over Sally's crotch like the mouth of a bass. This enabled her much smaller vaginal petals to actually slip inside the mouth of my cunt. No matter what direction our pelvises went, the friction produced by our jointed twats was wonderfully excruciating.
We'd been coming like mad all along, of course. However now it really became special. We were both out of our minds with orgasm.
"Hey," a jailer growled from the front of the cell-block where we couldn't be seen. "What're you two broads doing back there? We can hear you all the way up here in the office. You're interrupting our card game, you bitches."
Of course, being on Cloud Nine, there was no way either Sally or I could decipher the words that should have warned us to abruptly cool it. How could we be expected to pay any attention to the jailer when we considered our environment to be the peak of the orgasmic mountaintop.
"Fucking dykes!" the jailer spat when a view of us was available. Unfortunately we still weren't paying attention.
No, it would take more than angry words to bring us back into the real world of the jail. You can rest assured, however, that our jailers had an effective technique of breaking it up.
You wouldn't think one of those fire extinguishers you can hold in your hand could generate such pressure, but I'm telling you the water strikes with the force of a ruptured hydrant. And the jailer wielded it like an expert. "Jesus Christ, what's happening?" Sally shrieked as a liquid jet nearly crushed her ribs.
"Oh, my God!" I shrieked with alarm and I turned around and faced the merciless gaze of the jailer. My emotions turned abruptly from the joy of orgasm to a fear of solitary confinement. The papers had been full of stories for months about the crusade to cleanup homosexuality' in the county jail.
"Which one of you is Mrs. Moss?" was the grim question that immediately followed the end of the extinguisher's flow. "I ... I am," I admitted in terror.
"Get out from between your girlfriend's legs and come with me." It sounded like a death sentence. "And for God's sake, put your frigging clothes back on so you don't start a riot."
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was expecting the worst, of course. Not only had I been caught in the act on the stage of The Tender Trap, now I had compounded my crime by duplicating the same offense in my jail cell. One of our local hanging judges would lick his chops over that.
To my surprise, however, I was led away from the cell-block. My trek finally ended in front of a desk where a man in uniform sat behind a sign identifying him as "Property Clerk."
"Give this lady her stuff," the jailer who had fetched me from my cell grumped disgustedly from behind me.
I couldn't believe it. Instinctively whirling around, I gaped for an explanation. "D-did someone get me out on bail?" I finally forced myself to stammer. "Nope."
"T-then what's this all about?"
"The good fairv had your charges dropped," I was sarcastically told. "But who?"
"Just shut up and walk, lady, before I lose my temper and decide to tell the brass to go screw," the jailer snarled in my face. "I promise you if there weren't an election this year, your friend's so-called 'campaign contribution' wouldn't buy diddly-shit."
I had a lot more questions to ask, but I could see that it was not to my benefit to try for anymore answers. Whoever had pulled the strings with the higher-ups to spring me from jail had thoroughly alienated the rank-and-file cops by throwing his or her weight around.
It practically killed me, but I knew that if I was going to take advantage of my chance for release, I'd have to leave Sally behind for now. It was a tough decision to leave her back in the cell, but it was clear that I couldn't do her any good if I remained locked up along with her.
"You're Laura Moss, right?" the Property Clerk recaptured my attention. "Hurry up and sign for this crap and get the hell out of here before we think of something else to hold you for."
When I'd turned around to face him, he'd already slid a big paper sack across the desk. When I looked inside there was all my clothing and my purse-the cops had apparently scooped it all up when they'd taken me into custody.
Wordlessly I signed for my possessions and then dashed with the sack toward the nearest ladies' bathroom. Alone in one of the stalls, I stripped away the jail fatigues I'd been forced to re-don when I'd been summoned from my cell and quickly got into my own things. With the feel of my own clothing against my skin, I started to feel a little more like a human being again rather than a caged animal.
I slung my purse over my shoulder and emerged from the bathroom. It was only when I was back in the middle of the office that I realized my pocketbook seemed awfully light. When I peered down into it, it was empty. "Looking for your pet boa constrictor, Mrs. Moss?" the Property Clerk leered like a person who is experienced at meting out torture and loves his job. In his hand he was cradling the long, thick, serpent-like dildo Tina had loaned me. My natural instinct was to turn and run away. Something, however, forced me to hold my ground until I retrieved what was mine. It seemed that everyone wanted to push me around lately, and it was time I stood up for my rights. "Yes, it's mine," I looked at the rubber phallus and admitted.
This said, I grabbed it from his hands without further ado, stuffed it in my purse, and wheeled and headed toward the nearest exit sign. I can't tell you how wonderful it was to breathe the fresh night air once I was out of the tomb-like building at last. My celebration was short-lived, though. I quickly discovered that my dildo wasn't all the cops had pilfered. My wallet and all my money had also been taken, and not returned. I'd made my big stand to get back the dildo, and I just didn't have the stomach to return to the bowels of the jail for a few dollars. I'd walk or hitchhike wherever I was going.
But where was I going?
I walked several steps to my left and then a dozen more in the other direction before I realized I had no destination in mind. Stopping. I pressed my fingers to my temples and tried to think.
For the first time I looked around at the area surrounding the jail. The jail was on a seedy fringe of the inner city. I estimated I was only a few blocks from Tina's, Nick Wolfe's office, or The Tender Trap.
Where should I go? All three seemed to have equally strong ties to my recent past. Each one of them potentially held the answers to the mysterious links in the chain of blackmail that ensnared me.
I decided on Nick Wolfe's. I remembered that I'd heard more than once about his connections. Maybe he knew from his stint in the underworld how to contact the right cops or politicians with a well-placed bribe and had used this skill to spring me from jail once he'd come to at The Tender Trap. If I was right, if I could get to him right away, perhaps I could talk him into getting my daughter released with the same pull.
