It is apparent from psychiatric case histories that the sexual craving of "older" women for young boys-even prepubescent boys like Gina Green's Tim and Lonny Haskins in this book-is not a particularly uncommon phenomenon. Such cravings generally occur in women approaching menopause. The typical characteristics of such women, from the clinical point of view, are summarized by Dr. Willy, Vander and Fisher in The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex.
"The desire for satisfaction of the sexual impulses sometimes appears with such vehemence that even morally disposed individuals may be incapable of resistance. It happens again and again that women during the climacteric cause amazement and consternation in their own circle by the manner in which they forget or throw away everything, sacrificing not only money but also love and friendship in order to obtain one more passionate experience. Such women generally choose young men, sometimes even mere boys, as their partners for this funereal dance of their love life. Very frequently this is accompanied by a critical attitude towards their previous married life, regret over a 'wasted life,' which leads to mental restlessness."
The learned doctors remind us that "the love of an aging woman desperately clinging to her departing youth, who flouts social convention in order to experience one final adventure with an immature youth, has been the subject of many novels."
It is not, however, the subject of this one.
We don't mean to suggest that Amelia Frick, the aging heroine of Her Boarding House Boys, doesn't "flout social convention" or "cause amazement and consternation." She certainly does all that, and more. The difference between Amelia and the menopausal maniacs of clinical sexology is that Amelia is not obsessed by her desires. She isn't hung up or up tight about them, and they don't lead her down the desolate road to self-destruction.
The reason for this difference seems to be that Miss Green-or at least Amelia-is not weighted down by the heavy burden of guilt we are taught to associate with sexual matters. It is this burden, hung around our necks before we are old enough to understand it, and not the desires themselves that bring these ladies so much grief and despair, that causes them to "throw everything away," to sacrifice love and friendship, to make a 'funereal dance" out of what should be a happy and rewarding time in our lives. This is what Miss Green seems to be suggesting.
Cool and serene, calm, collected and supremely confident of herself, Amelia Frick enters the story from out of nowhere-or at least nowhere in particular-with her teenage daughter and her Russian wolfhound, and in a matter of a few months almost effortlessly pulls off a complete sexual revolution in a household on which the guardian vultures of the Puritan Ethic had roosted for generations.
Tim and Lonny Haskins are orphaned boys who live with their big brother Ned in the old Prescott Building, a hardware store with apartments upstairs. Before the widow Frick's arrival their biggest kick was perching on the balcony at the front, of the store masturbating while "trying to get a look at a pussy." After Amelia's departure they were well versed and accomplished at all kinds of sex, oral, anal, pubic or otherwise, and thought nothing of hopping onto their sister-in-law whenever the notion seized them.
The sister-in-law starts out as Amy Jean Jones, a chaste young country girl whose greatest sin apparently was sneaking off to watch a Billy Graham crusade on television at a friend's house. She ends up as Amy Jean Haskins, probably the swingingest wife in Arkansas. She was no longer, as Miss Green puts it, "the jealous bitch she had been ... and to. prove it she got Peggy"-Amelia's daughter-"into a threebee with her and Ned that afternoon ... Amy Jean found herself and Ned taking turns eating Peggy's pussy."
The enlightenment of old Mr. Billy Prescott and his hypocritical wife Sarah, a "rock of the church," is even more dramatic, and constitutes a memorable rebuke to the idea that erotic pleasure is impossible for people over forty. But we'd better leave the details, and all the rest of it, to the author.
"The desire for satisfaction of the sexual impulses sometimes appears with such vehemence that even morally disposed individuals may be incapable of resistance."
Like all of Gina Green's novels, this one is anything but a "message book." It is light-hearted adult entertainment with no holds barred. But if by implication it condemns any particular segment of our society, that segment must surely be these "morally disposed individuals."
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
The widow Amelia Frick, her daughter Peggy and Peter the Great arrived in Little Rock one hot, sunny summer afternoon. Mrs. Frick and Peggy came on the bus, but Peter the Great flew. He took a United Airlines Boeing 707 and arrived thirty minutes late and two hours and forty-seven minutes ahead of the ladies. They took a taxi to the airport and picked him up in the baggage room.
Lonny and Tim Haskins were leaning over the front rail of the balcony of Prescott Hardware, behind the sign, looking down into the cars going by in the street below. Tim, who was twelve, had his prick out as usual. It was soft and he was flipping it up and down and from side to side with two fingers.
His brother Lonny, who was eleven, said, "You better stop that."
"Why?" Tim asked, still flipping his prick. "Mizz Prescott's gonna see ya," said his brother. "Naw, she won't," Tim said.
And to show that he wasn't afraid, he turned around so that he was facing Mrs. Prescott's front window. He unsnapped his jeans and they dropped down around his slim smooth hips so that his little balls and everything showed. He didn't have any undershorts on. He spread his legs, thrust his pelvis forward, pointed his prick at Mrs. Prescott's window and skinned it back with his thumb and forefinger.
"Shouldn't we look in the yellow pages or something, Mother?" Peggy asked, pulling off her panties and letting her long black hair fly out the window of the taxi.
They were looking for a place to stay.
"You can't tell a thing from the yellow pages, dear," said Mrs. Frick, daintily dabbing at the sweat on her forehead with a linen hanky. "Don't worry, I know just the sort of place I'm looking for. When I see it, I will know it. Please, Peter, try to restrain yourself."
Peter the Great had a tremendous hard-on and he kept humping on Mrs. Frick's leg and sticking his nose up under the front of her skirt.
"It's much too hot for that," Mrs. Frick told him.
Peter the Great looked embarrassed. "What?" said Peggy.
"I said it's too hot for that," her mother said. "For looking in the yellow pages?" Peggy asked. With her head hanging out the window like that, the wind had been in her ears and she hadn't heard what her mother said.
"Never mind, dear," Mrs. Frick said, swabbing the sweat from between her big breasts with her linen hanky. "I'll know the place when I see it."
Wedged in between a fully air-conditioned, glass-fronted concrete office building and a big new Speedball supermarket, the Prescott building looked out of place. It looked like something the city had forgotten to tear down. It was once a country hardware store and rooming house, but in the last few years the city had grown up around it, as though it were an ingrown toenail. It was still a hardware store and rooming house, but it wasn't in the country any more.
It was a two-story frame building with clapboard walls and an oak shingle roof. The hardware store was on the ground floor and the rental rooms were on the second. Originally there had been eight rooms up there, four on each side of the central corridor which ran from the back to the front of the building. But the eight rooms had been changed into four apartments with two bathrooms, one on each side of the corridor.
Old Mr. Billy Prescott, the owner, and his wife Sarah occupied the front apartment on the south side-the side next to the glass and concrete office building-and the Haskins boys lived in the front apartment on the other side of the hallway.
Ned Haskins worked for Mr. Billy in the hardware store. He was twenty-two and had been taking care of his two little brothers, Tim and Lonny, ever since their parents had been killed by an airplane. There was no one else to take care of the little fellows. Mrs. Prescott kept telling Ned he should get married so that the boys would at least have a sister-in-law to look after them. And in fact Ned was engaged to a pretty nineteen-year-old girl named Amy Jean Jones, but he kept stalling around about actually getting married. The thought of it sort of scared him. Anyway it wasn't any of Mrs. Prescott's business.
Mrs. Prescott was in her fifties and a member of the Baptist church. She was very big in the church, what they call a "hardshell Baptist," and could be quite dangerous when the divine spirit was upon her. But Tim knew she was taking a nap, so he wasn't worried.
The thought of showing off his prick and balls to such a woman-like if she had actually been awake in there, watching him through her front window-made his little pecker puff up slightly in his hand, but it wasn't anything you could call a hard-oh.
"How ya like that, you old bitch?" he said, cupping his balls in his hands and jerking his ass. He was still facing the window. "And that, and that?" His open jeans slipped lower on his hips. "And that, and that?"
"I'm gettin' outa here," Lonny muttered, and headed for the door to the corridor.
Tim laughed. "Come on, stupid. Don'cha know the old bitch is takin' a nap?" He turned around and leaned on the sign again. But he left his jeans drooping down around his bare ass.
Lonny came back and leaned on the sign too. "If she wakes up, boy, are you gonna get it," he said.
Tim sighed, slipping his prick again. "At least it'd be some excitement."
"Sure as hell would," Lonny said.
Mr. Billy didn't call it a balcony. He called it the upstairs porch. Underneath it was the downstairs porch. Mr. Billy was down there, in his overalls, talking to a man in a business suit. The man was trying to talk Mr. Billy into remodeling his old building, and Mr. Billy kept asking why he would want to do that. He said there was nothing wrong with the old building, and he knocked on the wall with his red-knuckled fist to'prove it. The man in the business suit was trying to be nice about it, but you could tell he had his mind made up. He looked out of place standing there under the kerosene lanterns and the horse collars and the ax handles. He looked as out of place there as Mr. Billy would have looked in the office building next door.
It was true that the building was in good shape, considering its age. But in some respects it didn't give people that impression. Like the sign for instance.
It was nailed to the posts of the upstairs porch railing, and it read PRESCOTT HARDWARE ROOMS FOR RENT. But the sign was old and weathered and all you could make out was PRESCOTT, the first syllable of HARDWARE, the S in ROOMS, the O in FOR and the N in RENT' So that if you squinted at it, or glanced at it out of the corner of your eye, it looked like PRESCOTTS HARD ON.
Probably nobody around there ever noticed that because they knew what the sign was supposed to say. But it made Mrs. Frick and her daughter smile when they first saw it.
"Shit fire!" Lonny exclaimed suddenly. "Look at that!"
"Wha-?" Then Tim saw it too. "Hot damn!" For the last hour or so Tim and Lonny had been trying to get a look at a pussy. That's what they were doing up there on the upstairs porch, peering down into the passing cars. The ladies pulled their skirts up pretty high on these hot days, especially if they were driving by themselves. But the boys hadn't seen anything good today. That's why they were so bored.
But now all of a sudden Tim's little prick, which was limp a moment before, filled his hand like a warm sausage. Lonny's was hard too. Because Amelia Frick's taxi had stopped down there, right in front of the store. Peggy was on the near side of the car, in the back seat, holding her long black hair up off her neck with both hands. She had her short skirt pulled up to her belly and her suntanned legs were spread wide open. The black curls of her little twat, damp with perspiration, gleamed vividly in the sunlight slanting down through the window of the taxi. Her legs, also slick with sweat, gleamed like polished bronze, and they were spread so wide that Tim and Lonny could see the actual slit of her edible pussy.
"Goddamn!" Tim muttered, clutching his prick tightly and jacking his foreskin rapidly back and forth.
Lonny was panting too hard to say anything at all. He pulled his own prick out and started jacking off too. To hell with old lady Prescott.
Just then a blonde-haired woman-it was Mrs. Frick-got out on the other side of the taxi and looked up, right at Tim and Lonny.
Lonny saw her and said, "Duck!"
But all Tim could do was grunt. "Uhn, uhn, uhn!" And his cum went splat, splat, splat!
Finally, when he was able to tear his gaze from the girl's fuzzy crotch, Tim looked at the woman-Mrs. Frick-and saw that she was smiling at him. That smile terrified him. It was like the woman knew exactly what he was doing behind that sign.
At that moment Mrs. Prescott woke up from her nap. "What's going on out there?" she growled. "Run!" Lonny gasped.
Tim spun around and would have reached the door in one leap, but his jeans tripped him up and he fell flat on his face.
THUD!
"What was that?" said the man in the business suit, looking up and hitting his head on a kerosene lantern.
Mr. Billy looked up too. "Don't rightly know," he said.
The man frowned at the lantern and rubbed his head. "Mr. Billy, this place is about ready to fall down."
Mr. Billy spat tobacco juice into a trash can.
Mrs. Frick came around the back of the taxi and up the front steps of the store.
"You don't really think anybody would actually rent one of those old rooms up there, do you, Mr. Billy?" laughed the man.
"Help ye, ma'am?" Mr. Billy said to Mrs. Frick.
"Yes," Mrs. Frick said pleasantly. "My daughter and I noticed your sign and wondered if you might have a vacancy."
The man in the business suit looked at Mrs. Frick in disbelief.
Mr. Billy looked at her too. He looked her up and down. Then he looked at the man in the business suit. Then he spat into the trash can and said, "Yes, ma'am, I reckon I might."
"May we have a look?" asked Mrs. Frick.
She motioned to Peggy and Mr. Billy led the way through the store to the stairway at the back.
Peggy put her panties in her purse, smoothed her skirt down and got out of the taxi.
"Come on, Peter," she said.
Turning to look at Peggy and Peter the Great, the man in the business suit hit his head on a bundle of cow bells hanging from the ceiling. Bongalongalongalong!
Peggy's round firm-soft titties bobbed and jiggled as she came up the porch steps. She hadn't put her jacket back on and her nipples stuck out plainly under the front of her thin yellow blouse. She smiled at the man in the business suit, but he didn't notice because he was staring at her tits.
Peter the Great growled at him as they passed.
"Hush, Peter," Peggy said.
The man kept staring at her until she disappeared into the back of the store. Then, tripping over a roll of chicken wire, he left, scratching his sweaty balls and muttering to himself.
Tim and Lonny had barely managed to escape the wrath of old lady Prescott. Hiding in their room they listened to Mr. Billy showing the vacant apartment to somebody. It was the one next to theirs. They put their ears to the wall.
Mr. Billy didn't know about keeping a dog in an upstairs apartment. "Specially a dog the size o' that'n there," he said.
A lady-Mrs. Frick, of course-assured him that that was no problem. "Peter the Great," she told him, "is a grand champion Russian wolfhound."
Mr. Billy had a chaw of tobacco in his mouth and the boys couldn't make out exactly what he said, but it was something to the effect that he didn't reckon being a grand champion would keep a dog from shitting on the floor.
The lady laughed and explained that Peter the Great was no ordinary dog. "He uses the toilet the same as you and I," she said. "Would you like me to have him demonstrate?"
Mr. Billy let it drop and explained to them about the bathroom, which was between the two apartments with a door on each side. "When you folks go to use the bathroom," he said, "you'll have to latch that there door so them Haskins boys don't come in on ye. And when they use it, why they'll have to latch this here door, so you folks don't come in on them."
The lady assured him she understood, and Mr. Billy said, "I'll explain it to Ned when he gets back this evenin'."
The lady said that would be just fine.
"Ned?" said a girl's voice.
Tim and Lonny looked at each other.
Mr. Billy explained about Ned Haskins and his little brothers, Tim and Lonny, whose parents had been killed by an airplane.
"The poor little things," said the lady.
"Woof," said Peter the Great.
The lady said, "We'll take it," and Mr. Billy said he'd bring their bags up from the taxi.
Taxi?
Tim and Lonny looked at each other again.
"Shit fire!" Tim whispered. "It must be that girl that showed us her pussy!"
"And the lady that caught us lookin' at it!" whispered Lonny.
Amelia and Peggy were exhausted from their trip, so they undressed and took a nap.
Peter the Great was tired too. He must have been more tired than horny because he didn't try to fuck Amelia's leg any more. He got on the sofa and stretched out on his back.
Amelia was forty-six years old. Her tits sagged a bit because they were so big, the cheeks of her ass drooped a little and, while you couldn't exactly say she had a "gut," she was somewhat thick in the waist. But she had nice big curvy legs, a suntan from head to toe, and was not too bad looking for a woman her age.
She dyed her hair blonde, kept it rather short and curled or waved it in different ways. Until recently, when she and her daughter fell upon hard times, she went to the beauty parlor once a week. But now she had to use home permanents.
She didn't dye her bush. It was sort of a reddish-brown-that is, brown with some red sprigs in it-a thick, shaggy nest that peaked in a feathery ridge along the crack of her cunt like a cresting wave full of seaweed.
Peggy didn't take after her mother in that respect. Her pussy hair could hardly even be called a bush. It was just a lacy black fringe around the lips of her honey hole.
She had just turned seventeen and was really something. Words like "ripe" and "voluptuous" only hint at her beauty. She had a small mouth with full lips, usually moist, rosy cheeks, big blue eyes that could look either innocent or seductive, depending on her mood, and the cutest little nose. At one moment it could be the face of an angel, the next that of a whore.
She was short for her age but everything was in perfect proportion-except maybe for her boobs, which sometimes looked a little larger than life. They were round and buoyant, soft and firm at the same time. They were so full that they almost touched each other, and her nipples stood out in small domes only a little darker than the golden skin surrounding them. Wherever Amelia and Peggy came from, it must have been a place with a lot of sunshine. Peggy had a slim waist, a gently rounded soft-firm belly, a deep navel, gracefully flaring hips and an ass that could make ministers forget their scriptures. It had a little dimple over each cheek. Her long crow-black hair, which she wore straight and parted in the middle, and the delicate tracery of black curls which bordered the plump lips of her pussy and curved over the bulge of her little mound were the finishing touches to this living picture of erotic perfection.