As I started to run along the dark, unlighted street, I convinced myself more and more that getting to Nick was the answer. He was the only one besides Marcie and Tina who could have known I was arrested, and the first two were still behind bars as far as I knew. He'd had plenty of time to sober up by now and return to his office.
Dodging winos and derelicts who weaved at me out of the darkness, I hurriedly made my way toward Wolfe's building. I only stopped to catch my breath when I was finally across the street from it and gazing at its crumbling facade. Never had decay looked so inviting to me. Especially with a light on in the window. I was certain Nick was in his office.
I'd forgotten, of course, that I'd left the light on when I'd left the office in such a rush after finding the matchbook from The Tender Trap earlier this evening. In reality the place was as deserted as it had been hours before. "Damn drunk!" I cursed the private eye for letting me down. "Damn that Tina for sending me to such a loser in the first place. What was she trying to do, make things worse?"
All of a sudden, I interrupted myself with astonished silence as I mentally confronted the round-robin of names that seemed to be involved in burying me deeper and deeper in this blackmail thing. Tina-Nick Wolfe-Marcie. Tina had referred me to Nick. She knew Marcie. And the blackmailer had mentioned Tina also.
I began to think dark thoughts indeed about my oldest friend. I decided to go to her apartment and wait for her. When she finally got out of jail, I'd be there to confront her. I'd expected Nick Wolfe's office to be occupied and it had been empty. My experience with Tina's place was to turn out to be the exact opposite of my earlier miscalculation. "Can't go up there, lady," the swing-shift attendant of the all-night porno shop growled at me as I headed for the stairs to Tina's upstairs apartment. "Is Miss Powers at home?" I said disbelievingly.
"Somebody sure is," he answered. "I just got here and I've been hearing the bed bounce and the springs squeak. Listen." He was right. Somebody was making a hell of a lot of noise up there. The truth was that it sounded like two people fucking.
It must be her. If the same person had gotten Tina out of jail, she would have had plenty of time to get home. In fact, I guessed she was probably up there with Marcie Castor.
Yes, there seemed no doubt about it. My oldest friend and next-door neighbor were secret lovers. Since the blackmail had begun with pictures of me screwing Marcie's husband, the circle was complete. There was a conspiracy against me, and now was the perfect time to get to the bottom of it.
"Let me go up there and I'll give you a blow job when I come back down." I attempted to place a bribe of my own with the book store attendant.
He scratched his head and thought about it. "All right," he finally agreed to my offer. "But you've got to swallow my cum."
"I wouldn't miss a drop of it," I lied, and then was gone up the stairs.
Now I was panting in front of Tina's door, getting a grip on myself before I made my unannounced entrance. There was no way I was going to lose the element of surprise by knocking. At last there was air in my lungs and I clasped my fingers around the knob. My only decision now was whether I should burst in or sneak in quietly.
When I heard impassioned moans wafting through the door, I decided on the latter course. An entrance without fanfare would allow me to work myself into a perfect position to see the expression on their faces when I finally stuck the needle in Tina's and Marcie's balloon.
With all the commotion inside, whatever sound the opening door made was easily obscured. Walking on my toes I made my way to the bedroom, fully expecting to find my oldest friend and next-door neighbor naked and in each other's arms. The nudity was there all right, but it was hardly what I expected. Neither of my so-called friends was present, and the person plunging into the center of the spread-legged female on her back was a man. "Ooooh, Frankie," the cheap-looking tart being fucked sighed, "I love it when you buck away at me like this."
"Just shut up, bitch, and keep fucking back," my husband scowled to the naked woman beneath him. "I don't have Tina get me you whores so I can talk to them. If I want any of that boring chit-chat, I can spend the evening with my wife." So this was what Frank was up to when he said he had one of his important after-hours business meetings. To think I had trusted him, while all the time my old friend Tina was supplying trashy hookers for him. It was hard to believe at first, so I just stood in the shadows and gaped as though I were trying to decide if it was really a mirage-some grotesque figment of my imagination.
I quickly became convinced that there was nothing imaginary about the action rocking the bed. But by that time, I was paralyzed by the hypnotic effect of the sight of my husband's cock engorging another woman's cunt. From where I stood, I could see every pumping thrust of Frank's hard-on in the prostitute's flashily shaved pussy.
In our years together I had certainly had enough sex with my husband to know when he was on the verge of coming. Even though we usually made love with the lights out like other suburban couples, I'd caught enough tell-tale glimpses to know that the bastard's balls changed from pink to blue when they tightened for an eruption.
At the moment they were the same hue as a drowning victim's face.
"Unnnnhhhh!" he grunted, just like he did when he was on top of me.
Frank's prick slammed to the depths, completely disappearing within the whore's shaved twat. I knew from experience that its head was exploding with liquid fragments of hot jizz.
The hairless condition of the hooker's bald pussy allowed me to witness every drop of excess spunk as my husband's load began to overflow from her fuck-hole. Within seconds the whole bottom of her crotch was glistening with dripping white cream. Then it snaked down her thighs until it looked as if she had sat in a bowl of frosting.
It was an incredible sensation watching all of this. Even though I'd been married to this man for fifteen years, and had performed my wifely duty with him more times than I could count, this was the first time I'd ever actually seen my husband fuck. It gave me a whole new perspective of his love-making ability.
Our sex life at home, of course, had long since leveled onto a plateau of utter boredom. It had been so long since Frank had provided me with an orgasm, I had forgotten what coming felt like until I hurled myself into the drunken affair with Hank Castor. But looking at Frank now, fucking his brains out with another woman, I realized that perhaps I had underestimated his capability.
After all, how else could I explain the excitement I felt from being a spectator to my own husband's infidelity? And with a woman who was nothing but a common whore.
It occurred to me, as I watched Frank pour his jizz into the prostitute's cunt, that maybe he hadn't been the one at fault at all. Maybe I deserved the blame for the tedium our sex life had become in the last few years of our marriage.
For instance, why had I never thought of a little trick like shaving my pussy in order to liven things up in the bedroom? It would have been easy enough to do-and I was sure the razor would feel good against my vulva as I sheared myself of my bristly muff.
Then something happened which really put me to shame. I could see from the volume of leakage from the whore's cunt that Frank's dick had finally stopped spurting. Based on past performances with me, this would mean he was through for the night. Not so, here.
When he yanked his cock out of the hooker's twat, it was still as hard as a rock. Without my limp, unresponsive body beneath him to quench his sexual appetite, Frank was just beginning. His prick seemed to have the resiliency of a teenager's.
"Where do you want it now, you hot bitch?" my stiff-cocked husband homily asked the whore.
"Fuck my tits!" she squealed. "It feels so good. And when you come again, it'll go right in my face."
Her enthusiasm was obviously genuine. It seemed incredible, but a hardened prostitute was able to generate more excitement over my husband's hard-on than I had been able to as his wife. What was wrong with me? Why had I never thought of asking Frank to fuck me between my tits? Just thinking about it made my breasts tingle.
Eager for more action, Frank sat on the hooker's belly. Then, slipping his cock into her cleavage, he began to move it back and forth. The whore did the honors of pressing her two hemispheres of meat together so the space between them became as tight as a cunt. I was consumed by envy. This girl didn't have nearly the tits that I did. But, then, she was willing to do something with them besides nursing her babies and then forgetting all about their existence.
I realized that, first and foremost, a man wants a woman who is willing, willing to go to any lengths when it comes to satisfying his cock. At this level of awareness, a whore was superior to a wife because she had to know how to please a man to keep food on the table.
As Frank's hard prick pistoned back and forth between the whore's compressed tits, I found myself wishing that I had my whole marriage to live over again. If I could start at the beginning, knowing what I knew now, things would turn out a lot differently.
God, I wished those were my tits being fucked by my husband's thick dick. A cock would feel so good chafing against my mammary flesh, its flanged head scraping along my breast bone.
Automatically my hand dropped into my purse. The dildo was there, inviting me to fuck my tits with it. I couldn't stand being left out of the action any longer.
My blouse was on the floor almost immediately. It seemed to come off almost on its own, making me nude from the waist up.
When I looked down I could see that my breasts were crimson with the blush of arousal. The nipples were sticking straight out, totally hard.
Pulling Tina's dildo out of my purse, I slid its knotty head up the center of my chest. When the shaft was wedged between my tits, I pushed the two jugs together and created the same kind of tight crevice the whore had made for Frank. Now I was no longer merely watching. Tit-fucking in the shadows with the long, thick dildo, I was as much a part of the action as Frank and his hired woman. Back and forth, in and out, the two cocks went. Every movement Frank made with his tool I matched with the dildo.
Both the whore and I were getting hotter and hotter. I could not make a sound, of course, because I might be detected. However, my prone counterpart on the bed was making enough erotic noise for both of us. "Ooooh, it feels so hard between my tits," she expressed my feelings exactly. "I'm coming just as much as if I was being fucked in the cunt."
"Kiss the head of my dick while I'm doing it to you," Frank directed. "It'll make me come quicker."
She was only too happy to comply. The wet smacks of her lips filled the room as she puckered up on every upward thrust of my husband's elongated tool.
Mesmerized into perfect mimicry, I duplicated the act to the last detail. The crown of the dildo was soon dripping with the spit of my repeated kisses. It tasted like a real cock to me instead of one constructed merely of rubber.
"Now, come, come!" Frank's whore urged between kisses. "I'll open my mouth so you can pour it down my throat."
I was so far gone that I was expecting my dildo to give the same liquid action as my husband's tit-teased hard-on. When the hooker begged for jizz, I responded emotionally as though she were speaking for me, and that I would soon be blessed with a creamy onslaught in my face.
Frank orgasmically groaned for the second time within mere minutes, his cock lurched, and the head exploded. The whore clasped her lips around it just in time, and got the mouthful of jizz that she had been begging for. Of course, when I tried to replicate her technique with the dildo, my fantasy was soon exposed. You can't get blood out of a turnip, and the same thing applies for sperm out of a dildo.
However, surprisingly enough I was not discouraged. As I watched the prostitute lap up my husband's sticky gruel, my will hardened and I was determined to find a way to make myself think my mouth was tasting cum too. I felt a raspiness in my throat and realized it was a chunk of phlegm. If I hawked it up, I could smear it all over the head of the dildo and then re-swallow it. The mucous would be warm, thick and chunky just like the real goods.
Covering my mouth to cough, I hacked the thick fruit of my gullet into my oral cavity. From there, I transferred it with my fingers to the head of the dildo. When I shoved it up between my tits and began to suck the rubber prick again, the lumpy wetness I craved w there. Too bad I didn't have a cold or I'd have had as much goop to swallow as Frank's whore.
I was still savoring the cum-like taste of my own phlegm when I realized that Frank and the hooker had jumped ahead of me in the pursuit of sexual fulfillment. Keeping up with them made the keeping up with the Joneses that was so prevalent in the suburbs seem like child's play.
My husband had removed his prick from the whore's mouth and tits, and was now stroking it so that it cast a shadow over her torso. Yes, it was still as hard as ever. He was looking for another place on her naked body to fuck. "Roll over and get on your knees, bitch," he snapped, leaving no doubt that he was a man and totally in charge.
I'd never known Frank could be so virile and dominant. When he'd fucked me at home, it was just plop on top of me, stick his dick in my cunt for a few moments, and then he was prone and snoring before I had felt a thing. I'd never suspected what a tiger he was capable of being.
"Spread your cheeks, bitch," he commanded when the whore was on all fours like a bitch in heat.
She did it, and with my perfect view I could see her ass-hole glowing like an ember even from across the room. Frank intended to fuck her in the butt. "Most whore's ass-holes are a lot dirtier," Frank said.