No wonder Tim shot his wad so suddenly out there on the balcony. That is, the upstairs porch.
In a couple of hours Amelia and Peggy were dripping with sweat. Amelia woke up and said, "Let's get out of here."
They got some fresh clothes out of their suitcases and went to a nearby restaurant for dinner. While they were gone Ned returned from wherever he had been that day. Mr. Billy told him about their new tenants, the widow Frick and her "little girl," and he explained about locking the bathroom doors and all that. But Ned didn't pay much attention.
Despite his reluctance to get married right away, Ned was a level-headed young man. He was conscientious about his job in the hardware store and did not complain about having to shoulder the responsibility of a father. He was a good looking boy and had been around a little bit-hopped a few whores, got sucked off once in a massage parlor in Memphis, things like that-but he still liked apple pie, attended church regularly, did not watch the Watergate hearings and wanted to marry a virgin. Like a lot of people in Little Rock, Arkansas he was what you might call a country boy who lived in the city. In other words, he was not the sort to get excited over a widow and a little girl.
Of course he hadn't seen the little girl yet.
Anyway, he had a date with Amy Jean tonight and was in a hurry. He went upstairs and ran into Mrs. Prescott.
"Them boys o' yours was up to somethin' again today, Ned," she told him, and she went on about how they had run and hid when she yelled at them. "Locked themselves in there and wouldn't come out," she said.
Ned said he'd speak to them, thanked the old lady and tried to make his escape, but she grabbed him by the sleeve and started darting her beady little eyes around like a bird.
Ned sighed to himself. This sort of thing happened all the time. Mrs. Prescott always had something to tell him about those "naughty boys." It hardly ever amounted to anything but Ned always tried to humor her.
"What is it, Mizz Sarah?" he said.
Mrs. Prescott pulled him down to where she could whisper in his ear. "I think it had somethin' to do with them new folks," she whispered.
"What makes you think that, Mizz Sarah?"
"I feel it in my bones."
Mrs. Prescott was always feeling something in her bones. Ned said he was sort of in a hurry, he'd talk to the boys about it, and he pulled away from her as gently as he could.
The old lady sulked. As Ned was retreating into his apartment she came to life. "What them boys need is a mama to give their little bottoms a good switchin'!" she yelled.
Ned shut the door and started rushing around. He had to fix supper and take a bath and be at Amy Jean's place by eight o'clock. He was too busy to notice Tim and Lonny's nervousness. While opening a can of beans he remembered to ask them what they had been up to today. But they just said, "Nothin'," and he let it drop.
On their way back from the restaurant Peggy asked her mother how she had known there would be little boys living in that place. "And don't tell me you could smell them," she added, slapping Amelia on the ass with the doggy bag.
Amelia laughed. "No, I saw them. They were up there on the balcony, looking down at your pussy and jacking off."
"Really?!" Peggy shrieked with delight.
"Yes and one of them creamed all over the back of that hard-on sign, too," Amelia said. "I could tell by the expression on his face. I told you I'd know the place when I saw it."
Peggy giggled, then sighed. "Yeah, but it sure is a dump. Those kids are fine for you, but what about me?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten about their big brother!" Amelia said. "It's a perfect set-up for both of us. And the place is so cheap we can easily live on the pension. We won't even have to go out to work."
"Yeah. But Big Brother's probably a creep. And a hick. A creepy hick."
"What do you care," Amelia said with a grin, "as long as he's got a cock between his legs?"
"Oh, Mother!" Peggy scolded, slapping Amelia on the ass with the doggy bag again.
"They ain't from nowhere around here," Mrs.
Prescott grumbled as Mr. Billy soaked a biscuit in a saucer of sorghum molasses. "They ain't our kind of folks," she went on. "What's folks like that doin' in a place like this? And that there dog. Who ever heard of a dog usin' a bathroom like a human bein'? It ain't natural. What church do they belong to?"
"They didn't say," Mr. Billy mumbled, stuffing the biscuit into his mouth.
While Peter the Great wolfed the contents of the doggy bag Amelia went to the bathroom door and put her ear against it. Then she knelt down and peeked through the keyhole.
"Psst!" She motioned for Peggy to come and have a peek. "Take a look at your creepy hick," she whispered.
When Peggy got her eye to the keyhole Ned was just stepping out of his undershorts.
"Oh, wow!" Peggy exclaimed under her breath.
Big Brother had a magnificent, uncircumcised, banana-like cock. It was surrounded by dark brown bristly curls and drooped over a nice hefty pair of purplish balls. His body was slim and hard-muscled and Peggy began to feel warm and squishy between the legs. When she thought about how big that prick would be on the bone, her nipples puffed up like little balloons and the knobs got as hard as pebbles.
When Ned moved over to the tub, out of sight from the keyhole, Peggy got up and ran over to Amelia with a big shit-eating grin on her face. "I think I'm gonna like this place after all, Mother!" she whispered excitedly.
Amelia chuckled softly. "I thought you'd change your mind," she said.
Peggy had already kicked off her shoes and unfastened her dress. She was wearing a light green wrap-around thing with nothing on under it, and in a flash she was naked and heading for the bathroom door again.
"Peggy, what are you doing?" Amelia asked.
"Sh! I want to see if this door...." She turned the knob and pushed gently. Ned had forgotten to latch it. "It's open!" Peggy whispered. "I'm gonna-!"
"No, you're not," Amelia said firmly. "Shut it."
Peggy closed the door softly and came stomping over to her mother, her golden titties bouncing furiously. "Why?" she demanded. "Why can't I-?"
"Because it's too soon," Amelia said. "You could mess it up for both of us, rushing in like that." Then she smiled and scratched her daughter playfully between the legs. "Don't worry, dear. You won't have long to wait."
Amelia looked at her fingers. They were wet. She sniffed them. "My goodness," she said. 'That young man really did turn you on, didn't he?"
When she heard the shower stop, Peggy went back to the keyhole and watched Ned until he left the bathroom.
"Woof?" asked Peter the Great when he had finished his dinner.
Ned gave Tim and Lonny strict instructions not to leave the apartment while he was gone and rushed off to pick up Amy Jean. Unbeknownst to Mrs. Prescott and Amy Jean's grandmother, who would have been furious if they had known, Ned and Amy Jean were going to watch Part Two of a Billy Graham television crusade at the home of another young lady. The other young lady had also invited her boyfriend to the secret party. Amy Jean's grandmother thought Billy Graham was too radical, and Mrs. Prescott thought he was a sex maniac. This was Amy Jean's idea of rebelling against parental authority.
"Come on!" Tim hissed.
He grabbed a chair and ran into the bedroom. Lonny was right behind him. They had this all planned. They had planned it while Ned was taking his shower. Tim shoved the chair into the closet and Lonny jumped up on the seat. There was an open hatchway in the ceiling of the closet.
"I can't reach it," Lonny whispered.
The last time they had done this was when Ned had painted the apartment. That was when they had discovered the holes in the ceiling of the other apartment. But that time they had used a stepladder which was now in the old barn out back.
"Step on my shoulder!" Tim whispered. "Hurry up!"
Lonny put a bare foot on his brother's shoulder and launched himself at the black square overhead. As soon as he hauled himself over the dusty edge of the hatch he heard the voices of the lady and the girl. They seemed to be arguing about something.
"It is not!" Peggy was saying.
"It is too," said her mother.
"It is not!"
"It is too, dear. Come on, Peter."
Lonny crawled along a pair of boards toward some thin rays of dusty yellow light. Tim was taller than Lonny and he made it through the hatch without any trouble. Feverishly he followed his brother toward the holes.
They had both had orgasms four hours ago (Lonny had jacked off after Mrs. Prescott had stopped pounding on the door and he had calmed down from the scare) but they were young and horny and four hours was plenty long enough for them to get worked up again.
"Listen, goddamn it," Peggy was saying. "This is Tuesday, right?"
"Yes, dear," Amelia said patiently. 'This is Tuesday. Unhook my bra, will you?"
The boys in the attic almost fell off the boards in their rush to get to the peepholes.
"So it's my turn!" Peggy said. "Tuesday is my night!"
"Tuesday was your night," Amelia said, and she squealed. It was sort of a giggly squeal. "Please, Peter honey, wait till I get undressed."
"Gruh, gruh, gruh!"
Tim and Lonny stopped and looked at each other in the dark. Then they surged ahead again, panting with eagerness. What was going on down there? The holes were only a few feet away now.
"What do you mean, Tuesday was my night?"
"We had to skip a night because of the trip, dear. You had him Sunday and neither of us had him Monday. So now it's my turn. Isn't that right, Peter?"
"Woof!"
"Shit," Peggy said with disgust.
Luckily there were two peepholes over the place the voices were coming from. Otherwise Tim and Lonny would have probably had a big fight and fallen through the ceiling, right on top of Amelia and the dog.
They got their eyes to the holes just in time to see Peter the Great mounting up.
Amelia was on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, which was directly below the holes. She was stark naked and the big long shaggy dog was hunched over her bare ass, clutching her around the waist with his forelegs. The dog was skinny and her ass was fat, so that her buttocks showed on both sides of the dog's humping haunches.
He had his big long snout thrust up at an angle, as though he were about to howl at the moon or something, and he was going, "Gruh! Gruh!
Gruh!" He was humping like hell, but he hadn't got it in yet.
Then Amelia dropped to one elbow and reached between her legs with the other hand. "Easy, honey," she said, breathing hard. "Easy now ... easy ... oh ... there ... There!"
"Gruh!"
"Oh, yeah!" Amelia gasped. "Do it to me, baby! Do it-do it-do it!"
By this time both boys had their dicks out and were jacking them for all they were worth. A dog fucking a lady! Hot damn! It was so exciting that they almost forgot about the girl. Then Tim caught a movement beside the bouncing bed and shifted his angle of sight a little.
There she was!-standing there without a stitch on, watching the dog fuck her mother! There was that pussy again-and look at them tits!
Peggy sighed and said, "Well, come on, finger. Let's make mad love." And with that she lay down on the floor beside the bed, face-up, and spread her lovely legs.
Oh, no! Tim thought. He was looking right up her snatch! He didn't want to shoot his wad yet, but he could feel it coming. Lonny had spotted her too by this time, and they both watched as she stuck the middle finger of her right hand up her juicy fuckhole to get it slippery and then started stroking her little clitty.
Her eyes closed and her mouth opened and her hand moved faster and faster. The dog and the lady were both making a lot of grunting noises, but Tim could have swom he heard the squishy sounds the girl was making with her finger.
Then she started to grunt sort of like her mother was grunting, only not so loud, and her hips started to twitch. Her legs opened wider and her knees bent and Tim saw the lower part of her little pussy opening and closing like a mouth without teeth, or an oyster without a shell, and then Peter the Great got his gun.
The boys had no doubt about that. They'd never seen a dog fuck a lady before but they'd seen plenty of them fucking other dogs. Amelia let out a sort of hissing scream-a sound similar to that of escaping steam-and reared up like a horse, with Peter still hanging on, slobbering all over her back and pumping it to her with powerful jerking thrusts of his shaggy haunches.
"Gruh! Gruh! Gruh!"
Tim and Lonny wondered if they would get hung up.
Peggy's orgasm had started by that time, and she was bucking and writhing on the floor. "Ah-ah-ah-!"
Lonny's prick exploded in his hand: Squirt, SPLAT.
Tim had already started cumming: Squirt, SPLAT!
With the room below suddenly quiet, those splats sounded like gunshots. SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!
At least they sounded that loud to the boys, and in their panic they started scrambling frantically back toward the hatchway, with the cum still squirting out of their pricks.
Squirt, squirt, squirt!....
They left a trail that would have been easy to follow.
"You know, dear," Amelia called as she lowered herself into the bathtub, "there's really no need for us to take turns with Peter. I mean, he'll be ready to go again in a few minutes. If you'd waited-"
"A few hours, you mean," Peggy said, strolling into the bathroom. "I got too hot lookin' at that guy's cock to wait that long." She sat down on the toilet and took a piss.
In the other room Peter the Great was licking his prick. All of a sudden he stopped and stared into space. He wrinkled up his long nose. Sniff, sniff. Then he looked up at the ceiling over the bed and sniffed some more. He stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Finally, he said, "Woof?" and went back to licking his fucked-out prick.
CHAPTER TWO
The next day Amelia got everything ready and watched for an opportunity. There would have been plenty of them if it hadn't been for Mrs. Prescott. Tim and Lonny kept snooping around in the hall, whispering and giggling, and a couple of times Amelia thought she heard them in the attic. Once she was certain they were in the bathroom, taking turns peeking through the keyhole.
But Mrs. Prescott kept puttering around and getting in the way, messing up Amelia's chances. She brought clean sheets and insisted on making the bed herself. She brought an old electric fan. She brought a little TV set. She brought this, that and the other thing, and every time she came in she scanned the apartment suspiciously with darting glances of her beady bird-like eyes. There was nothing Amelia could do with the old lady getting in the way like that.
Finally, about three o'clock, Mrs. Prescott went into her apartment and shut the door. Amelia heard the boys come running up the back stairs. She put her ear to the wall and heard them say it was time for the old lady's nap. They whispered excitedly as they crept past Amelia's door. She ran over to the sofa where Peggy was watching television.
"Okay, this is it!" she said. "The old lady's taking a nap. Go on down there and do your stuff."
"I'm gone!" Peggy said. She jumped up and ran into the bedroom to check herself out in the cracked mirror over the dresser.
"But don't bring him up here," Amelia said. "I mean, not right away. Tell him you'll meet him somewhere later, after he gets off work."
Peggy shrugged. "I might just fuck him down there in the store."
"Peggy, please. If you get us kicked out of here before I-"
Peggy giggled. "Oh, Mother, you're so-"
"I know, I'm so old-fashioned. Get the hell out of here."
As soon as Peggy was gone Amelia got the picture books out from under the chair cushion, where she had hidden them when Mrs. Prescott started snooping around, and spread them out on the sofa. She locked the doOr, took off all her clothes and put on a short, thin nylon dressing gown. The top part of the gown-the bodice and the elbow-length sleeves-was of black lace, through which the big dark brown circles of Amelia's nipples were easily visible. The skirt of the gown, which hung from just below her tits to a point about halfway between her cunt and her knees, was bright chartreuse and semi-transparent. Her bush didn't show through too well, because the two sides of the gown overlapped in front when it was closed, but the crack of her ass did.
She did this very quickly, listening for any movement in the bathroom. Hearing nothing from in there, she knelt and put her eye to the keyhole.
Almost at the same instant, the door on the opposite side of the bathroom opened and Tim stuck his head in. He turned, motioned to his brother with a jerk of his head, and the two of them came tiptoeing into the little room.
Amelia stood up, smoothed her gown, and jerked the door open.
Whump!-Tim fell on his face at her feet.
"Oh, my goodness!" Amelia exclaimed, trying not to laugh. "Did you hurt yourself? Here, let me help you up."
Tim was paralyzed with fear. Amelia had to lift him from the floor and then hold him up. His knees were trembling so bad he couldn't even support himself.
Lonny was scared too, but he wasn't quite paralyzed. At first he was more surprised than scared. He had been standing right behind Tim while his brother squatted down to take the first turn at the keyhole, and then all of a sudden the keyhole wasn't there and Tim had fallen out the door. As soon as Lonny had realized what happened he got ready to make a run for it, but something had stopped him in his tracks.
What had stopped him was Amelia's left tit.
She had tied the negligee loosely, so that the front of it was open almost all the way down to her waist, and when she bent over to help Tim up, the bodice sagged open, revealing her whole left tit, nipple and all, to Lonny's startled gaze. By that time he saw that the lady wasn't mad, so he held his ground and waited to see what would happen.
As she dragged Tim's trembling little body over to the sofa, Amelia looked back over her shoulder and gave Lonny a smile that made his legs feel weak and waxy.
"Come on in, sugar," she said.
Lonny stared at the crack of her ass, which winked back at him through the thin pea-green nylon of that thing she was wearing. This was a lot different than peeking through a keyhole or a hole in the ceiling. Lonny was still staring at that winking ass crack when he discovered he had walked halfway across the room toward.
"Now just sit right down here, honey," Amelia was saying to Tim, "and let me have a look at you." She shoved some of the picture books out of the way and lowered the boy to the sofa. She was already breathing a little too heavy in her eagerness, but she managed to control herself. "There," she said, bending over him in such a way that her big tits hung right in front of his face.
Tim blinked. Good gosh, he thought. The front of the lady's gown was hanging open. She didn't have anything on under it. He could see her big brown nipples through the lace. His knees had stopped trembling. He had a hard-on.
So did Lonny.
"Did you hurt your head?" Amelia asked.
"N-no ma'am," Tim stammered.