"I keep mine nice and clean with Ivory soap," she chirped. "I like my customers to keep coming back. Besides, this way they don't have a brown ring around their cocks to explain to their nosy wives."
Such uninhibited talk excited Frank immensely. I was finding out that my husband liked his women loose-tongued and lusty, not prim, proper and respectable as I'd always tried to be during my years of married life.
"Groove it in my keyster, you big-cocked stud," the whore continued her stimulating chatter. "Getting fucked in the ass and being paid for it at the same time is one of the things that makes being a whore all worth it."
It was all too much for my libido. There was no way I could just stand there and watch this without feeling something hard and long in my own ass. Again the dildo in my possession was a life-saver.
Dropping to the floor, I knelt as Frank's partner was doing on the bed, reaching to my rear to lift my dress and pry open my buns. The fresh air against my exposed anus accentuated its erotic throbbing.
By the time Frank began to stuff his prick up the whore's shit-pit, I had completely caught up with the action. Guided by my sure hand, the dildo was doing everything the real thing was doing.
Frank whammed his tool into the tight hole at his command, and I did the same. The whore and I squealed from the pleasure of anal penetration at once. Thank God, her cry was the loudest and smothered mine, or I'd have certainly been detected.
Now the ass-fucking was hilted. Just as Frank's balls were wedged between the spread cheeks of the whore's uplifted ass, my knuckles were gouging into my rectal crack. All my troubles had temporarily vanished as I grooved on the mind-boggling experience.
Thank God. however, that my wits were not completely gone. The footsteps treading up the stairs were unmistakable to one even as much in the grip of sensuality as I.
The voices which followed were even clearer. "Did you see Laura tonight?" Tina was asking. "How could I help it," Marcie answered. "After all, I was the one she was making it with."
"I'm telling you those pictures of her and Hank and those phone calls really shocked little Miss Perfect right out of her holier-than-thou shell," Tina chuckled. "I knew it would work. I wonder where she went after she got out of the clink." I couldn't believe my ears. So it was true-they were all in it together.
Frank was coming in the whore's ass by now, but I couldn't stay around and watch. I had to get away. There was no way I was going to allow my conspirators the satisfaction of finding me with a dildo up my butt so they could say we told you so. When I finally confronted them, it would be on my own terms.
With the dildo inside me, I slipped behind the bedroom door. When they came into the apartment neither Tina or Marcie was aware of my presence. "Well, will you look at this," Tina said with amusement. "Frank's still here with that whore I set him up with."
"Ooooooh, how delicious, he just came in her ass!" Marcie squealed. "Let's go get some!"
Their distraction provided me the perfect opportunity to flee. I was out of the apartment, down the stairs, and halfway across the porno shop before I remembered that I had a dildo sticking out of my rump. "Hey, lady, what about that blow job you promised me?" the attendant called.
"Here, do it yourself," I snapped. Pulling the dildo from my ass-hole with a loud pop, I threw it in his face. "Suck this and find out what it feels like from the other end of a hard-on."
I left him and the rubber cock behind. I didn't need the latter any longer, because when I got my revenge on my friends and family, I was determined to make them cry for mercy with my own body.
CHAPTER NINE
My thirteen-year-old son was the key to my plan. He was the only one one left in my world with no known ties to the swirl of events that had recently engulfed me. Even my daughter Sally was under suspicion after coincidentally showing up in my jail cell. My family and friends had used the threat of blackmail to manipulate me into acting the way in which they preferred. Well, now I was going to get even. They weren't the only ones who could play the game with no-holds-barred.
I would pretend to kidnap Steve. He was home alone now, so it would be easy to set things up. Of course, I wouldn't tell Frank who I was. I'd get Steve to a motel and then call from there, using the muffled voice technique that had worked so well when I was playing the sucker.
Relying on my wits rather than the money I didn't have, I paid my cab fare to the suburbs by giving the driver a long, slow hand-job that lasted the whole trip. He was so busy wiping the cum off his lap when I got out of the taxi that he didn't even think about the tip. Inside the house, I turned on the lights and made sure no one was there other than my sleeping son. After verifying the place was deserted, I entered his bedroom and gazed with satisfaction at Steve's dozing form. Walking over to the bed, I bent over and gave him a mother's kiss on his downy cheek. "Stevie, time to get up," I whispered in his ear, as I gently pulled back the covers.
To my surprise he was sleeping in the nude. Then I realized that he had no clean pajamas because I had been so busy running all over the city lately that I hadn't done the laundry in days. He was probably going to school without any underwear under his tight jeans, too.
"Uhhhhh," he sighed in his sleep.
"Steve, Mommy wants you to get up," I said louder than before. Then I took his shoulders and shook them.
Instead of waking up, he made a muffled commitment in his pillow to his determination to remain unconscious. A further jostling and a louder command on my part did no good. Then I got the idea of tickling him. When he was a little boy and being stubborn, I'd always been able to tease him into doing what I wanted him to do with my magic fingers.
He was most susceptible at the tummy so I had to make him roll over. To accomplish this I undid the bottom sheet from the comers of the mattress and pulled it toward me. Steve immediately tipped over like an unfortunate turtle. Now I lightly pressed my fingertips into his taut solar-plexus and started fluttering them. If I was on the right track, he would begin to respond within seconds. "Come on, baby boy," I urged him when he giggled for the first time, "time to wake up for Mommy." However, despite his mirthful response, he was still out like a light.
I sank my fingertips into his abdominal flesh more deeply, creating a sort of benign claw. His laughter filled the bedroom, but he remained asleep.
I'd just have to keep it up until I achieved the desired results. Nobody could remain unconscious forever while being subjected to this kind of teasing torture.
I was determined to get the job done and didn't expect to be distracted. However, in spite of my resolve, there was a surprise in store for me.
In the beginning, I hadn't even bothered to glance between Steve's legs. In the first place, it was dark. Besides, as a mother, I had seen my son's bare body so often that I more or less took it for granted.
Needless to say, respectable woman that I was, I'd never thought of my boy in a sexual light. However, all of a sudden I had no choice but to revise my perspective.
My son's cock was brushing against my hand. And it was not inconspicuously limp the way it appeared when I saw him fresh out of the shower.
Enmeshed in the role of devoted wife and mother, I had never even considered my male child's ability to achieve an erection. Steve was still my little boy to me.
However, there was nothing little about the state of his prick at the moment. My tickling had sent arousing vibrations into the pit of his groin, and now six or seven hard inches of results were twitching in a stiff column from the center of his thighs. I couldn't believe how appealing my son's cock was. I wondered if any of the girls at school noticed its bulge through his jeans when he went to school without any underwear on.
By now the tickling had completely stopped. My fingers could not resist moving down past Steve's navel to the surprising column of standing meat. I had an uncontrollable desire not only to touch my son's prick, but to play with it.
It felt even harder than it looked. Had I touched it without seeing it first, I would have assumed it was made of steel. While it may not have been as long as a grown man's, it was a dick fully capable of total performance.
My fingertips clasped around the foreskin and began to jog it back and forth over the knobby head. Steve's pelvis bucked upward and his prick seemed to expand yet another inch. It was looking bigger and thicker with every passing second.
I became hypnotized by the sight of my son's hard-on. The rest of its details became arousingly evident-the wispy fringe of hair that curled at the root and the still pink and hairless balls.
My urge to suck him off grew until it was an obsession. I had to do it or I'd never be at peace with myself.
I leaned down and took my son's cock into my mouth and began sucking lightly on the apricot-sized head. It was so sweet tasting. Immediately I became greedy for more.
Without hesitating, I went down on him all the way. Soon my lips were nuzzling against his fresh-tasting balls. Despite his youth, his prick was quite a mouthful.
The idea of making a thirteen-year-old boy come in my mouth, his jism pouring down my throat, excited me, and I sucked harder and harder. If nothing else would, turning his nuts inside out was guaranteed to wake him up. He was already stirring with more energy than he had shown up until now. All I had to do was stay with this approach to its logical conclusion. It would be a pleasure. "Stevie, are you sleeping?" I temporarily lifted my mouth from his prick to take inventory.
He grunted something but his eyes didn't open. I returned to his tempting boner and re-wrapped my lips around the stiff column. This time as I went down on him to the hilt, he instinctively pressed his hands against my head. "You like this even if you are asleep, don't you Stevie?" I murmured thickly, my speech impaired by his phallic engorgement. His eyes remained closed, but suddenly he muttered, "Faster ... Faster ... Suck it faster." I was delighted he was responding so well, and turned my oral suction up to furious. "Faster!" he moaned.
My lips began sliding up and down the full length of his dick like the seal of a piston. One second my tongue was lapping against his nuts; the next, only his phallic crown remained in my oral grasp. There was only one description for what I was doing to my sonand that was fucking him with my mouth.
Steve wasn't urging me to suck faster any longer, because there was no way a human being could move up and down his prick with any more acceleration than I was generating. "Don't stop," was his plea now. "I've never felt anything so good. Please keep sucking me off, Mom. Make me come, Mom!" I drew in my breath and checked Steve's eyes once more. They were still closed. This could mean only one thing ... My son was dreaming of me!
And, considering the turgid state of his cock and balls, it must have been a very, very wet dream indeed.
"Tell Mommy what you're dreaming about her, Stevie?" I temporarily let go of his cock enough to speak. "What am I doing to you, dear?"
"Sucking my prick!" he blurted excitedly in his sleep. "I'm fucking you in the mouth!"
"Would you like to do even more?" I tempted him. "Yes!"
"Want to eat Mommy's cunt, sonny?" I purred. "It's big and wet and hairy. I'll bet you've secretly thought about it lots of times."
It was clear that I had it right on the money. Steve's tongue surged from his mouth and he began licking his lips in the universal sign of hunger.
I sat on the edge of the bed and quickly removed my clothes. Then, nude, I climbed on top of my son so my legs were spread in his face while my mouth was poised at his crotch. I could actually smell the scent of my cunt as it steamed under my son's freckled nose. "Stick your tongue in me, Stevie," I breathed heavily. "Suck Mommy's twat the way you've always wanted to in secret."
With more satisfaction than I'd ever experienced in my many years as a mother, I felt the warmth of my boy's tongue lapping at the folds of my cunt. It was an incredible pleasure to reciprocate by enveloping his standing prick with my hungry mouth.
As I felt his oral staff rasping over the tender lips of my twat, I experienced the shuddering twinge of an orgasm. It became even more intense when contact with my clit was made.
At the same time, my renewed cock-sucking became an act of total fixation. All I could think about was sperm. Thick, slimy boy-sperm erupting in my mouth and then creaming hotly into my stomach.
I worked my lips, teeth, tongue and gums over the head of his prick, applying all the suction I could muster. I was soon encouraged when his body stiffened. It wouldn't be long now.
All the while, Steve's tongue gloried in its first meeting with Mommy's curly, moist pussy. The way things were going it was inevitable that he would achieve penetration.
There! The tip of his tongue dropped a notch from my clitoral joy-button and was testing the damp crevice that yawned invitingly before it.
I spread my legs even farther. The skin across my thighs was painfully tight and my slit was gaping.
I sucked in my breath. The pressure pulled my son's oral prong into my gash like I had an erotic vacuum cleaner concealed between my thighs. "Tongue-fuck me, son," I moaned from around Steve's cock. "I want it so bad!"
He rammed away. I could feel his oral thrusts all the way up in my ovaries. The womb that had spawned his life was now spasming from the force of my son's cock-like tongue. Now all that was needed to complete the action was for my son to come. My stomach was heaving from want of his boy-cum.