"My goodness, your face is burning up!"
"M-ma'am?"
"Do you have a fever, honey?"
"Well, you sit right there and I'll get you something cold to drink."
Amelia felt their eyes on her ass as she went over to the kitchen counter and fixed some iced tea. Visions of their little pricks, all stiff and leaky, twitched in her head. Easy, girl, she said to herself. Slow and easy, now....
Lonny was still standing there by the sofa like some kind of zombie. He took his eyes off Amelia's jiggling butt long enough to glance at his brother, and that was when he noticed the picture books for the first time.
One of the magazines lay open beside Tim. It was open to two full-page color photos. On the lefthand page was a picture of a beautiful naked girl straddling the face of a naked man. She was on her knees on a bed and the man had his tongue in her pussy. She seemed to be enjoying it.
The picture on the other page showed a good-looking middle-aged woman and a boy about twelve or thirteen years old. They were outdoors, in bright sunlight, in some kind of park or playground, but neither of them had any clothes on. The woman had the boy's prick in her mouth.
Holy cow! Lonny thought.
Meanwhile, Peggy was making progress too.
Mr. Billy had taken the day off to go fishing, so Ned was all by himself in the store. There hadn't been any customers in about an hour and he was just leaning back in Mr. Billy's old wooden chair with his feet up on the counter, gazing out the front door at the bustling shopping center across the street.
Sometimes, sitting inside this gloomy, sawdust-and-tobacco-smelling store and looking out at the bright, modern, flashing world out there, Ned got the feeling maybe he was being left behind. It wasn't only working in the store. It was the way he spent his off hours. He hadn't been to Memphis in over a year, and watching Billy Graham on TV was about the most exciting thing he'd done all month. Oh, Amy Jean was all right. He reckoned she'd make him a good wife someday. But sometimes a man needed ... needed....
Something made him look around.
"Oh!" Ned jumped up, nearly knocking the heavy chair over. Somebody was standing at the end of the counter. He blinked his eyes, trying to readjust his vision to the gloom. "Didn't see ya come in," he said, blinking again. It was a teenage girl.
The girl giggled and said, "Well, I didn't come in, exactly."
Ned blinked again. Jesus Malone!"
Remember that this was the first time he had laid eyes on little Peggy Frick.
She was barefooted, wearing only a pair of faded cutoff blue jeans and a sleeveless white T-shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra. The knobs of her nipples stuck out like stubby little fingers....
"Uh ... what?" Ned said at last.
"I said I didn't exactly come in," Peggy replied with a sexy smile. "I came down."
"Uh,"-Ned swallowed and, with a mighty effort, raised his eyes from the girl's fantastic tits to her big blue eyes-"came down from where?"
"From up there, silly," Peggy laughed, pointing at the ceiling. The action made her free-swinging tits bob and jiggle buoyantly inside the thin, tight-fitting front of her T-shirt. "I live here."
Ned stared at her for a moment. Suddenly it hit him. Shit fire! he thought. She must be that little girl Mr. Billy was tellin' me about! 'Little girl,' my butt!
"Oh," he said with a nervous grin. "I didn't think ... I mean, I wasn't expectin' ... uh...."
The "little" girl laughed at his nervousness and suddenly Ned felt ridiculous. Why was he so shook up over a pair of tits? He cleared his throat and said, "I'm Ned. I live up there too."
"Yeah, I know. I'm Peggy."
"Well, Peggy, what can I do for you?"
She gave him that sexy smile again-only this time it was more suggestive than ever-and went around to the front of the counter. She turned her round, full-cheeked little ass to him, sat down and spun around so that she was sitting crosslegged on the countertop, facing him. Her cutoffs were very short, and now Ned saw that she didn't have any panties on either. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
"Oh, I don't know," she said finally. Her voice was low and breathy now. "Probably you'll think of something."
Clutching her cunt with both hands, as though to keep if from exploding, Amelia squinted through the keyhole.
After bringing the iced tea to the boys she had told them to relax, make themselves at home, she had to go to the bathroom and would be back in a minute. This was to give the kids' horniness time to overcome their fright. As soon as she got into the bathroom Amelia had dropped to her knees and clutched her cunt.
The moment the door was closed Tim and Lonny had each snatched up a magazine, and now they were feverishly flipping through them. Their eyes got bigger and bigger. Their mouths hung open. Their nostrils flared.
Amelia bit her lip and ran three fingers up her fuckhole. Oh, God, they were so cute! Both of them were slim-bodied, strong-limbed little fellows with brown hair. The younger one was shorter and a little skinnier than his brother, and his hair was lighter, almost blond. Tim's hair was dark and he was starting to fill out in the chest and shoulders. Amelia was certain neither of them would have any hair in their crotches. That was the way she liked it. They were perfect, just perfect.
From the way they had started rubbing themselves between the legs, Amelia judged they had had enough time. She stood up and opened the door abruptly.
Tim and Lonny jumped, tossed their magazines aside and turned red in the face. Amelia laughed and walked over to them. In spite of the boys' embarrassment their eyes locked helplessly onto her swinging tits.
"Oh, do you like those picture books?" she asked slyly. "I'd let you take them along with you but"-she chuckled-"well, your big brother might not approve. Am I right?"
Tim swallowed and said, "Yes, ma'am." Lonny nodded.
Amelia laughed. "I know about big brothers," she said, sitting down on an arm of the sofa and crossing her big golden legs so that the pea-green gown parted from her thighs. "But you can come over here and look at them whenever you want." Noticing that Lonny's eyes were still on her tits, she added, "The magazines, I mean."
Lonny looked up and blushed a deep crimson color.
Amelia laughed and asked Tim if he felt better now. He said he did and she said, "Well, since we're going to be neighbors we may as well get acquainted. My name is Amelia Frick."
"Uh,"-gulp-"I'm Tim Haskins and, uh, this here's my brother Lonny."
Amelia shook their hot little hands. "When we're by ourselves," she said with a wink, "you can call me Amelia. But when there are others present, like Mrs. Prescott for instance, you'd better make it Mrs. Frick. Just so nobody gets any funny ideas. If you know what I mean," she added.
They weren't sure they did, and while they were wondering about it Amelia uncrossed her legs, giving the boys a quick look at her cunt hair, got up and sat down between them. As she did that she untied the black sash of her dressing gown with a quick movement that neither of the boys noticed.
"Let's look at some of these together, shall we?" she said, picking up a magazine called Raw Meat. "This is a good one."
She spread the magazine on her lap and started turning the pages. The boys had been sitting fairly close together, so that Amelia had had to squeeze in between them. They had pulled back automatically to give her room, but as she turned the pages they slowly began creeping back, and now she could feel the heat of their little thighs against hers. They were wearing jeans, but the heat came right through. By the time she had gone through ten pages or so Amelia figured their dicks must be as stiff as her clit.
She was right, too. Tim didn't know whether to look at the pictures or at Amelia's tits. With each page she turned it seemed like her nightgown opened up a little wider, until the whole inside surfaces of her big round boobs were bare almost to the nipples. His hands were sweating, he was breathing hard and his prick felt like it was on fire.
Lonny was in about the same condition, but the thing that was really getting to him was the pressure of Amelia's big bare thigh against his leg. He just couldn't get over the fact that he was actually in physical contact with her! Once, without consciously intending to do it, he pushed his thigh harder against her.
Amelia pushed back.
It was probably at that moment that Lonny fell in love with her.
"How about that?" Amelia chuckled, turning to a photo of a big German shepherd fucking a young red-haired girl. "Have you ever seen a dog do it to a lady?"
Lonny glanced nervously at Peter the Great, who was lying in the corner with his chin on his paws, watching.
"Once," Tim said before he realized what he was saying.
Amelia looked at him. "Oh, really?" she said, thinking, Well, well. They've been busier than I thought. "By the way, what were you doing on your hands and knees behind the bathroom door, anyway?"
"I-uh-uh-"
"Trying to see what you could see through the keyhole, I'll bet," she said, nudging him playfully in the ribs with her elbow.
"N-no, I-" Tim began.
"Never mind," Amelia said and laughed. "I know how much boys your age like to peep. But in this case it's not really necessary. I'll show it to you any time."
"See?" she said.
Then she pushed the open magazine down to her knees, baring her bushy cunt. The gown was already parted down there. She said, "Peekaboo," and pulled the magazine back up to her lap.
Oh, Lord, thought Tim and Lonny.
"So why strain your eyeballs at a keyhole?" Amelia went on. "Or risk breaking a leg or something climbing around in the attic?"
"Woof," Peter the Great put in.
Meanwhile, Ned had thought of something.
He had little Peggy backed up into a corner behind the counter with her T-shirt pulled up to her armpits. He had his tongue in her mouth and his left hand in the seat of her cutoffs, vigorously fingering the tight strong crack of her hot little ass. He was feeling her bare titties with his right hand, cupping them, rubbing them, pinching the nipples and so forth. Pushing her chest hard against his big strong hand, Peggy opened his fly and slid her hand inside. She didn't have any trouble finding his cock.
Holy shit! she thought, coiling her tongue around his.
But she did have trouble getting it out of his pants.
It's bigger than I thought it would be!
The damn thing didn't want to bend. It was like an iron pipe. Finally, by rotating it to one side, she got it out. Her cutoffs were already unsapped and unzipped. Gripping that huge hot banana behind the head with both hands, sort of like you would grip a baseball bat, she guided its nose into the soft black fuzz on the upper slope of her plump little pussy hump.
She let it root around down there, skinning it back occasionally. It drooled into her fuzz. The drool was warm. He began to breathe heavier, his right hand clutched harder at her tits, his tongue snaked into her throat and his left hand pushed deeper into the seat of her shorts, down into the crotch, and his middle finger slid up into her juicy little fuckhole.
Ned would have fucked her right there and then, standing up against the wall, crammed in between the shotgun shells and the hunting jackets. And Peggy would have let him, in spite of her mother's instructions. But just when things were getting good, somebody entered the store.
Peggy saw her coming up the front steps. "Shit," she panted. "Somebody's comin' in."
Ned glanced over his shoulder and said "I don't give a...."
Then he did a double-take and jumped away from Peggy like she was a leper or something. "JesusMalone!" he gasped. "It's Amy Jean!
CHAPTER THREE
Amelia had engaged Tim and Lonny in casual conversation in hopes of relieving the tension and setting them more at ease. She got them to tell her a little about their late mother and father.
"Now, when you say they were killed by an airplane," Amelia queried, "do you mean they were in an airplane that crashed?"
"No, ma'am," Tim said, trying not to look at Amelia's tits, which were still bare.
"They was killed by an airplane," Lonny said.
"See, they went to visit a church up in Yell County," Tim explained, "with some friends o' theirs."
"And then this airplane fell on the church," Lonny said.
"How awful," said Amelia.
Tim said, "Mizz Prescott says it was a act of God."
"Why?" Amelia asked.
"'Cause it wasn't a Baptist church," Tim said.
"That reminds me of the oceanographers' report on a pregnant mermaid," Amelia said. "They said it was an 'act of cod.' "
Tim and Lonny didn't get it.
"That was a joke," Amelia explained, opening a new magazine on her lap.
Cod was not a well known fish in Arkansas.
"There's a nice picture," Amelia observed. It was a photo of a young man feeling the breasts of a naked girl who was stretched out on a lounge chair in somebody's backyard. The young man was naked too, and he had a hard-on. The girl was holding his cock in her hand. "Have you guys ever done that?"
The boys shook their heads.
"Would you like to?"
Tim looked at Lonny, then back at the magazine. Lonny looked at Tim, and then he looked back at the magazine too. Finally Tim said, "Like to what?" and Lonny giggled. Tim giggled too. They were both staring at the picture without seeing it, because they were afraid to look at Amelia.
"Feel my tits, silly," Amelia laughed. And then in a softer voice: "I'll bet you'd like to, wouldn't you, Lonny?"
Lonny swallowed.
"He's skeered," Tim said.
Amelia looked at him. "You're not, are you?"
"I ain't neither!" Lonny said, glaring at his brother. "You're the one that's skeered."
"I ain't neither," Tim replied.
"Shit!" Lonny sneered.
"Shit, yourself," sneered his brother.
Amelia laughed. "I don't know what there is to be scared of anyway," she said, taking one of Tim's hands in her right hand and one of Lonny's in her left. "Look." And she lifted their little hands up to her tits, pressing Lonny's palm against her left nipple and Tim's against her right nipple.
Lonny's hand began to move first. It sort of cupped itself over the fat brown nipple. Then Tim's fingers started moving, pressing timidly into the flesh of that big bare tit. Amelia took her own hands away. The others stayed where they were, more or less.
"Mmmmmmmmmm," Amelia purred, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head, throwing out her chest. "That feels nice...."
Peggy had managed to get her T-shirt pulled down and her shorts pulled up before Amy Jean actually came into the store. She told Ned she'd catch him later, blew him a kiss and went out the back way, leaving him with the problem of getting his cock back into his pants.
But instead of going back upstairs immediately, Peggy hid in the bolt room and listened. This is what she heard:
"Who was that girl?" Amy Jean asked.
"Oh! Howdy, Amy Jean," Ned said, as if he had just noticed her. 'What're you doin' here?"
There was a pause, then Amy Jean said, "Ned?"
"Huh?"
"Why are you tryin' to change the subject?"
"Change what subject, Amy Jean?"
"I asked you who that girl was."
"Who what girl was?"
"That girl you were talkin' to when I came in."
"Talkin' to...? Oh, that girl I was talkin' to! That girl. Heh, heh, heh."
"Well? Who was she?"
"I don't know. Just some little girl that lives around here some place. She wanted a screw-I mean, a bolt."
"Uh...." Peggy couldn't hear what Ned said because he mumbled it in a low voice, but he must have said, "Upstairs," because that was the next thing Amy Jean said:
"Upstairs?"
"Aw, come on, now, Amy Jean. Don't tell me you're gonna get jealous of a little girl like that. Shoot, she ain't but eleven years old."
"Eleven years old?"
"Eleven or twelve, somethin' like that. Her and her mama moved in up there yesterday. How come you ain't at work?"
Amy Jean said she was on her break and she could only stay a minute. Peggy found a hole in the wall at the back of one of the shelves.
"Ned, stop it," Amy Jean said in a softer voice. "Ned, please! Not here in the store...."
Peggy moved some bolt boxes out of the way so she could peek through the hole.
Ned had his arms around Amy Jean and was trying to kiss her. She was prettier than Peggy had thought: She had nice full hips, a slim waist, and her tits would probably have looked pretty good too if she hadn't had them strapped into that armored bra, which made them look like cement pyramids. Her blonde hair was short in back, teased up on top and shellacked into a solid mass with hair spray. Peggy thought she would have a pretty face if she would stop frowning. She was wearing a white uniform with a round red badge over her left tit which read, SPEEDBALL.
"Cut it out, Ned! I've got to get back to the store. I just ran over here to remind you of the supper at the church tonight."
"Shoot," Ned said, letting her go. "You think Mizz Prescott'd let me forget a supper at the church?"
"Well, we're supposed to be there at five-thirty, so you'll have to hurry. I thought I'd just come straight over here after work instead of goin' home first. That'll save some time. Is that okay? ... Ned?"
"Huh?-oh! Yeah, that's fine, honey. I'll close up at four-thirty and be ready at five."
"Tell Tim and Lonny so we don't have to wait on them."
"Right. We'll be ready. See ya later."
Amy Jean marched to the front door, then turned around and said, "You keep away from that 'little' girl, Ned Haskins. You hear me?"
Ned heard her.
Peggy giggled to herself and went upstairs.
"Bet you've never done that, either," Amelia said, running her left hand up along the inside of Lonny's thigh.
She had turned to a picture of a young man getting a blowjob. It was not clear whether he was getting it from a boy or a girl. It was either a smooth-skinned, longish-haired boy or a flat-chested, short-haired girl. Whatever it was, it had a nice ass. Its crotch was hidden from view.
At the time Amelia said that, neither Tim nor Lonny was looking at the picture. Amelia had slid the magazine further toward her knees so that her shaggy cunt was uncovered. That was what the boys were looking at. They had their hands on her tits and their eyes on her cunt. Now they quickly shifted their gaze to the picture.
"Heck no!" Tim said.
"We ain't queers!" said Lonny.
Amelia laughed. "I assumed that was a girl."
"Looks like a boy to me" Tim said.
"Well, anyway," Amelia chuckled as her hand slid up over the hard little bulge of Lonny's pecker, "what I meant was-have you ever been sucked off?"
Tim shook his head. Lonny's prick jumped under Amelia's hand, but except for that he didn't move a muscle.
"Would you like to be?" Amelia asked softly, letting the magazine slip between her thighs and fall to the floor.
Tim swallowed. "By a-" He gigled nervously. "By a boy or a girl?"
Amelia smiled and put her right hand between Tim's legs. His dick nudged her hard in the heel of her palm. "By me, silly," she said.
Peter the Great let out a great sigh and crossed his paws over his nose.
It came to light much later that Sarah Prescott had a recurrent dream that she had never told anybody about. She usually had the dream during her afternoon nap, and today was no exception.
The dream involved a big mongrel hound called Old Blue and took place many years ago when Sarah was a young girl living on her father's farm up near Clinton. Old Blue was one of her father's hunting dogs.
The dream always began with Old Blue sniffing around behind the barn, hot on the trail of something. Blue was a good hunter. He could track squirrel, rabbit, coon, fox, deer and bear. But this time he was on the trail of pussy. He finally nosed into the barn and found it between Sarah's legs, which were spread.
She was lying in a pile of hay in the corner of one of the horse stalls with her skirts pulled up around her waist. She didn't have any drawers on.
"Come on, Blue!" she panted.
The big dog lumbered into the stall and started licking her in the crotch with his long wet tongue. The girl lay back in the hay, grabbed her tits with both hands, spread her legs as far as they would spread and made little squealing and grunting noises.
Then she rolled over and got on her hands and knees, sticking her bare ass in old Blue's face.
All that part of the dream took place while Peggy Frick was coming up the stairs. As she started to enter her own apartment she heard a strange noise coming from the other side of the corridor. She listened for a moment, then tiptoed over to Mrs. Prescott's door and put her ear against it.
For a minute she thought the old lady was in some kind of trouble, perhaps being raped or something. But that was silly. Who would want to rape old lady Prescott?
The noises sounded something like this: "Uhg, uhn, oh, mmmmm. Ah, ah, ho ... Gh, gh, gh! Uh ... oo, oo, oo...."
Finally Peggy shrugged and went back over to her own door.
Meanwhile, Amelia had slipped out of her dressing gown altogether, saying something about the weather being too hot to wear anything, and Lonny had pulled off his T-shirt.
Amelia had already noticed that the younger boy was more receptive to her attentions than Tim. Tim would be no problem, it was just that he was still a little scared and self-conscious. So she decided to take Lonny on first, and now she was on her knees on the sofa, helping the little fellow take his jeans off.
Tim just sat there at the other end of the sofa, staring at Amelia's naked ass while she peeled the jeans from his brother's legs. The ass stared back at him. Lonny's prick sprang up in Amelia's face and her mouth immediately filled with hot saliva. Oh, it was adorable! It was no more than three inches long, probably a little shorter, but that was just the way Amelia liked them. It was as stiff as a spike, and its little red head was bulging out of its foreskin. The whole thing was slick and wet with clear, warm leakage, and so were the insides of his thighs and his tightly drawn-up nuts. His crotch was white and smooth, completely hairless. He didn't even have any peach fuzz.
Easy now, Amelia. She wanted to gobble him up, such his balls, stick her tongue up his tight little virgin asshole-! But she knew that would scare him to death. She had to be slow and gentle now. All the rest would come later. Easy, girl--
Lonny was trembling and breathing hard but he lay back against the arm of the sofa and let Amelia lift his legs and drape them over her shoulders. When her hot, moist breath bathed his crotch he though he was going to shoot off right in her face. He sucked a mighty lungful of air and gripped the sofa cushion with both hands.
Amelia started by licking his hard little balls with her slippery tongue. She licked them gently, lovingly, with slow cat-like strokes, savoring the flavor of his leakage and letting his stiff prick jerk and twitch and bump against her nose.
She slid her hands under his hot little ass, cupped the cheeks in her palms and lifted them slightly as the tip of her tongue fluttered down into the delicious valley between his nuts and his asshole ... but she stopped herself from going lower and eased her hands out from under his behind.
Lonny's breath went out in a whoosh when she took his prick between her fingertips and started licking the underside of it. As she licked her way up the stiff little shank she skinned it back gently with her fingers, uncovering the bright shiny red head....
Meanwhile, Tim, who had been watching all this from the other end of the sofa, had a sudden surge of jealousy which annihilated his fear. He felt he was being left out. He was the oldest, wasn't he? Why should that little shit have all the fun while he sat there and watched? Tim had never had any doubts that he would get his first piece of ass before Lonny, but now....
All of a sudden he had an inspiration. He'd been sitting there face to face with Amelia's big bronze ass, staring at the deep crack and the beard of reddish brown shag below it, when the big dog in the corner let out another sigh. An image popped into Tim's mind: an image of Peter the Great humping Amelia. Dogstyle....
He jumped up, whipped his T-shirt off, unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. He had them down to his knees when Peggy walked in.
CHAPTER FOUR
THUD!
The whole building shook.
A lightning bolt ripped into the bam where young Sarah Prescott was committing sodomy with Old Blue.
The wrath of god!
Mrs. Prescott woke up in a cold sweat.
This loud noise, followed by some frantic scrambling sounds, made Amelia slip her lips off the head of Lonny's prick and look up in time to see a streak of white skin flash past the sofa and vanish into the bedroom. On the floor she saw a white T-shirt and, a little further toward the bedroom door, a pair of jeans. Then she saw Peggy standing there by the door.
"Holy shit," said the girl with a little laugh. "What's with him?"
"Peggy, what-?" Amelia began, but at that moment Lonny realized someone else had come into the room. He panicked and began struggling to get up, but Amelia managed to hold him down. "Hey, take it easy! Whoa! It's only my daughter Peggy, silly."
"But-!"
"Don't worry, kid," Peggy said.
Lonny relaxed a little. He watched Peggy's tits bounce as she walked over to the bedroom door. "Where's Tim?" he asked Amelia.
"I don't know," she said. "I think he went in there. Tim?" she called.
"Don't see him," Peggy said. "He must have jumped out the window."
"My goodness," said Amelia.
"Holy cow," said Lonny.
"What was that crash?" Amelia asked. "Did he fall down?"
Peggy said, "Uh-huh. I guess I scared him. He tried to run with his pants around his ankles. Wham, down he went. Flat on his face."
"My goodness," Amelia said.
Lonny couldn't restrain a chuckle. "He did the same thing yesterday," he said.
While Lonny was explaining what happened on the balcony yesterday, Amelia spotted Tim under the bed, and after they had all finished laughing at Lonny's story she said, "Come on out, Tim. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come and meet my daughter."
Tim wanted to ask somebody to throw him his pants but he was too embarrassed. He cringed further under the bed.
"Hey, Tim," Peggy called. "If you'll come out I'll let you look at my pussy again."
That made Tim start trembling. His face burned like he had a fever.
"Peggy, please," Amelia scolded softly, getting up from the sofa.
Peggy laughed and pulled her T-shirt off over her head.
Lonny blinked at her tits.
"What are you doing?" Amelia asked. She was getting irritated at Peggy for interrupting her fun.
"Come here a minute," Peggy said, and Amelia followed her over to the kitchen. In a low voice the girl explained quickly what had happened downstairs. "So I got a hot date in the bathroom in a few minutes," she concluded, winking at Lonny as she stepped out of her cutoffs.
They both returned to the living room. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Lonny stared at Peggy's naked body. She didn't seem to mind a bit, nor did she appear the least bit self-conscious as she skipped over to the closet beside the sofa to grab a towel and washcloth.
"Well, keep it quiet in there, dear," Amelia said, settling into her former position on the sofa. "We're going to be busy too."
She looked down and saw that Lonny's prick, which had wilted at Peggy's arrival, had fully recovered and was vibrating like a tuning fork.
"Aren't we, sugar?" she said to him, tickling his balls with her forefinger.
Lonny just sat there with his legs spread and his mouth open, staring at the jiggling cheeks of Peggy's bare ass until it disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Then he looked at Amelia and said, "Huh?"
By this time Mrs. Prescott's fear and trembling had subsided into smoldering rage, which was her normal state of mind. She got up and stormed quietly around the apartment for a while, fiercely putting everything in immaculate order as she did every day after her nap.
Then she went to the door and stuck her head out. Something was not right. Some evil was afoot. She looked up the corridor and down the corridor. No one was in sight. But as soon as she stepped out and started to tiptoe across to the widow Frick's door Ned came charging up the stairs like a freight train and nearly ran her down.
"Eek!" she shrieked.
"Whoa!" cried Ned.
It was like one of those Roadrunner cartoons, with Ned playing the part of the Roadrunner and Mrs. Prescott starring as the Coyote. As a matter-of-fact she did resemble a coyote somewhat. Especially around the eyes and nose.
"Watch where you're going, young man!"
"Uh-sorry, Miss Prescott. I-uh-"
"Where you goin' in such a hurry anyhow?"
"Where?" Ned said. "Well, uh, I was just, uh-"
"You ain't fergettin' about the supper at the church tonight, are ye?"
"Uh-supper at the...? Oh! Yeah! The supper at the church! Gosh no, Mizz Prescott, I wouldn't forget that. Th-that's why I'm in such a hurry!"
The old lady tried to tell him that something was going on up there, she could feel it in her bones, but Ned said he had to hustle or he'd be late for the supper and dashed into his apartment before she had a chance to get it out.
This encounter confused Mrs. Prescott and she shuffled back into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.
To tell the truth, Ned had forgotten all about the supper at the church until Mrs. Prescott mentioned it. All he had been thinking of for the last hour was the fun he was going to have with that little nympho upstairs as soon as he closed up the store. This of course was why he had come zooming up the stairs like the Roadrunner.
But now he began to reconsider his plan, which after a moment of sober reflection he realized was stupid. Worse than that, it could be disastrous if he went through with it. In the first place, there was no time, Amy Jean would be here in a few minutes. And wouldn't that be the cat's ass, if she caught him in bed with little Peggy! In the second place, how could they do anything with the girl's mama right there in the next room, wide awake, probably fixing supper. In the third place, there was that goddamn hound-wolf or whatever it was. Probably it was attack-trained and would tear the balls off of any man who so much as breathed hard in the girl's presence. No, they would have to plan this carefully, figure out just the right time and place to get it on. And in the fourth place, Tim and Lonny would be getting in the way, and....
Where the hell are those kids, anyway? he thought as he hurriedly stripped off his clothes, flinging them in all directions. They ain't gonna be ready when Amy Jean gets here, I can see that.
He grabbed a towel, stormed into the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Oh!-uh-'scuse me-I-I didn't know-"
"Shhhh."
Startled at finding Peggy in the bathtub, Ned had covered his privates with the towel and started to back out the door. "Come on in," Peggy whispered. "I've been waiting for you."
She was stretched out in a few inches of warm water. Her arms floated at her sides and she had one knee up, her smooth golden thighs parted, so that Ned had a perfect view of her plump-cheeked black-fringed pussy, not to mention her full round stiff-nippled titties.
"Hey, now, uh, listen," Ned began in a whisper, "I can't, uh ... I mean, we can't, uh ... Jesus Malone."
Ned had had a hard-on from the moment he saw Peggy at the end of the counter earlier that afternoon until he ran into old lady Prescott a few minutes ago. All the time he'd had the hard-on he had nothing on his mind except fucking the widow's little girl as soon as he got off work. But Mrs. Prescott had made it go soft on him, and that was what had brought him to his senses and made him realize the dangers involved in pursuing such a rash course. But now his hard-on was back, making a sort of tent out of the towel he had draped over it, and all that prudent advice he had given himself about waiting for the right time and the right place vanished from his mind like a fart from a wind tunnel.
"Lock your door," Peggy whispered. "Mine's locked already."
Ned did what she said. "Don't be bashful, lover."
"Huh?" Ned grunted.
Peggy nodded at the towel. "I've seen it already, remember?"
"Oh." Ned grinned and threw the towel away. His big red-headed cock was as thick as Peggy's arm and it swooped out and up from the base of his hard flat belly like a whaleboat. "Yeah, I remember," he said.
Peggy reached out and grabbed it around the neck, as if it were a handle, and pulled Ned closer to the tub. Then she sat up, cradled the long throbbing thing gently in both hands, tickling his fuzzy purple balls with her fingertips, opened her innocent little rosebud mouth and slipped her full, moist lips over that great, hot, oozing cockhead.
"Mmmmmm," she purred.
"Oh, Lord," Ned groaned, running his fingers into her soft black hair and gripping her head between his big powerful hands....
It was about this time that Amy Jean got off work and started down the sidewalk toward Prescott Hardware. Some boys drove by and whistled at her.
Sin is everywhere, Amy Jean thought, checking the reflected profile of her tits in the plate glass window to her right.
She drew her shoulders back a wee bit and hurried on.
From his position under the bed Tim could see one end of the sofa out in the living room. But all he could see was Lonny's head rolling around on the armrest. He knew what was happening, though, and the thought of it made him fierce with anger and shame. As far as he could see, there was no way to overcome his humiliation. There was only one thing to do: run away from home and never come back.
He slipped out from under the bed and went over to the window. It would be an easy matter to jump down onto the roof of the Speedball supermarket. He didn't know exactly how he would get from the roof of the Speedball market to the ground, but he would worry about that problem when he got to it.
But as he was unhooking the window screen he looked back and noticed that he could see more of the sofa from that angle. Now he could see Lonny's skinny legs sticking up and Amelia's head bobbing up and down between them.
Tim looked down at the roof of the Speedball market. Then he looked back at Amelia sucking off his little brother. Then he walked over to the door and had a better look.
His prick lifted its head. It went jerk, jerk, jerk and was standing straight out, stiff as a stick.
Amelia's lips were pursed snugly around Lonny's pecker, sliding up and down it from root to head. Her big ass wiggled as she sucked, and her tits jiggled and swung, bumping against Lonny's legs. And all the while she played with his ass and his nuts with her hands, which were free because she was on her knees and elbows.
Every now and then she would stop sucking and lick for a while, making little grunting and cooing noises. Lonny's skinny little chest was heaving up and down like a pair of bellows. He was making noises too.
Jerk, jerk, jerk went Tim's dick, and it got bigger and harder with each jerk. He had remembered what he was about to do when that girl came busting in. And he forgot about jumping down onto the room of the Speedball supermarket.
He looked around the room. The girl was gone. The dog seemed to be asleep. He waited till Amelia went into a round of sucking, her eyes downcast, and then he slipped quickly around to the other end of the sofa.
There was that ass, the long crack and shaggy beard, just like before. He got onto his knees on the sofa, between Amelia's feet, and advanced boldly.
Peter the Great lifted his chin and cocked his head.
"Mm!?" Amelia exclaimed when she felt Tim's hot hands on her hips, and her lips stopped halfway down Lonny's pecker, which was just about to go off.
"Uh, hu, uh!" Lonny grunted, humping his hips and grabbing at Amelia's hair.
"Wait a minute now, honey," Amelia panted. "Let's wait for-" At that moment Tim launched the thrust which he hoped would restore his dignity.
"-TIM!!"
Ned raised his head so that his ears were clear of the water.
"What was that?" he panted.
He was lying on his back in the tub and Peggy was straddling his hips. His big cock was started in her little twat, and he was gripping her around the waist, jogging her gently up and down. The head was already in and that tight juicy little mouth was swallowing more and more of the shaft. Her swollen tits jumped and jiggled with every jog and the hot syrup from her pussy ran down Ned's throbbing cock and all around his balls, which were floating in the warm water.
"What was what?" Peggy gasped. "Don't stop!"
"I thought I heard something."
"I didn't hear anything. Come on, man, fuck me! Oh, fuck me!"
"I'm tryin', baby. Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!"
"Harder!" Peggy moaned. "Push! It'll go in! Push, push!"
"Okay. Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn-!"
"Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah-"
"Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn-!"
"It's goin'!It's goin'!...."
Amy Jean started up the back stairs. She went up pretty fast, her shoes going shick, shick, shick on the wooden steps. If her tits had been made of reinforced concrete they would not have jiggled any less than they did in that steel-boned bra she was wearing. Even her ass, firmly encased in a pantygirdle, was as solid as a rock.
"Wait, sugar," Amelia puffed, slipping one hand out from under Lonny's ass and reaching between her legs.
Tim had made a brave jab, but he had missed her cunt and hit her asshole. It startled him almost as much as it did Amelia. He looked down at his prick, which had bent double upon impact, wondering how he could have missed so large a target.
He saw Amelia's hand come out below his crotch, groping eagerly.
"Ohhh, yes!" she moaned as her fingers touched his balls. Then the fingers had ahold of his prick. "Mmmmm!"-and she guided the head of it into the mass of gooey hair below her asshole.
Tim felt humiliated all over again, but then he remembered that the dog hadn't hit the hole on the first try either. Nor on the second either, nor the third or fourth. She had had to help him too. That made him feel better.
"Ohhh, honey!" Amelia gasped, and Tim felt even better.