Applying all the oral pressure I could muster, I concentrated on bringing home the bacon. I was soon rewarded when I felt Steve's stony balls slam against my upper lip. This was it. The unbelievably thick boy-cum began to flow into my anxious mouth. It was fierce. My oral cavity was soon overflowing with my son's youthful jism.
As my mouth filled with Steve's spunk, I experienced an orgasm from his tongue-fucking that shook me from my head to my toes. We were both climaxing with equal intensity at once. I had never felt so fulfilled as a mother. But even this wasn't enough. We both knew without saying a word that we were going to fuck. It was as inevitable as death and taxes.
Waiting until the last drop of cum had been spilled down my throat, I unfastened my lips at last from Steve's prick and removed my dripping crotch from his face. It was time for the main event. "Stevie, are you awake yet?" I anxiously asked, as I flopped on my back and spread my legs in the classic fucking position. "I ... I'm not sure," was his stammered reply. "Your eyes are open," I pointed out. "They can see Mommy's pussy."
"Yes, yes," his mouth watered. "Jeez, it's just like I imagined it all those times I was jacking-off in the bathroom."
"It's not your imagination now," I assured him. "It's my cunt you're looking at, and it's real and wet and horny as hell. Fuck Mommy with your big cock, Stevie. Fuck me until I scream." Leaving nothing to chance, I used the element of surprise to grab ahold of him and roll him over on top of me. Quickly and efficiently, I locked him in place between my knees.
"Fuck me, son," I babbled, as I grabbed Steve's still erect tool and provocatively rubbed it against my throbbing pussy lips. "This is the way it was always supposed to be."
"Are ... are you sure, Mom?" he boyishly gulped.
"I wouldn't be your mother if I had any doubts. Mommy knows best."
He had no retort to my parental authority. I'd raised my kids to respect their elders, and now my years of effort were finally bearing fruit. My son's cock jumped through the noose of my fingers and plunged into my gooey pit at last. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" I chanted in ecstasy.
He was in to the hilt right away. I could feel his smooth balls sliding against my slippery pussy lips. It was only natural that I wrap my legs around him.
The continuous orgasm that had kept me permanently aloft since we'd sixty-nined accelerated into an outer space mission with the onset of total fucking. My son's beautiful young hard-on in my cunt took me beyond the known universe into an unchartered galaxy of the senses.
The more I came, the more I wanted. No man had ever turned me on as mightily as this mere stripling of a lad.
It was a good thing I was sampling my son's prick before he reached his sexual peak, or the incestual bed might have been too much for an old woman like me. I almost wished I could be reincarnated as the fiery young belle that my son would probably many in a few years.
But why fantasize? I had him now at thirteen, and breaking in her own child to the glory of sex was the most any mother could ask. Just do it, Mom, I addressed myself in the third person, just keep fucking and worry later. Upping the ante of stimulation, I placed my hand at the point where our pelvises met and began frigging my clit while Steve furiously screwed me. With the other hand, I cupped his churning nuts. Sensing that I was exceptionally horny, Steve stuck two fingers in my cunt alongside his pounding dick. God, it was so tight and wet and wonderful down there. However, I was still greedy for even further action. It isn't every mother who is lucky enough to have her teenage son make love to her, and I didn't want to miss a trick. "My ass," I moaned. "Stick your fingers in Mommy's ass-hole, Stevie.
His free hand slid obediently between my cheeks. The fingertips immediately located the pulsing exterior knot of my anus. As I'd directed, not just one but several digits penetrated my tight, gooey shit-pit. This was it. Making it with my son was the pinnacle of sex. My senses were deliriously charged. With several of Steve's wriggling fingers up my ass, and of course his hilted hard-on in my pussy, I felt like I was going to shit and piss at the same time. This was what being a mother was all about. Not cooking, cleaning, scolding and nagging-just love.
CHAPTER TEN
Before Steve and I finally got out bed, we had made love for over two hours straight. However, when I arose I was filled with energy rather than being tired, as after normal sex. There was something about incest that re-charged a mother's batteries. "Where are we going, Mom?" my son wanted to know after I'd lit a fire under him to get him dressed and moving, "On a little vacation," I told him.
"Where?"
"To the Holiday Inn. There'll be buffets, color television, a swimming pool, and a great big king-size bed."
"What are we waiting for?" he enthused. "I can't wait to fuck you again."
I called a cab, which I could now pay for with some money I'd filched from the cookie jar. Before we left the house, I scribbled a note for Frank, telling him that his daughter was in jail and he ought to bail her out. Then as the taxi honked outside; I pocketed the duplicate Master Charge card Frank had forbidden me to ever use, and I was all set to finance our little holiday.
Once we were checked in at the motel, I purposely waited over twenty-four hours before I got in touch with Frank. I wanted his worry to have really taken root before I launched my kidnapping ploy. I guess I don't have to tell you how my son and I filled this idle time.
It was after an exceptionally satisfying ass-fuck that I finally decided to make my move. With boy-cum still dripping from the crack of my bare butt, I curled up in a chair and started fiddling with the phone.
"Who are you calling, Mom?" Steve asked from the edge of the bed, where he was slipping into his jeans.
"Just go downstairs and have some breakfast," I gently but firmly suggested. "You'll find out soon enough."
When he was gone, I dialed our home phone number. However, it was not Frank's voice that said hello, but Nick Wolfe's.
"Is Mr. Moss at home?" I asked through a thickly folded scarf that disguised my voice. "Who is this?" Nick asked impatiently. I could just see him talking out of the side of his mouth to seem tough.
It immediately occurred to me that I was already ahead of the game. Frank was already worried about Steve's disappearance and had called the private detective for help. Good, that double-crossing Nick Wolfe was somebody I wanted to get even with, too. "Speak up," Nick growled. "We've got to keep this line open, and if this isn't important get the hell off the line." So, they were expecting the suspected kidnapper to call. Needless to say, I wouldn't disappoint them.
"I'll let you be the judge of how important this call is," I coolly teased. "Ask Mr. Moss if the name Steve means anything to him."