His prick was all the way in. In a real cunt! It was all hot and squishy in there, and the walls of the hole wiggled and twitched and clutched at his pecker like a hand full of warm soap suds. At some point in all this wonder he realized he was humping. Fucking. Yes, he had ahold of her big brown hips and was shoving his dick in and out of her shaggy cunt. The shag tickled his belly. Her juice dripped down on his balls. Her cunt made a squishy-squoosh sound, squish when he shoved it in, squoosh when he pulled it out. Fucking. Yes, he was actually fucking her! He felt better and better with each squish.
So did Amelia. This she hadn't expected, especially since the boy had seemed like such a slow starter. And now there he was, banging away back there with hardly any coaching at all. Oh, if only she could make them both cum at the same time, Lonny in her mouth and Tim in her cunt! She started sucking Lonny's cock again-all this time he had been clawing at her hair and jerking his hips and going "Uh, uh, uh!" hardly even noticing his brother-but she forced herself to a slower tempo because she knew the little guy was primed and ready.
Then Tim bent forward and she felt his sweat-wet hands slide up her sides and grab her dangling tits, and she knew she was damn close to coming too.
Ned was getting there too. So was Peggy. Together they had finally managed to work his cock all the way into her pussy, and now he had his hands cupped over her tits and she was riding him like a horse, high in the saddle. His great hard cockhead was banging into her cervix at every stroke, jarring back and forth and Peggy's pussy was foaming and sputtering and they were just having a great time when Amy Jean arrived at Ned's door.
"Ned, it's me," she called, rapping on the door. "Are you decent? I'm comin' in," and she came in.
At that moment Ned shot his first blob of cum into Peggy's pussy.
"Uhn!" Squirt!
Peggy was going, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" in a high-pitched squeak, because she had started cumming a half-dozen strokes earlier, but she heard Amy Jean just the same. She heard her, but her orgasm had such a violent grip on her that she couldn't do anything about it. "Ah-!"
Ned's ears were underwater at the time, so he just kept on grunting and squirting blissfully, unaware of the arrival of the enemy.
Finding the other room unoccupied, and hearing the strange noises emanating from the bathroom, Amy Jean went straight to the bathroom door and rapped on it three times with her fist.
To Ned's submerged ears the raps sounded like gunshots: BANG! BANG! BANG! "Ned, are you in there?! What's going on?!"
Ned came up out of the tub in mid-cum-squirt with Peggy still skewered on his spitting cock. She started to yell help! but Ned slapped his hand over her mouth and caught her before her head struck the floor. She started to yell again when she slid off his prick, but a big gob of cum shot out and hit her in the mouth, so that all that came out was a little choking sound, like "Akh!" and then "Oof!" when she hit the deck.
All this happened during the few seconds it took Ned to cover the distance from the bathtub to the door. The door to Amelia's apartment, that is. Ned didn't have time to think about what might be on the other side of that door, and besides, whatever it was, it couldn't be more terrifying than what was on the other side of the other door, namely, Amy Jean Jones. He snatched the door open and froze in mid-stride. He blinked his eyes and his mouth fell open.
Now we have to go back a few minutes, say to the time Amy Jean was approaching Ned's door. It was about then that Amelia felt Tim tighten up: his little hands gripped her nipples hard, his hips started moving very fast and he began making funny noises in his throat. She knew he was about to come, so she stopped stalling around with Lonny's goober and really started going to town on it. She slid a finger into the crack of his ass, wrapped her tongue around his stiff little pecker and matched her sucking with Tim's fucking.
When Ned flung the bathroom door open Amelia's head was bobbing like a pigeon's and Tim had already started shooting his load up her boiling cunt.
Poor Lonny's orgasm began at the very moment he saw his big brother crouched there in the doorway, gaping at him. It was too late either to stop the orgasm or to enjoy it. At least Tim got to enjoy his first few spasms.
Amelia sensed something had gone wrong, but she just kept on sucking Lonny's squirting cum and milking Tim's with her cunt jaws, which were already flooded with her own cum-cream.
The little boys were both going, "Uh, uh, uh," their pale bodies jerking and their pricks spitting away-and Tim didn't even let go of Amelia's nipples-but their faces were turned toward their big brother and they both had the same expression that he had: wide eyes and open mouths....
BANK! BANG! BANG! "Ned Haskins!" cried Amy Jean. "Are you in there? Tim? Lonny? What's goin' on?! It's time to leave for the church! We're gonna be late! Why don't somebody say somethin'?"
This outburst brought Peggy to her senses somewhat, and she crawled over to the door Amy Jean was pounding on and locked it as quietly as she could.
Amelia was very cool. It was like she'd planned this whole thing. As soon as her cunt stopped spasming she slid her lips from Lonny's prick, rose up on her hands and knees, looked straight at the naked man in the doorway and started shaking her finger at him.
"Don't you say a word, young man!" she whispered sternly. "Unless you want me to tell your fiancee how you took advantage of my fourteen-year-old daughter while she was trying to take a bath."
Ned just stood there blinking at her for a moment.
"Fourteen?!" he whispered at last.
CHAPTER FIVE
That was the beginning of the second phase of the Fricks' stay at Prescott Hardware. It was characterized by what might be called an "open door policy." Because the bathroom doors were never locked any more, and they were usually left open, except when Amy Jean came to see Ned. So that now it was like one big apartment instead of two little ones. Of course they had to be careful about leaving things lying around and about being in the wrong room at the wrong time and stuff like that, Amy Jean and old lady Prescott being a constant threat. But in a way that made it even more fun, leading a secret sex life like that, and everything humped along smoothly until one fateful night about three weeks after Amelia copped Tim and Lonny's cherries.
It was a momentous-we might even say cataclysmic-event in the life of old Sarah Prescott.
The things that were going on that night had become commonplace-though no less enjoyable to the participants-during the past few weeks. Tim and Lonny always slept with Amelia-in her bed, and Peggy always slept with Ned in his bed. Sometimes they would switch around, or have little orgies on the floor or something, but they would always end up eventually in their regular places, and that's where they were about ten o'clock on this particular night.
Tim and Amelia were propped up in bed, side by side, watching TV. They were naked but they had a sheet over them. Amelia had the sheet pulled up under her tits, which bulged out over it, glowing like great blue Easter eggs in the flickery light from the TV tube. She was on Tim's left and she had her right hand under the sheet, playing with his prick and balls. He had fucked her on the living room floor of Peggy and Ned's apartment only two or three hours ago, so he didn't have much of a hard-on yet, but Amelia liked to play with little pricks even if they were soft. The curtain on the window beside the bed was open, and if anybody had been out there on the roof of the Speedball supermarket looking in at this cozy scene they might have thought at first glance that Amelia was pregnant.
This was because Lonny was under the sheet, sitting cross-legged and hunched over between Amelia's wide open thighs. He was playing with her cunt. She had her legs curled around his little bare ass, sort of hugging him up into her crotch with her legs. Amelia loved it when Lonny got under the sheet and played with her like that.
He had carefully and patiently untangled all the snarls in her cunt hair, all the way from the top of her fat hump down to her asshole, and now he smoothed the thick, fluffy shag away from her gash and pulled it open at the top so that her clitoris popped up. Amelia could feel him looking at it. She could feel his hot breath caressing the wet inner folds of her cunt.
"You'd better be careful down there," she said as her pelvis jerked involuntarily, making her tits jiggle like big balloons full of vanilla pudding. "I might come in your face."
"Go ahead," Lonny said.
Tim peeked under the sheet to see what Lonny was doing, then he snuggled closer to Amelia and started feeling her tits, nibbling at the thick brown nipples. There was nothing good on TV anyway.
Lonny slid his left hand into Amelia's slippery fuckhole.
"Oooo," she said, vigorously jacking Tim's dick, which responded by elongating quickly and getting stiff.
Tim took her right tit in both hands, one hand above and the other below with the nipple in the middle, lifted the tit so that the nipple angled up toward the ceiling and covered it with his mouth.
Amelia took his head in her hands, holding his head like he was holding her tit, and sighed happily as he began to suck on her nipple.
By then Lonny had his whole han'd in her cunt. He bunched his fingers together and pushed deeper until he had his arm almost up to the elbow in her. She was all warm and wet and squirmy and squishy in there.
Amelia wiggled a foot under Lonny's behind and poked eagerly at his tight little asshole. He stretched his middle finger and rang the doorbell at the entrance to her womb.
"O-o-o-oh, sssshhhhhh" she whispered ecstatically.
In the other apartment, Peggy laughed.
"What's so funny?" Ned asked, a bit concerned. Because Peggy had been looking at his cock when she laughed. It was more of a giggle, really.
She laughed again and said, "Not this, silly," pressing his big thick dick between her soft palms and kissing it tenderly on the mouth. "I was thinking about something else."
Ned slid his tongue back into her pussy, then pulled it out a moment later and slid it into her asshole. They were naked of course, lying on their sides, head to foot, facing each other with then-heads between each other's legs. Peggy moved Ned's hairy balls out of the way, spread the hard strong cheeks of his butt and pushed her little pointed tongue into his asshole. After they had kissed in this manner for a while Ned pulled his tongue out and said, "What?"
Peggy pulled her tongue out and said, "What what?"
"You said you were thinking about something else," Ned said. "What?"
"Oh," said Peggy. "I was just thinking about that first time we fucked, and wishing I could have seen the expression on Amy Jean's face when she opened the bathroom door.
Ned laughed. It was funny now, but at the time he had been scared shitless....
Amelia had engineered the whole thing. She herded Tim and Lonny into the bathroom, threw their clothes in after them, told Ned to wet their heads so it would look like they had taken a bath, and told him what to say.
Meanwhile Amy Jean was having a conniption. BANG! BANG! BANG! "Ned Haskins, you better answer me or I'll-! Who's in there with you?"
"Nobody!" Ned blurted, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "I-I'm just takin' a bath, Amy Jean. You just, uh, sit down, I'll be out in a minute."
"You better hurry up, we're late already!" Amy Jean snarled. "Why didn't you answer me?"
"Uh-"
"And where's tim and Lonny? I don't see 'em noplace!"
"Uh-They're in here with me, Amy Jean."
"I thought you said there wasn't nobody else in there!"
Amelia rolled her eyes and Peggy put her hand over her mouth.
"Uh-well-I mean," Ned stammered, "n-nobody but them and me. Ain't that right, Tim and Lonny?"
"Huh?" said Tim, who was still in a daze.
But Lonny said, "Y-yeah, th-that's right!
Nobody in here but us, Amy Jean."
"You mean you're all in there takin' a bath together?!"
"Uh
"There wasn't time to take turns," Amelia whispered in his ear.
"Yeah, there wasn't no time to take turns!" Ned yelled.
"Stop yelling," Amy Jean said, "and hurry up!"
It went on like that for a while but Ned and the kids finally got out of there and into their bedrooms to finish dressing. Amy Jean waited in the living room, fuming. She must have decided that she just had to have a look inside that bathroom. Something fishy was going on around here and she was going to find out....
When Ned came out of the bedroom he found Amy Jean standing at the bathroom door. The door was open just a crack and Amy Jean was sort of hunched forward, peeking in.
Ned held his breath, and then the toilet flushed and Amy Jean shut the door. She turned around and leaned back against the wall. Her mouth was open and her eyes looked glazed.
"Amy Jean, what's the matter with you?" Ned asked. "You can't go around peekin' into people's bathrooms. I got neighbors now, and they-"
"I didn't know anybody was in there," Amy Jean said in a strange voice. "And then when I saw what...." She focused her eyes on Ned and walked over to him. "There was a dog in there," she said in a low voice. "It used the toilet."
"It what?"
"Well ... it's embarassing but ... Well, it lifted the seat, and then it hoisted its leg and ... and did number one into the bowl. Then it put the seat down again and sat on it. I mean, it sort of squatted up there ... and did number two."
Ned sort of turned his head to the side and looked at her out of one eye. "And then it got down and flushed the toilet," Amy Jean said.
Ned wanted to ask her if the dog had wiped its ass, but that was not a question you could ask a girl like Amy Jean, so he only said, "Come on, Amy Jean. We're gonna be late for church."
When Ned and Peggy finished laughing about that they went back to slobbering in each other's crotch. But it wasn't long before Peggy had another attack of giggles.
"What now?" Ned gurgled into her pussy. The words came out in bubbles.
Peggy took his balls out of her mouth and said, "I was just thinking about how scared you were when Mother told you I was only fourteen."
"Yeah," Ned chuckled. "And I'd just got through tellin' Amy Jean you were twelve."
Peggy giggled. "When I was sweet fifteen all along," she said.
Ned stopped laughing. "Fifteen?" he said.
Ned was terrific in bed but he was a little dull in the head sometimes. He caught on after a second, however, and they both started laughing harder than ever.
This burst of laughter woke up Mrs. Prescott.
She sat bolt upright in the haystack and Old Blue faded from between her legs like a phantom. The sweet-smelling haystack of her youth became the stark, sterile bedroom of her old age. The dream always ended just when things were getting good.
In the meantime the scene in Amelia's bedroom had been evolving. Lonny no longer had the sheet over him but he was still down there between Amelia's fat, spread-out thighs, deeply engrossed in some serious cuntplay. Tim, however, was no longer lying beside Amelia with her tit in his mouth. He was ... It was a rather odd position.
To begin with, Amelia had slid down so that she wasn't propped up any more. And the pillow was under her shoulders so that her head dangled back, putting her mouth in just about the right position, Tim was on his knees, straddling her upturned face. He was facing the foot of the bed and doubled over, with his fact between her heaving jugs and a hand on each nipple, fucking her in the mouth.
Amelia's body-which, by the way, was beginning to lose its tan-kept twitching and jerking. This was because little Lonny had both arms plunged into her cunt up to the elbows and was sucking on the swollen spike of her clitoris like it was a strawberry sucker. It looked like at any minute he might crawl on in there and vanish forever.
This was what was happening in Amelia's bedroom as Mrs. Prescott crept out into the hall as silently as a vampire stepping from its coffin. They weren't making much noise in there however-there was only an occasional grunt from Amelia when Lonny would bite her clit or make a fist or something like that, and these grunts were well muffled by the chattering roar of submachine guns in the background as Elliot Ness and his boys massacred Fat Freddy and all his hoods. And besides, Mrs. Prescott was certain that the evil laughter she had heard had come not from the widow's apartment but, strangely enough, from the Haskins boys' place.
She stopped in the dark corridor to listen and formulate a plan. Standing there like that in her white floor-length nighty she looked like a cypress snag in a moonlit swamp. A thing which crabs and lizards would like to make their homes in. A few cockroaches appraised her from the baseboards, but she didn't notice. She was thinking.
She remembered how Mr. Billy had been complaining the other day about how sluggish and worn-out Ned had been lately. He kept stumbling over things, Mr. Billy said, and making stupid mistakes. One day Mr. Billy caught him standing in the front of the store, leaning on a broom, sound asleep. But before Mr. Billy could get to him a fat lady came into the store and knocked him down.
"Didn't even wake up till he hit the floor," Mr. Billy had said.
Hmmmmm,, thought Mrs. Prescott, unconsciously clutching at her cunt through the front of her gown. That boy's up to somethin'. Somethin's a-keepin' him awake nights. I can feel it in my bones. Well, she thought as she slipped out onto the upstairs porch and approached Ned's bedroom window in a stealthy, witch-like creep, we'll just see about this!
Ned and Peggy of course were always careful to keep their curtains closed, but old Sarah overcame this difficulty with a simple but effective device: a splinter about six inches long which she snapped off the edge of the PRESCOTTS HARD ON sign. By stabbing this splinter through the window screen at the place where the curtains overlapped in the middle she was able, by using the splinter as a lever, to open up a slit quite adequate to her purpose. Especially since the lovers inside had left a bedside lamp on so they could see what they were doing.
O, sweet heavenly Jesus!
By that time Ned and Peggy had finished clowning around and had just gotten down to some serious oral loveplay. Ned was lying on his back now, with his ass propped up on three pillows, so that his long thick cock looked like it stuck up halfway to the ceiling. That is, it would have looked that way if the end of it hadn't been in Peggy's mouth. She had her shapely little legs spread wide apart and was sort of squatting on Ned's face, wiggling her bare ass around while he lapped and sucked and nibbled and slobbered in her fuzzy little twat.
She couldn't get Ned's cock all the way into her mouth, but she was giving it all she had, up and down, up and down, grunting and sucking and drooling, the whole bit. She was so hot that when she came her cream actually gushed from her pussy and got all over Ned's face. He started to shoot at the same time. She clutched his cock with both hands, pumping it with short fast strokes, clamped her lips around its neck, and gurgled with joy as the thick, hot cum spurted into her mouth, filling her cheeks and wiggling into her throat. She swallowed it eagerly, and this part made Sarah physically ill:
Gulp!
Squirt!
Gulp!
Squirt!
Gulp, gulp! Squirt, squirt! "Mmmmm!" Gulp!....
At least, she told herself that. O, sweet Jesus in heaven she kept saying to herself, I ain't never seen nothin' so sickenin'! It's enough to make any good Christian throw up! That harlot! That abomination before the Lord! With that filthy thing in her mouth ... and a-squattin. right down on that boy's face ... with her filthy thing in his mouth...! Squirt! Gulp! Mmmmmm! "Glglmmm!" Squirt, squirt! "Urn!" Gulp.
But if she was so sickened and repulsed by what she saw, one might ask, why did she keep looking at it? Because it wasn't until after Peggy had gulped the last squirt and rolled over on her back that Sarah finally retracted her splinter and stepped back from the window.
It was then she discovered that evil spirits were afoot. They had lifted her nightgown up to her waist, pried her knees apart and placed her right hand between her legs.
Oh, Lord, protect me! she prayed, gazing in horror at the gooey stuff in her bony old hand, gleaming in the yellow light from the window. Her middle finger was completely coated with the stuff. Save me from these here evil spirits!
She wiped her hand on the hem of her nightgown, dropped the skirt and hurried back into the corridor. Mr. Billy was downstairs working late on his books. She would go straight down there and tell them that-! Well, she would demand that he kick that abomination and her mother and that there dog out of this here house right now! Tonight! And she herself would see that the police knew just exactly what kind of people they ... She had just passed the widow's room. Sarah stopped and looked back. She thought she heard something from in there. A squeak? A bump? She crept back to the door and stood there looking at it for a minute.
Creak ... creak ... creak....
Sarah cocked her head and frowned at the doorknob. Just beneath the doorknob was the keyhole....
Fat Freddy and his hoods would never again bring a shipment of illegal booze into Chicago, or at least not until they reran this particular rerun, and Channel Four had said its prayers for the night, leaving nothing behind but white sound: a fog full of electronic crickets. As background noise these crickets were all right. But as a sound screen for the erotic activities of Amelia Frick and her two young lovers they were nowhere near as effective as the tommyguns of the Untouchables and the shotguns of Fat Freddy and his torpedoes.
Another condition unfavorable to the secrecy of these activities was this: Amelia's bed was visible from the front door of her apartment when her bedroom door was open, as it was tonight.
These two conditions combined to leave our heroine and her little playmates as unprotected as if they had used Another Leading deodorant. Of course they were unaware of this and continued their little games in the bliss of ignorance.
Tim was still astraddle Amelia's face in that curious pseudo-pushup position, a hand on each tit, vigorously fucking her in the mouth. His hard, hairless little balls bounced up and down on her nose and he slobbered between her boobs with such delightful abandon that rivers of warm spit ran down her sides and even into her armpits. She was having a great time sucking that sweet stiff little prick and jerking her big ass in time with the rapid slurps of Lonny's tongue against her erect clitoris.
Lonny had become a damn good cunt-lapper for having been at it such a short time. But then, Amelia was a damn good teacher. The little fellow had one hand in the hot, foaming bore of her cunt, the thumb of his other hand hooked into her clutching asshole and was lapping that twitching clit for all he was worth. He liked to get her all like that and then stick his dick in her at the last minute, just as she was starting to cum, because it never took Lonny very long to get his nuts off. He liked to shoot into all that hot frothy goop that came out of her cunt when she came.
This moment was approaching rapidly. But Amelia wanted to draw it out just a little. She dearly loved little boys' tongues and lips and pricks and balls, but sometimes she thought she loved their little assholes more than all the rest. She got that feeling most strongly whenever she was able to get a good look at one, and tonight, with Tim practically sitting on her face, was just such an occasion. So she slid her hands up the boy's thighs to the smooth, hot cheeks of his butt and slipped her lips from his prick.
It was at this moment that Sarah Prescott dropped to her bony knees before the front door of Amelia's apartment. She got her fierce, beady, hawk-like eye positioned at the keyhole just in time to see the buxom widow drive her tongue straight into poor young Tim Haskins' asshole.
Sweet Lord Jesus in heaven, Sarah thought, and she almost fainted.
Almost, but not quite.
Oh, horrors, horrors! she thought, clutching at the doorknob for support. It ain't fit for human eyes to see! Just look at 'em! Plum neked, the lot of 'em! Look, Lord! Look at that fat witch! See what she's a-doin'? Strike her down, Lord! Strike her down!....
But as horrified as she was, old Sarah stayed there on her knees with her eye glued to the keyhole. Apparently the evil spirits were still at it, because her gown was up around her hips again and her claw-like hand was between her legs. And the harder she prayed for the Lord to bring down fiery vengeance on the unsuspecting heads of the sinners, the faster her hand moved. It went up and down and around in circles and pretty soon a sloppy squishing noise began to emanate from her crotch. This was the sound that alerted Peter the Great, who had been dozing near the door.
Amelia and Tim and Lonny were of course oblivious to all this. They went on tonguing and sucking and humping and fucking until their imminent orgasms were like overfilled mountain lakes in West Virginia, ready to burst their gob dams and flood the valleys below.
Amelia started to cum first and as soon as the gushing spasms began Lonny put his prick where his mouth had been, humped hard and fast about a dozen times-with Amelia's heavy legs draped over his skinny shoulders-and-SPURT!-pumped his cum into her erupting cunt: "Uhn!"-spurt-"Uhn!"-spurt-"Uhn!"-spurt!
Tim's first shot splashed onto Amelia's neck and the next hit her between the tits. Then she jerked her tongue out of his asshole, caught his spitting dick between her drooling lips and took the rest of his load in her mouth, sucking and swallowing like the she-wolf fiend from hell that Mrs. Prescott thought she was.
The eye of the Lord God is on y'all! Sarah thought, frantically fingering her old twat. He's a-watchin'! He's a-watchin' everthing!
Peter the Great was on his feet now. He had been standing there, to one side of the door, peering curiously at it, turning his long pointy head first this way and then that, to one side and then the other side. Finally, as the lovers' orgasms subsided in a series of exhausted sighs and breathless exclamations of contentment, Peter stepped up to the keyhole to have a look.
At this moment Sarah was in the midst of ... something. Perhaps it was an orgasm, perhaps a mild heart attack, possibly an epileptic fit. Whatever it was, it seemed to originate in her crotch. As violent as this seizure was, however, it had not succeeded in dislodging her gaze from that hellish orgy inside the apartment.
She was thinking: The eye of the Lord God! It's a-lookin! It's a-watchin'! It's a-.' when suddenly she found herself peering into a horrible, big, brown, inhuman eye with hair all around it.
It was probably at that very instant that Sarah lost consciousness-or, more accurately, that her mental hold on this world was temporarily wrenched from her grasp. It must have been reflex action, triggered by the shock, that launched her up and backwards, all the way across the corridor, and slammed her into the opposite wall, where she crumbled to the floor like a bundle of dry sticks. Because that hairy eye was the last thing she remembered until she felt Old Blue's hot breath between her legs.
CHAPTER SIX
"My goodness," Amelia gurgled, swallowing her mouthful of cum. "What was that?"
And in the other apartment, at the same moment:
"Holy shit!" Peggy whispered, peering up at Ned over the curve of his sleeping cock.
Ned whispered, "Come on!" and when they had got untangled they ran to the front door and peeked out.
Amelia and the kids and Peter the Great were already standing over the fallen body of old lady Prescott. Peggy and Ned hurriedly joined the group and they all started talking at once in panic-stricken whispers. Because it was obvious what had happened: Mrs. Prescott, that terrible rock of the church, had seen all.
If the old girl had come to at this time and seen herself surrounded by all those jabbering nudes she would have thought for sure that she had died and gone to hell. Even Cereberus, the hound of hell, was there. Luckily, however, she didn't come to, and fortunately for the sinners there was still one cool head among them: Amelia's.
"Now just calm down, everybody," she said, "and listen to me. This lady is human just like the rest of us, and that means she's got a weak spot. She reminds me of a preacher I used to know. His weakness was-"
"Mother, please!" Peggy whispered. "We don't have time to listen to that story about the preacher. We better get our shit together and split before the bitch wakes up and-"
"Now, just hold on," Amelia said calmly. "The point is, once you've found the weak spot in one of these people, all you have to do is apply pressure to that spot and you've got them."
"Okay, okay," Ned said. "S'posin' that's true, how we s'pose to find out where Mizz Sarah's weak spot is? I think Peggy's right. We best just all pack up and-"
"I think I know where it is," Amelia said.
"Where?" they all asked at once.
Peter the Great was sniffing under Mrs. Prescott's nightgown. "I think Peter knows already," Amelia chuckled, and she bent over and pulled the long gown up to the old lady's ass, exposing her gray-haired snatch. It looked like a rat's nest. Amelia ran her forefinger along the loose-lipped, half-open gash and then brought the finger up to her nose. Sniff. "Well, well," she said with a smile, sticking her finger under Ned's nose. "Take a whiff of that."
"Goddamn," Ned muttered, closing his eyes and staggering backward.
Amelia ignored him. "I'd say she was at that keyhole for quite a while," she said. "And it's pretty obvious what she was doing while she was watching us." She picked up Mrs. Prescott's left hand, sniffed of the middle finger, and held it up for Ned to smell. But this time he just backed away and said no thanks, he'd take her word for it.
"Gosh," Lonny said. "I never thought old lady Prescott ran around without no drawers on."
"Okay, so the old bitch jacks off," Peggy said. "How's that gonna help us?"
Amelia grinned. "The jacking off, and the fact that she was peeping at us when she could have been telling her husband or calling the cops-that's just a bonus. I was talking about something else. Peggy, haven't you noticed the way she looks at Peter every time she-"
"Her husband!" Ned gasped. "Mr. Billy's downstairs, workin' on the books! He'll be comin' up here and-"
"Relax," Amelia said, putting her hand over his mouth. "That's the easy part. Peggy can handle that, I'm quite sure."
"Me?" Peggy said, and then: "Oh, I get it."
"Huh?" said Ned, and then: "Now, wait a minute. Wait just a goddamn minute!"
"Hush," Amelia scolded. "The old man's no problem. This one is the problem"-she pointed down at Sarah-"and it's going to be a little tricky, so let's stop farting around. Come on, let's get her into her bedroom."
While they were dragging poor Sarah's body into her apartment, undressing it and arranging it on the bed, Amelia explained that ever since she and Peggy had arrived, the landlady had been giving Peter the Great the eye. There was something about her that changed, softened, whenever she looked at the dog, and this led Amelia to the conclusion that dogs were the old girl's weak spot. Peter the Great, she said, was just the one who knew how to apply the pressure, too.
The others thought it was insane, but any plan was better than no plan, they guessed, so they set it all up according to Amelia's instructions and got the hell out of there.
Back in Amelia's apartment, Peggy dashed into the bedroom to get ready for her part of the scheme. In spite of Amelia's confidence, the Haskins boys hurriedly got into their street clothes, ready to make a run for it if necessary. After a minute Peggy came out of the bedroom wearing a shorty nightgown of white see-through nylon with baby-blue lace around the ruffled hem, the deep swooping neckline and puffy little sleeves. Her golden-brown nipples and crow-black pussy hair showed through with breathtaking clarity. She was the very epitome of the archetypal child-whore whose image wiggles in the secret longings of the purest of men like a worm in the heart of an apple.
"Wow," said Tim and Lonny.
"Perfect," Amelia said. "Goddamn it," Ned whined, "I don't like it. And anyway it ain't gonna work. Mr. Billy's too hold for that shit."
Amelia laughed. "Honey, sometimes they don't get hard, but they always get fat."
"Huh?" said Ned.
"She means he might be too old to do it," Peggy said, "but not to want it. Right, Mother?"
"Right. Get going now," Amelia said, giving her daughter a slap on her round little butt.
Meanwhile, Sarah Prescott was dreaming again about the great sin of her girlhood, which had haunted her sleep for forty-six years. This time it was a nightmare. A huge spider, as big as a house, had been chasing her through the hills, throwing out long streamers of sticky silk which brushed her legs and the bare cheeks of her bouncing ass. The spider was actually a gigantic eyeball and its legs were the optic nerves, and lightning flashed out of the bottomless black of its pupil, and the bolts shattered on the rocks all around her like splinters of electric glass. It was horrible, but she was safe now.
Safe in the barn. Stretched out on the hay in the stall in the corner. She put her hands on her firm young tits and sighed a deep sigh of voluptuous contentment, spreading her smooth, curvy legs to receive her lover.
He was in the barn ... He was in the stall. She could feel his hot breath fluttering the soft curls of her eager cunt. Good Ol' Blue. You could always count on him in a pinch. She uncovered her pink-tipped tits and slid her hands down over the smooth, flat curve of her naked belly and the prominent rise of her fuzzy hump until her fingers touched Ol' Blue's hairy snout.
"There y'are, sugah love," she cooed without opening her eyes. "Mmmmm. Want some honey?"
She bent her knees in order to open her thighs as wide as possible, her legs spread out on each side like a frog's, and getting a grip on both of Blue's ears, pulled his muzzle into the parted slit of her red-hot pussy.
Instantly the dog blasted her with a violent snort-
"Oh!"
-and jerked back, as though trying to get his nose out of there, but Sarah held on to his ears, not knowing what else to do, and in a minute the animal seemed to calm down. He even made a few exploratory slurps with his tongue.
This was reassuring to Sarah, but ... well, something was wrong. No, not wrong? just different. For one thing, something had happened to Ol' Blue's ears. They were hairier. And his snout felt longer. And that was the first time he had ever snorted in her cunt. But the strangest thing of all was that ... well, this part of the dream was all in the dark.
"That's because my eyes are shut," Sarah thought.
But every time she started to open them, something stopped her. For some reason she was afraid to open her eyes. It was like if she opened her eyes Ol' Blue wouldn't be there. It was almost like she was awake and just imagining....
No. No, she couldn't possibly be awake because that would mean there was a dog in ... No. And whatever you imagined in your sleep was a dream, wasn't it? It was just that this dream was a little different from the usual one, that was all. The main thing was that she was safe inside the barn, or the dream, where the Eye could not see her. She relaxed and began to wriggle and twist around in her enjoyment of that long wet tongue darting around inside her like a hot, flat snake. But she did not open her eyes.
You know, she doesn't have bad legs," Amelia whispered to Tim and Lonny. "For her age, I mean."
Tim and Lonny were so aghast at the unbelievable spectacle they were actually witnessing with their own eyes that they couldn't reply. But it was true, Sarah Prescott's naked body was not what you would have predicted from the evidence of her clothed form. Oh, her knees weren't without a few wrinkles, and here and there broken veins showed through the yellowish white skin of her calves and thighs like rivers drawn with blue ink on a map of aged parchment, but there was a certain fullness and smoothness in her curves that time had not yet succeeded in wiping out.
Even her tits weren't all that bad. They were small and not her best feature maybe, but ... Well, they look a hell of a lot better than mine are going to look at that age, Amelia thought, conjuring up a grotesquely comic image of herself at sixty-five with her dugs resting on the floor in front of her like a couple of bowling balls that had been dropped into the legs of a pair of white rubber feet-pajamas. Ha ha, Amelia thought with a shudder. Sarah's tits were withered a bit, and somewhat green about the raisin-like nipples, but their inner strength and fullness had not yet dissipated completely.
This was more evident than ever when Peter gave her an unusually deep thrust with his electric eel tongue. She gasped and threw her arms back over her head, arching her back and sucking wind, so that her tits seemed to inflate like little pointed helium balloons that were trying to carry her up to the ceiling. Even the little wrinkles radiating from her dried-up nipples like the rays of a moon crater seemed to smooth out and disappear-at least from where Amelia stood.
The lighting may have had something to do with it too: Amelia had turned on one small lamp on Sarah's dresser and had thrown a blue pillow slip over it, so that the action on the old iron bed was dimly illuminated in a soft blue glow. It was bright enough so that Amelia could see what was going on from the bedroom window, the one that opened on the upstairs porch, and dim enough so that it wouldn't startle poor Sarah into a premature confrontation with reality when she began to regain consciousness.
But light or no light, Amelia now had Sarah pegged. She was one of those women who go through their whole lives with "budding bodies." That was not the case with Amelia and Peggy: they would end up as sloppy old whores rocking on somebody else's porch, surrounded by empty bottles and flies, and with a lifetime of fucking stored in their fat. But Sarah was the type that never quite seemd to get through puberty. Somehow they get detoured halfway through the tunnel and become lost in the mountain for the rest of their lives. In Sarah's case, Amelia surmised, it was probably a pair of fire-breathing Bible-slapping parents and an irreligious dog that fucked her up, leaving her with a twisted mind and the hormone glands of a teenager. And a body that had never quite managed to bloom.
"Gkh, gkh, gkh!" Sarah clucked in a string of explosive gurgles as Peter the Great's amazing tongue sent thousands of canine kilowatts crackling through her frail, shuddering body, and then she cried in a loud, desperate voice: "Come on, Blue! Oh, do it, honey! Give it to me, give it to me! Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"Look!" Amelia whispered, hugging Tim and Lonny against her naked tits.