"It's them!" I heard Nick hissing excitedly to Frank. "They've got your son."
"Right on," I interrupted. "And if Moss wants to see him alive again, he'd better do everything I say."
Well, it was easy after that. Especially when I finally got good old Frank on the horn and dictated a list of demands to which he was in no position to say no. Ransom? Of course I had to hint at it to maintain the charade, but I never actually named any figure. Time and place were my true objectives. "Do you have a friend's place where we can meet and discuss my terms?" I asked. "Somewhere out of the suburbs?" Yes, of course he did. He gave me Tina's address, just as I had anticipated.
"Now there's just one more thing," I played the last ace up my sleeve. "The boy's mother. I want her there."
Frank started to protest, but I cut him off by slamming the phone down on the hook. Then I waited for about five minutes, giving him and Wolfe time to try and come up with something.
When I picked up the phone again, the number I dialed was not the one at home. And I didn't expect anyone to answer. I had guessed right. Marcie Castor's line was busy. Frank was undoubtedly calling her, begging her to impersonate me at the meeting with the kidnapper. When I double-checked, his line was also busy. The last link in the chain was the bastard who had set me up to be blackmailed in the first place. There was no way Hank Castor was going to avoid being a guest at the little party I was throwing. I got him at his office. This time I didn't bother to disguise my voice.
"Laura!" Hank blurted my name with surprise. "Where are you? Everybody's looking for you."
"I'm afraid to come home," I replied. "Why? What's wrong?"
"I'm pregnant, Hank," I fiendishly told him. "And I'm sure you're the father."
"Oh Jesus!" He groaned.
"Don't worry," I set my trap, "I'm willing to have an abortion, but you're going to have to pay for it. I'm afraid to go to one of those clinics because the state law says they have to contact my husband and there's just too much red-tape."
"So when are you going to have it?" he took the bait.
"My friend Tina Powers has arranged for a friend of hers to do it for $500 at her apartment tonight," I skillfully lied. "Be there at eight with the money." Then I gave him the address and hung up. Steve and I spent the rest of the day enjoying all the comforts that Frank's credit card could buy us. We didn't have any more sex because I wanted us pampered and rested for the evening's festivities.
That night I told my son that I had some people I wanted him to meet. Naturally he wanted to know who they were, but I told him it was a surprise. Even at thirteen, kids love surprises, so I got away with keeping him in the dark. At eight o'clock we pulled up in front of Tina's building in a cab. Steve became wide-eyed when he saw the porno shop downstairs. "Are you taking me in there?" he asked in awe.
"Better than that," I promised him. "Just keep your shirt on." Then I couldn't help but add with a knowing smile: "Until I tell you to take it off."
We whisked through the dirty book store so quickly that the man at the counter didn't have time to notice that Steve was under-age. As for my son, the poor thing almost broke his neck as he swiveled his head around trying to look at all the filthy pictures.
"That stuff is for people who can't get any action on their own," I re-assured him as we walked up the stairs. "And that's a problem you don't have."
Now we were standing before Tina's door. My heart began to pound with anticipation. I'd pushed things to the brink. It was time to put up or shut up.
"Strip," I whispered to Steve, as I hurriedly started removing my own clothing. "Don't ask any questions and do as I say."
When we were both nude, I dropped to my knees and began sucking his cock. I wanted it big and hard when we made our entrance.
It was like a rock within seconds. Any more sucking and he would have come in my mouth right there in the hallway.
"Now, Stevie, let's go in and meet the nice people," I got up and said.
He was flabbergasted, but so under my spell that he could not protest. I just hoped the rest of them would be so cooperative. I didn't bother to knock. After I opened the door, we just walked right in.
Hank Castor wasn't there yet, but Tina, Nick, Marcie and Frank were seated around a table where they had been nervously drinking coffee. Boy, were they four astonished people. "What's going on?" a girl's familiar voice called from the bathroom. My daughter Sally came out, hastily buttoning the fly of her jeans after taking a leak.
What a pleasant surprise that Frank had brought her along too. She'd probably overheard Nick and her father talking on the phone when I'd set up this meeting, and was high-spirited enough to insist on accompanying them to confront her brother's kidnapper. So now there were six victims in my trap. Perfect.
Before anyone could speak, I made talking unnecessary. I walked right up to Frank and shored my cunt in his face. The others just watched like they were hypnotized.
All except Steve, of course. He was on Mommy's side, and quickly closed ranks on one of the prey. I suppose every adolescent boy with a sister has incestuous fantasies. Now Steve had the unforeseen opportunity to make his secret yearnings come true. When I glanced out of the corner of my eye, I saw my son's cock entering my daughter's gaping mouth. The penetration was immediately hilted, Sally's cheeks swelling with so much hard meat inside.
Now I slowly slid my twat down Frank's incredulous gawking face and sat in his lap. He didn't resist as I quickly unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. Then I had it between my legs, making it hard with the magic touch of my vibrating pussy lips. When his prick was stiff I slipped it inside my body. Frank still wasn't sure what was happening, but he was fucking me nonetheless.
"Come here!" I snapped to Marcie who was sitting across the table. "Take off your clothes and back into Frank's face," I instructed when she was standing like a frightened slave at my side. The element of outrageous surprise was obviously more persuasive than a master's whip.
Quickly Marcie was dutifully stripped and displaying her gorgeous body. Her white rounded ass was a dream as it closed in on Frank's face.
I turned his head so he was facing her, and when nose and buns were virtually touching, I did the honors of prying open her crack. Marcie's pussy and ass-hole flashed voluptuously into view.
"It's perfectly all right to drool, Frank," I teased my husband. "After all, when she lives right next door, it's the neighborly thing to do. I'm sure Marcie would be terribly disappointed if you weren't turned on by her obvious charms."
His breath rattled in his throat like he was on the verge of an asthma attack. Marcie's crack and crotch smell was making his nostrils flare.