"Good gosh!" hissed the boys.
Sarah had whipped over onto her belly and jerked her ass up in front of Peter's face so fast that it seemed to startle him for a moment. But the posture of course was familiar to him, and the way she was wiggling her behind at him left no doubt in his mind about what she had in mind. So, after a glance at his mistress in the window, just to make sure it was all right, he proceeded to mount up.
In a swift, spiralling caress, Amelia slid her hands down Tim and Lonny's sides to their round, bare bottoms and between their legs, gave their hard little balls a quick gentle squeeze and backed out from between them.
"That's my cue," she whispered. "You guys know what to do now, right?"
The boys nodded their heads rapidly without taking their unbelieving eyes off Peter the Great and old lady Prescott. Their mouths gaped open and they both had hard-ons in spite of their recent purge.
"Don't forget to hold the camera where she can see it," Amelia whispered, and she was gone.
As Sarah felt the strong, hairy legs grip her around the waist, the big paws crossing under her belly, the shaggy knees brushing the backs of her thighs, a certain part of her held its breath. Actually she was breathing very hard, panting passionately, but that other part of her was absolutely motionless, tense with an anxiety closely resembling fear.
Because something was wrong. That is, different. Ol' Blue seemed to have grown and ... and gotten hairier. But that wasn't all of it. There was something else that-
"Oh!" The dog was humping: "Gruh! gruh! gruh!-whump, whump, whump! against her ass, driving her so far forward that her head started bumping against the iron bedstead, and it felt like he was poking her in the crotch with the point of a steam iron.
"Whoa, Blue!" she screeched hoarsely, suctioning her head with her forearm. And with her other hand she reached back between her legs to help him find the hole.
"Oh, Lord," she thought aloud.
The thing she had ahold of felt like a railroad spike made out of raw meat that had been hardened in a fire but had not cooked. That other part of her continued its breathless pause, more tense and apprehensive than ever, but the panting, slobbering, grunting, twitching part of her proceed instinctively to insert that diabolical member into her inflamed cunt.
"Gruh! gruh! gruh!" grunted Ol' Blue, and he really socked it to her: whump, whump, whump-!"
"-Uh-uh-oh-oh-ah-ah-god-damn! Uh-oh-oo-ah-ah! Uh-uh-!" and suddenly it hit her.
It was too real. A voice spoke like a thunderclap in her head:
This here ain't no dream!
The part of her that had been holding its breath was the part of her that was awake. It spoke again: Whatever you do, Sarah, don't open your eyes!
And from some embattled limbo between the unspeakable ecstasy that was happening between her streaming thighs and the unholy horror that was devouring her soul, the thought, I'm bein' diddled by the Devil!
Then another voice: "Peter? Peter, where are you, honey?"
And then Sarah heard her bedroom door creak open and without meaning to she opened her eyes.
Amelia, dressed in her black and chartreuse negligee, was leaning into the room. "Peter-? Oh, there you are!"
"You-you-!" Sarah stammered, choking and wheezing, and then she remembered the warning and quickly shut her eyes, but it was too late, the dream was gone. This was real. Sweet Lord Jesus in heaven.
Peter the Great stopped humping and looked at Amelia, apparently a little confused. She signaled him to stay where he was, and he obeyed: when Sarah began struggling to get away, she was unable to get out of his embrace. Maybe she didn't try too hard.
"Oh, excuse me!" Amelia said to Sarah, going over to the bed. "I didn't mean to interrupt, really. I was just trying to find Peter. He wasn't in the apartment and I thought maybe ... Oh, listen to me carry on," she said with a mischievous chuckle.
Putting one hand on Peter's shoulder and giving Sarah's trembling hand a tender little squeeze with the other, Amelia told her that she understood and hurried back to the door. She winked and in a confidential whisper said, "Just send him back in the morning, dear."
Sarah continued to stare at the door for a while after the widow had gone. Even though she had been speechless, naked and helpless in the locked arms of Peter the Great during the whole time Amelia had been there, she had somehow managed to get her bearings and realize that she was the victim of some kind of trap. She remembered what she had seen in the other apartments and saw that they were trying to turn the tables on her.
Well, it ain't a-going to work, she thought in that secret part of her mind that she thought God didn't know about. It'll be my word against hers, and they ain't nobody a-going to believe that harlot of a widder agin the word of Sarah Prescott.
As for the unfinished business at hand ... well, this hellish beast had attacked and overpowered her, hadn't it? God was her witness to that. The animal had taken advantage of her unconscious condition and violated her in her sleep. What could a halpless old woman do against the savage force of such a brute?
"Come on, dog!" she whispered, giving her ass a swift backward jerk which the Lord would interpret as an impatient action on the animal's part.
Peter the Great got the message and immediately resumed humping: "Gruh! gruh! gruh!-"
"Oh-oh-oh-"
That red-hot cock hammered into her time-saddened old cunt like a pneumatic drill totally wiped out all her conniving and scheming and excuse-making. And the first volley of exploding cum-bombs that shot out of that flaming bazooka burned out everything that had happened between her secret meeting with Ol' Blue in the barn and the present explosion, leaving nothing but a smoking smudge pot filled with the stale fumes of a wasted life. But in the bottom of the pot was a little pinch of fine black soot, the residue of the indescribable bliss of uninhibited animal lust, and it seemed to Sarah that that was the only thing worth saving out of all those dreary years.
"Ahhhhhhhh," she sighed contentedly, and her euphoric amnesia lasted until Peter relaxed his grip on her and tugged his dick out of her cunt.
In a sudden rush it all came back to her, and she began hurriedly to reorganize her thoughts as to how she was going to bring ruin and damnation down on the widow Frick and her slut of a daughter. Almost at the same moment she looked up and saw Tim and Lonny Haskins out there on the upstairs porch, looking at her through the window. Tim had a camera hanging around his neck.
Sweet Lord Jesus, Sarah thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Instead of going back out to join Tim and Lonny after she left Sarah's room, Amelia went to see how things were progressing downstairs. Ned had had the same idea.
There was a landing halfway down the inside staircase where the stairs doglegged to go on down into the back room of the store. Directly beneath that landing is where Mr. Billy had his old desk, and you could look down through the cracks between the boards into his little "office." That was where Amelia found Ned, on his hands and knees on the landing, his forehead resting on the boards, peering down through a crack. He was still naked.
Amelia took off her negligee, got down on her all-fours beside him and put her eye to the crack. Peggy's little white nighty with the baby-blue lace was scattered in several pieces around the office. Apparently Mr. Billy had ripped it to shreds, although there was nothing violent about the present scene: Mr. Billy was reclining peacefully in his swivel chair and Peggy was down on the floor between his legs, busily sucking him off.
That's my baby, Amelia thought proudly, running a hand up between Ned's legs and stroking his hairy balls with her fingertips.
It had been easy.
Peggy had found Mr. Billy hunched over his ledgers, so absorbed in making stiff, neat, black little numbers in the ruled columns with an ancient fountain pen that he didn't even notice her standing there beside his desk until she said, "Hi, Mr. Billy."
The old man had given a little jump, looked up at her and stopped chewing his tobacco. He took off his glasses, blinked, and then put the glasses back on.
"Lord God," he said.
Peggy laughed softly and perched on the corner of the desk, her thighs parted so that Mr. Billy could see her pussy underneath the blue lace hem of her nighty. "I couldn't get to sleep," she said in her superseductive little-girl voice, "so I thought I'd come down here for a while. You poor thing, you shouldn't be working so late."
Mr. Billy continued to stare at her for a minute. Then he took the plug of tobacco out of his mouth, put it in a side drawer of the desk, wiped his mouth and said, "I reckon you're right."
Then he closed his ledger book, put his pen and inkwell away, and ripped Peggy's nightgown to shreds. That happened just before Ned arrived overhead. If he had seen it he would not have believed it. Apparently there was more to old Mr. Billy Prescott than met the eye.
Peggy just sat there and let him do it, delighted at his unexpected aggressiveness. When he had snatched the last scrap of blue lace from her ripe young body and sent it fluttering into the shadows, she smiled and said, "Far out."
"I'll buy you another one," Mr. Billy said a little sheepishly, as though he didn't know what had come over him.
"Fuck it," Peggy said. "I've got lots of those."
She moved over in front of him on the desk, her ass on the blotter and her feet on the arms of his chair, in which he was still sitting, and after placing his hands on her tits she started unbuckling the straps of his overalls.
Mr. Billy's response to Peggy's seduction was indeed surprising, but the biggest surprise was between his legs.
"Holy shit!" Peggy exclaimed as it sprang out at her.
Except for Ned's and a couple of horses', Peggy hadn't seen a cock that big in a year or so. She wondered if everybody in Arkansas was hung like that. And Amelia's bit about old men's dicks getting fat but not hard did not apply in Mr. Billy Prescott's case. Peggy put her hands around it just to make sure, and found it as solid as a piece of granite. That's about what it looked like too: a stone monument which some extinct civilization had erected a thousand years ago and abandoned to the wind and weather. The wilderness had ridden it, the world forgot it. It was scored with mysterious scars, studded with warts, fluted with great blue veins, gnarled like a solitary ancient pine clinging to the face of a cliff. All it needed was a little moss.
Peggy skinned it back and milked it down several times to get rid of the cheese. Then she put Mr. Billy's old cracked hands on the cheeks of her ass, rubbed her tits in his face, and slithered to her knees on the floor between his heavy boots, around which his overalls lay crumpled in a denim puddle that smelled like death. He was still wearing his undershirt and his glasses, but the glasses began to slide down his bony red nose in little bumps and jumps as soon as Peggy started sucking his cock.
"Um, um, um...."
"She looks like she's enjoyin' that!" Ned whispered in Amelia's ear.
"Why not?" Amelia whispered with a shrug, lifting Ned's left knee so she could get her ass between his legs. She was lying on her belly on the landing, and now Ned was sitting astraddle her big bare ass, doubled over so he could peek down through the crack. Amelia was looking through the crack too. She reached back with one hand and, using his cock as a handle, moved him backward a little, at the same time hitching her ass up and forward.
Bending over her back and taking her big hot tits in his hands, Ned put his lips to her ear again and said, "Why not!? Didn't you see that cheese?"
"You'd better not watch," Amelia whispered, guiding the head of his throbbing cock into her shaggy slot. "A little lower, honey."
Ned corrected his position and his prick slipped smoothly into Amelia's cunt, but even as he started fucking her he kept his eyes on his boss and his mistress. So did Amelia.
Peggy didn't suck Mr. Billy all the way off. When she felt that antique cannon was about to go off she got to her feet and pulled Mr. Billy up too.
"Here," she said, turning him around. "Lay back on the desk."
The old man let her guide him. His knees were trembling so violently it felt like an earthquake. He seemed unable to either resist or assist the efforts of the lovely little nymph, this elemental spirit of lust, this lascivious apparition who had emanated from the dusty shadows of his almost forgotten need. It was his conviction that she was not real. But when the spook nighty ripped just the same as a real one would, his certainty was shaken, and it was as if with that one violent act he had spent his entire will and was now just a puppet in the hands of the young witch.
But a puppet with a hard-on.
When she had him laid out on his back, lengthwise on the desk, Ned was afraid that Mr. Billy would see them up there and he stopped humping in midstroke. His fear was unfounded. As far as Mr. Billy was concerned the rest of the world had vanished, leaving behind only this one luminous girl, the last visible object. Amelia, who was aware of this, wiggled her ass impatiently and after a minute Ned resumed his somewhat absent-minded humping: in, out. In. Out, in-out, in-out, in-out, in ... out. In, out. In-out, In-out-in-out-in-out! In ... out, in. Out, in. Out, in, and like that, depending on what was going on downstairs, as if he were a violinist in an orchestra and Peggy was the conductor. But Amelia didn't care. It felt nice to her, absent-minded or not. Of course she preferred little boy, but a man-sized cock was all right once in a while.
After she had gotten Mr. Billy's overalls freed from his big boots, Peggy had gotten up on the desk with both feet and stood over the old man's monumental battering ram, which was standing straight up out of his tangle of gray bellyfuzz, its drooling slit of an eye staring hungrily at Peggy's fuzzy, wet-lipped little pussy. She tossed her head, her long black hair fanning and whipping up the shadows cast by the single bare bulb in the corner, shook her tits, jerked her cunt, wiggled her ass, did some bumps and grinds, fingered herself, painted her nipples with pussy juice and then sucked the finger, and all sorts of stuff like that until the old man's trembling hands rose up from his sides like a couple of cobras charmed by flute music and went slithering up the girl's golden legs.
That was when she squatted down above his crotch, and with one hand held out to her side for balance and gripping Mr. Billy's dick around the neck with the other, she started the big blunt-headed thing into her hole.
"Oh, wow! ... Mmmm! ... It's going...." She started bouncing up and down: "Oo, oo, oo, oo.
It's going! See? Mm, mm, mm, mm! Goddamn. Ah, ah, ah, ah! Oh ... it's ... oh, shit ... mm ... it's...." Bounce, bounce. "It's in!"
That was just the head, of course. But after that it was easy. Peggy was tight but she was deep. She didn't have nearly the trouble getting that cock into her that she would have had if she hadn't been fucking Ned for the past few weeks. That had loosened her up some.
"Lord God," said Mr. Billy, and he pumped about a gallon of white, thick, squirmy cum into little Peggy's insides. Long after Ned and Amelia had had their orgasms and mopped their crotches with Amelia's negligee, Mr. Billy was still coming: "Uhg ... uhg ... uhg ... uhg...."
When it was over Amelia and Ned had to go down and carry Peggy upstairs to bed. Then they got Tim and Lonny and went back for Mr. Billy. It took all four of them to get him up the stairs.
Nobody saw very much of Sarah Prescott for about three months after that, not even Mr. Billy. Because not only did she never come out of the apartment any more, but Mr. Billy said she only came out of her bedroom long enough to fix his meals. She even stopped going to the church, even ojj Sundays, which made people think she had died and that Mr. Billy was concealing the body.
Mr. Billy was having a hard enough time concealing his own body, especially with all those goddamned Christians all the time snooping around, asking about poor Sarah and darting suspicious glances at young Peggy Frick, who would sometimes be lounging on top of the feed sacks, smoking cigarettes and showing off too much of her body. Usually Mr. Billy would just grunt at them and shuffle off like a sleepwalker. The Christians thought he was catching whatever Sarah had. In a sense that was true-although one had caught a dog and the other a girl-but Mr. Billy didn't know it. He thought Sarah really was sick, and he knew nothing of her clandestine affair with Peter the Great. And of course Sarah didn't know anything about him and Peggy either, although she knew about all the other stuff going on in the house: Peggy and Ned and Amelia and the kiddies. Which is what scared Tim and Lonny at first. Amelia tried to explain it to them.
"Look," she said, kissing Lonny on the head of his dick, "Sarah's not going to say anything to anybody. Because she's afraid if she does I'll show those pictures to Mr. Billy, or maybe send them to the preacher or something like that."
Tim pulled his tongue out of Peggy's asshole and said, "But there ain't no pictures. There wasn't even no film in that camera."
"She doesn't know that," Amelia said. She skinned Lonny's prick back with her fingertips and started sucking on the tip of it like it was a soda straw.
"Blub oo cuddle uff," Ned began. Then he took his mouth from Peggy's pussy and tried again:
"But you couldn't have took no picture without a flashbulb even if you had of had a film in there, and Mizz Sarah knows damn good'n well she didn't see no flash nor hear no pop."
Amelia stopped sucking long enough to say, "Shit. Sarah doesn't know anything about photography. Stuff like that would never occur to her. And besides, she knows if she rats on us I'll take her playmate away from her." And she called to the bathroom: "Right, Peter?"
"Woof," Peter called back, flushing the toilet.
"Amy Jean's the one that worries me," Ned said, twining the fingers of his left hand into Amelia's cunt hair and the fingers of his right into Peggy's. "We done had some damn close calls already, and if Mr. Billy takes it in his head to tell her 'bout me and Peg ... shit, she'd fuck everthing up."
"Why would he wanta do that, Ned?" Tim asked, pulling his tongue out of Peggy's ass and replacing it with his prick.
"Ooooooo!" Peggy said, clutching her mother's tits.
"Ouch," Amelia muttered around Lonny's dick."
"To knock me outa the picture, that's why," Ned said. "So he'd have Peg all to hisself."
"Shit," Peggy grunted as she slid her pussy down over Ned's cock-carefully, so as not to dislodge the other prick from her asshole. "Billy's not gonna do anything like that. He knows I'll cut him no off if he does."
"How does he know that?" Ned asked, gripping the girl's tits and shoving his cock into her tight little cunt all the way to the balls.