"I'm sure Marcie would think it most un-neighborly if you don't eat, dear," I purred. "It's not polite, you know, to refuse what your hostess offers."
I gave him a little help by pushing the back of his head. Frank's face abruptly disappeared into Marcie's rear-spread muff, while she squealed with uncontrollable delight.
"Now, you," I pointed to Nick, who didn't look like such a tough guy at all right now. "Take off your pants and start fucking Marcie in the mouth."
He was mesmerized by my mastery and obeyed without a hitch. His prick was already like an iron bar by the time he passed its massive head between my next-door neighbor's trembling lips. "Steve, Sally!" I called over to my passionately enjoined children. "Get over here and join the main event."
He had just finished coming in her mouth when I broke them up with my command. As Sally lurched toward her next assignment, her brother's snowy white cum was pouring down her face.
"Lick the man's balls," I pointed to the hairy orbs that dangled between Nick's legs. "Your brother would be pleased, I'm sure, to fuck you from behind while you're doing it."
Displaying her youthful reflexes, Sally was naked and down on all fours in a flash, lifting her face to the bottom of the detective's groin and flexing her girlishly sweet cunt from behind. Steve looked down at his sister's wispily beautiful snatch like he'd just discovered buried treasure.
"Go ahead and do it, Stevie," I urged him. "Mommy wants you to fuck your big sister as hard as you can."
His cock closed the distance to Sally's perkily spread buns like a guided missile. A wet squish reverberated through the apartment as he penetrated to his scrotum on the first try. So then there was Tina. My old friend who had thought nothing of betraying my trust because she thought she knew what was best for poor, little Laura. She thought she was so hipper than thou and I was such a mousy square. Well, after I was finished with her, crow would be a staple of her diet. "How about a nice, young piece of ass, old friend?" I confronted her wide-eyed gaze. "A real sweaty one."
Steve's muscles were already glistening from perspiration he was screwing his sister so vigorously, so I knew his crack would be a funky quagmire. I was confident that even Tina had never sampled anything this young and choice. "Tongue his butt," I sternly ordered. "Tongue his sweaty butt."
As though she were in a trance, my girlhood friend pushed herself up from the table and walked obediently to the rear of my son. Before she knelt, she doffed her clothes without being told, her eves registering total subservience to my astonishing will. It was the first time in years I had stood up to her, and the unexpectedness of it had transformed her into a pussycat.
Then she was on her knees, working her pink tongue between her lips while Steve's ass bumped in front of her. In order to pry her way inside, she had to grasp his firm buns, digging into the flesh with her nails in order to slow his fucking movement and force an opening.
All of a sudden her face was gone. Tina's long hair billowed over my son's hips as she sealed her mouth around my son's salty ass-hole.
So there we were, seven people in an incredible chain, the links constructed of our mouths and what we had between our legs. A professional choreographer could not have reproduced it with a month of rehearsals. However, I was still not satisfied. From Frank's lap, I glanced up at the clock. It was several minutes after eight. That son of a bitch Hank Castor was late for my supposed abortion.
Reminding myself that patience was a virtue, while I waited I concentrated on the first seven links of the daisy-chain I had created. The vibes that were passing among us were like electric currents.
For one thing, stimulated by a second cunt in his face, Frank was fucking me stronger than he ever had in his life. It was apparent now that an orgy was what we had needed all along to improve our humdrum sex life.
Of course such unbridled action was what my conspirators had all had in mind for me in the first place, but I could not forgive their sneaky means toward that end. Why hadn't they just come to me directly and told me what they wanted to my face?
Sure, I would have been shocked, but that wouldn't have been a fatal drawback. A locked house and a forced gang-bang would have certainly melted my resistance. The honesty of their approach could not have helped but to ultimately convert me to their enlightened point of view.
All of a sudden my thoughts were interrupted by the heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs. Obviously a man.
"Well, hello there, Hank." I said to the bastard who had started all this weeks ago when he'd plied me with liquor and seduced me. "Why don't you take off your pants and join the fun? Tina's cunt is like a vise-I know because I've had my tongue in it." Needless to say, the poor boob was beside himself. He thought of himself as such a suave swinger, but right now he looked like a scared kid. "What's the matter, big boy," I chided, "cat got your tongue?"
"It ... it's just that I never, uh" he tried to speak.
"Never expected this?" I completed his garbled statement.
"Uh, y-yes."
"Well, I hope the shock hasn't made you impotent," I twisted the needle in. "It would be a shame if Tina's tight pussy wasn't filled and our little chain wasn't properly finished. Or to put it another way-if you stop gawking be off the hook. Now" drop those pants and start fucking."
Hank's hands went to his belt like I was manipulating them with wires. He was my puppet.
There, his buckle was undone. Then the clasp at his waist was unfastened. The zipper of his fly whirred down. Hank's trousers fell around his ankles, revealing a bulge the size of a boxing glove inside his taut shorts. "Peel 'em off," I snapped impatiently. "Poor Tina's feeling left out and needs the work."
When he was finally nude from the waist down, Hank's prick resembled a spear. The perfect instrument to fill my best friend's cunt. "Go to it, stud," I egged him on, "or have you fumed queer since we posed for all those cute pictures your friends took."
This was the final piece of the puzzle. No normal man can be accused by a woman of being a fruit, even in jest, without having to prove his masculinity. Hank stomped angrily to Tina's flared flanks and lined up like he was going to execute her with his hard-on. His face was a contorted mask of I'll-show-you. "What are you waiting for," I pressed him to the limit, "an engraved imitation?"
"Bitch!" he thundered in blind, macho fury. Then, swinging forward, he buried his phallic sword with one thrust. Tina's muffled cry of pain and joy made the cheeks of Steve's ass shake like jelly.
So now it was done. All eight of us were here. The sexual liberation the others had wanted for me had come to pass, but strictly on my terms. The daisy-chain I had constructed was a monument to my free-will.