"'Cause I told him so," Peggy panted. "Oh, shit, that feels good!" Peggy loved to have two cocks in her at the same time, even if one of them was only three inches long. In this case the other one was plenty long enough to make up for it.
Amelia slipped her lips from Lonny's dick again and said, "And anyway, Ned."
"That was all she said. She was going to tell Ned in that mysterious way of hers-like she always knew what was going to happen in the future-that she had an idea he would figure out what to do about Amy Jean pretty soon. But she didn't get to say it because just then Lonny got his nuts off and his cum squirted her in the lips and nose. She got her mouth back on his prick after the first couple of shots and gulped down the rest of his load, but by that time everybody was too busy to talk.
Anyhow, Mr. Billy was having this problem of concealment. He didn't dare take Peggy upstairs where Sarah was, and the backroom was getting too dangerous. Once, while he was fucking her back there on a pile of empty feed sacks under the horse collars, a Salvation Army lady had come wandering through, ringing her little bell. Mr. Billy was so terrorized he couldn't even stop humping. He had no control over his body, his ass was adrift. Luckily, Peggy kept her head. She pulled Mr.
Billy's overalls down from a horse collar where he had hung them, dug all the change out of his pocket and put it in the lady's pot. 'There you are," she said with a friendly smile. "God bless you," said the lady, and she went away ringing her bell. They never saw her again. From that day on Mr. Billy had a profound respect for the Salvation Army. He would give generously to anybody in a blue suit who carried a pot. One time years later he gave five dollars to a janitor in the alley behind the bus station.
But everyone who walked through the backroom of Prescott Hardware could not be counted on to be a member of the Salvation Army. Customers and salesmen traipsed through there all the time. Ned suggested walling off part of the backroom, installing a folding bed and a door with a lock, but Mr. Billy decided on the old barn out behind the store.
After the city had closed in around them the Prescotts had to get rid of their livestock, but they could see no sense in tearing down a perfectly good barn just because some of them upstart newcomers didn't like the looks of it. They had used it for storage since then, but Mr. Billy cleared out a roomy stall against the front wall, swept it out, threw an old mattress in there and covered it with a quilt he sneaked out of his bedroom upstairs.
"How 'bout that there, youngun," he said proudly when he showed it to Peggy for the first time.
"Far out," she said, throwing her smock off over her head and sprawling naked on the quilt.
Mr. Billy was on her before she stopped bouncing. Gripping her slender ankles in his big horny hands and holding her feet up in the air, making a big peace sign with her legs, he said, "Lord God!" and shoved his great club of a cock into her slippery little twat. It went in easy that time because she'd just finished fucking Ned.
It was about that same time that Amelia gave Tim one of her mysterious psychic smiles and said, "Honey, nothing goes on for very long without changing. The trick is to get the most out of each phase."
She and the boys were sunning themselves in the nude on a blanket spread out on the floor of the upstairs porch, right outside Sarah's bedroom window. Now that she was more or less free to resume her normal lifestyle, Amelia was trying to get some of her lost suntan back. Already her skin was turning golden again, but Tim and Lonny, who weren't used to that much sun, were as red as lobsters. Amelia was leisurely manipulating Tim's foreskin up and down over the head of his erect prick with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, while at the same unhurried rhythm she worked the middle finger of her right hand in and out of Lonny's asshole. In the background they heard the grunts and growls of Sarah and Peter the Great as they made mad love in the old lady's sickroom.
Amelia had made her statement about change in reply to something Tim had just said: that things just couldn't go on like this for long. He was repeating what Ned had said to him the day before, after nearly getting caught with his pants down again by Amy Jean. The girl had taken to popping in when she was least expected, as though she knew something evil was going on around there and was determined to get to the bottom of it. She was also beginning to insist, almost angrily, that Ned set a date for their marriage because people were beginning to talk.
But strangely enough it was not Amy Jean that brought about the next cataclysmic upheaval, which shook Prescott Hardware to the ancient stones of its foundation.
The Prescotts' "back yard" consisted of the narrow strip between the rear wall of the main building and the front wall of the barn, because they had sold off all the rest of their original acreage. This back yard was just wide enough for Mr. Billy and Ned to park their cars side by side. At the northwest corner of the little yard was a pile of junk left over from a salvage operation Mr. Billy had been engaged in five or six years ago, and among this stuff were some old cracked porcelain commodes. One of them, which was standing upright on top of the pile as though ready for somebody to sit down on and do their business, was directly below the shuttered window of the little loveroom Mr. Billy had fixed up for him and his girl friend.
It was this scummy old shit pot, and not Amy Jean Jones, that initiated the next phase in the modernization of Prescott Hardware. The deodorized men in business suits, whose efforts to do away with this anachronistic eyesore had been to no avail, might have taken some measure of satisfaction in the knowledge that the Prescott household, like the Roman Empire and the United States of America, was decaying from within.
"Pull it out and stick it in my mouth!" Peggy cried in the claws of her orgasm.
Even though Mr. Billy started cumming the moment his cockhead cleared her foaming pussy and therefore lost quite a bit on his way from her crotch to her open lips, he pumped so much cum into her mouth that it came out of her nose.
Amelia pointed Lonny's prick at Sarah's window, and the boy laughed as his cum went whing, whing, whing! against the screen.
The sound roused Sarah from a dream and she awoke to find her tongue in Peter the Great's asshole. Peter's long nose was cradled in her cunt, and in the ladies' room of the Speedball Supermarket next door, Amy Jean Jones was sitting on the toilet fingering herself. Smoldering with anger over something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she had turned to something she could.
Peter the Great blew bubbles in his sleep....
CHAPTER EIGHT
One day Sarah Prescott woke up from her afternoon nap to find Peter the Great gone.
In the back bedroom across the hall Amelia was receiving a young visitor. She received him in her mouth, prick first. It was a short stubby little goober, but it was thicker than Tim's or Lonny's. It was thicker than both of them put together, in fact. Under it were a pair of hairless little sparrow's egg balls and a sweet little dimple of an asshole which Amelia was looking forward to sampling with a French kiss or two. All these goodies were surrounded and almost hidden by smooth, soft, pink-skinned cushions of baby fat and topped off by a round head with hair like dry hay, ears that were slightly pointed at the tips, and a round-cheeked, pug-nosed face with large blue eyes which oscillated continuously between surprise and outright shock.
His name was Leroy but they called him Pork. He was twelve years old and at this moment, technically speaking, still a virgin, since he hadn't shot his wad yet, although he was getting close, puffing and blowing like a baby whale who had run aground, when Tim and Lonny interrupted the blowjob.
"Hey, Amelia!" Lonny said. "Come look at this! Ha ha!"
"That Mr. Billy fucks like a damn earthquake," Tim explained with a laugh. "He socked it to Peggy so hard he knocked three boards off the window."
Amelia was propped up on some pillows at the head of the bed, and Pork was sort of sitting on her naked tits. He was facing her, with his knees over her shoulders, a pudgy foot on either side of her stack of pillows, and he was holding onto the iron bar of the bedstead with both hands, watching in apparent disbelief as the naked lady's full wet lips slid up and down the rock-hard lump of his dick. When she stopped sucking and looked over at Tim and Lonny, who were standing by the back window, Pork's fear came back to him so suddenly that his prick-which had been on the verge of ejaculation-wilted instantly like a boiled stringbean, and he would have made a run for the door if he could have gotten his hands loose from the iron bar. But he couldn't.
"Can you see anything?" Amelia asked, wiping the drool from her chin on Pork's pudgy thigh.
"Hell, yes!" Tim said. "You can see right down in there."
"Come and look, Pork," Lonny said.
Amelia pried the boy's hands from the bedstead and the two of them joined Tim and Lonny at the window. Pork was still thinking about escape but Amelia never let go of him, and as soon as he had a look into Mr. Billy's loveroom he forgot about it.
"Hey, that there's the same girl I seen out there on y'all's porch!" he said. He meant the upstairs porch.
Leroy Buchanan was an old friend of Tim and Lonny's. The Buchanans and the Haskins used to be next door neighbors, back before the airplane fell on Mr. And Mrs. Haskins, and Tim and Lonny and Pork had been partners in crime ever since they could walk, possibly even before that. They were always getting into some kind of mischief, and not even the torture which Mrs. Haskins threatened them with on one occasion could have made them rat on each other. One would lie and the other two would swear to it. This was why Tim and Lonny thought it was safe to tell Pork about their strange and wonderful new adventures in the world of sex.
But it had been several years since they had seen very much of their old friend. His family had only recently moved into this neighborhood, and the reunion turned out to be somewhat disappointing. Tim and Lonny had grown leaner and harder while Pork had grown fatter and softer. And while Pork was just beginning to associate the secret pleasure he got from his fist in the bathroom with real live girls on the street, Tim and Lonny had been splashing and wallowing merrily in the very cunt, lips of life. The bond of childhood complicity that had held the three boys closer than brothers had been broken.
But in spite of Amelia's strict warnings not to breathe a word to anyone, Tim and Lonny just had to tell somebody, and Pork was the obvious choice. They may have drifted apart, but there was no reason to believe that Pork had turned into a fink. The trouble was he didn't believe them.
"Sure," he would say. "Haw, haw, haw! Sure ya did!"
He had never heard of some of the things they told him, never even dreamed of others. Some of it gave him such a hard-on that as soon as he got home he would run into the bathroom and jack off, and some of it made him sick to his stomach, but he didn't believe a single word of any of it. Things like that didn't happen, at least not in Little Rock, Arkansas.
One day he said, "Awright then, if all that's true how come ya'll are so selfish? Why don'tcha let me fuck her?"
"Hell, we would if we could, Pork," Tim said.
"But we can't," said Lonny.
"Amelia don't want us to tell nobody, 'cause if the word gets around-"
"Sure, sure," Pork said and laughed, jiggling all over. "Haw, haw, haw!"
Finally it became unbearable and they told Amelia about Pork. To their surprise, she said, "Well, hell, bring him on up. If he can keep a secret as well as you say he can, there's nothing to worry about. Besides, he'll keep it better if we make it worth his while." The truth was that Amelia had been feeling the urge for something strange for several days now. "Set it up for tomorrow afternoon," she told them.
But it didn't happen that quick. When Pork heard the news he broke out in a cold sweat, and it was three days before they were able to persuade him to at least come up and meet Amelia.
Pork didn't think he was going to make it up the back stairs. His knees felt like rubber and his sweat smelled like rotten fish. But when he reached the landing and stepped through the screen door into the dim corridor, he saw something which dramatically changed his condition, perhaps permanently. His dick came out of the donut of fat surrounding it, throbbing with life, and the rest of his body went numb.
On the floor of the upstairs porch at the far end of the corridor, her sunlit body framed in the open doorway, Peggy was taking a sunbath in the nude. She was lying on her back on a quilt, her hands folded behind her head and her legs spread wide.
This was such a common sight that Tim and Lonny hardly even noticed Peggy and didn't think to say anything to Pork about her. As they approached the door to Amelia's apartment, Pork shuffling along like a zombie, his eyes locked on the golden body up ahead, Ned appeared on the left side of the doorway. He was naked too, and he had a hard-on. Because of the size of the thing, Pork did not think it was his prick. He thought it must be something else.
But he watched Ned lie down on top of the girl and stick whatever it was into the fuzzy slit between her legs, and then he started making his ass go up and down.
Pork had time to watch maybe three or four strokes before Tim and Lonny pulled him inside the apartment. The vision really shook him up. He felt feverish inside, and so confused that he forgot to be afraid when they led him into Amelia's bedroom. His dazed condition was fortunate for Amelia. She had no trouble at all in getting him undressed and guiding him into position for the blow-job, and he didn't really become aware of what was happening until she actually started to suck his dick. This was so fascinating and unbelievable that the whole experience, if it had been allowed to reach its climax, might have at least taken some of the suffocating brilliance away from Pork's mental image of the naked girl in the sunlight.
Fate, however, had other plans.
In fact it may have been she, Fate, who was responsible for those three boards falling from the shutter. In any case it was not Mr. Billy fucking "like a damn earthquake" that did it, because the truth was they hadn't even started yet when Tim said that.
Now that she had to take care of both Ned and Mr. Billy, who seemed to be trying to outdo each other in the arena of virility, and therefore spent most of her time fucking, Peggy had taken to wearing a faded old smock with nothing on under it. She had gotten tired of taking off her clothes and putting them back on six or seven times a day. The smock had no sleeves and was just barely long enough to cover her ass, which made it cool in the heat of the day, and it had a wide neckline which made it easy to get off and on. She was just in the act of slipping this smock off over her head when Amelia guided Pork to the window.
"That's my daughter Peggy," Amelia told him, working her ass in between his belly and the window sill and holding his pudgy little hands tightly to her tits so he couldn't get away. "What was she doing on the porch?"
Pork swallowed. His ears were about to burst into flames.
"She was fuckin' Ned," Lonny said, not so much remembering what he had hardly noticed at the time, but just figuring that if Peggy had been on the porch that must have been what she was doing.
"And now she's gonna fuck Mr. Billy," Tim said. "Watch."
"And while we watch," Amelia said to Pork in a low voice, rubbing his hands around on her hard-knobbed nipples and moving her hot bare ass up and down against his prick, "how would you like to fuck me?"
Pork swallowed and tried to say, "Huh?" but his voice cracked. His prick, however, had regained its erection the moment he looked down and saw Peggy in the window of the barn, and that was the important thing as far as Amelia was concerned.
Only part of Mr. Billy's body could be seen from the upstairs window. He had his shirt pulled up a little above his waist and his overalls pulled down to his knees. His cock, its magic mushroom head gleaming red, stood up in the glow of the electric bug lamp in the rafters of the loveroom like an ancient cypress knee. This was the part that could be seen from the upstairs window.
Hanging her smock on a nail, Peggy shook her long black hair, fluffed up the curls of her little bush, straddled the old man's hips and squatted down on his cock.
"Can you see all right?" Amelia asked Pork, bending over a little further and reaching between her legs for his prick.
But Pork hardly heard her. He was staring at the fantastically obscene spectacle taking place down there in the barn: the biggest peter he had ever seen in his life disappearing up the pussy of the most beautiful girl in the world.
Lonny glanced at Pork's bulging eyes and gaping mouth and said, "He can see all right."
"Good," Amelia said in a breathless voice as she got the head of his stubby little dick started in her cunt. "Push."
Pork pushed. "Uhn!"
"Ah!" cried Amelia.
Pork wondered what was happening to the lower part of his body. When Amelia told him to push, he had not known what she meant, but he had somehow done it anyway. It was as if he had an auxiliary brain in his ass like a caterpillar. In a moment he was humping rhythmically at the same tempo at which Peggy was doing her squats over Mr. Billy's crotch, clutching feverishly at Amelia's tits, which were now hanging out over the sill of the screenless window, imagining they were Peggy's, and not even realizing that he was getting his first piece of ass.
"Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!...."
The brothers, one on each side of the fuckers, were leaning out the window too, enjoying the improbable if not impossible looking phenomenon of that monstrous club of a cock alternately appearing out of and disappearing into Peggy's belly through the dainty black-fringed hole between her legs.
"Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!...."
Up and down she went with superb athletic grace, her arms coiling above her head like golden snakes, her coal-black fan of hair lifting and floating in the amber light of the bug lamp like a cape of magic feathers, and she even managed to shake her tits now and then without losing her balance.
"Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!...."
Amelia managed to get ahold of Tim and Lonny's peckers, Tim's with her left hand and Lonny's with her right, and started jacking them off, but Pork didn't realize that any more than he realized he was fucking. "Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!...."
He was the one doing all the grunting, too, but he didn't realize that either. "Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!...."
Peter the Great opened his eyes but saw nothing. He tried to yawn and stretch, as he always did after a nap, but these operations also failed. After a moment he figured out what the trouble was, pulled his head from between Sarah's thighs, yawned and stretched successfully and went to take a piss, leaving his lady friend sleeping peacefully on the bed.
Damn, he thought, finding the bathroom door closed.
The old lady was all the time forgetting to leave the door open for him, no matter how many times Amelia reminded her. Peter could open some doors with his teeth, the ones with smoothly working knobs and bolts, but such doors were rare in the Prescott building and this door to Sarah's bathroom was not one of them. To make it worse, Peter now realized he had to shit as well.
"Woof," he said, but Sarah was dead to the world, still sleeping off a bed-rattling asshole-fuck that made her go off like a Roman candle.
Peter tried the corridor door but he couldn't open that either, so finally he jumped out the bedroom window to the upstairs porch and entered the corridor that way. They had taken the screen off Sarah's bedroom window because that was the way Peter came and went without being detected by Mr. Billy. With the screen off Amelia didn't have to come and let him in every time.
But of course Ned's door as well as Amelia's was closed too, and since his mistress was in the backroom with her little boyfriends she didn't hear Peter's scratching. He tried another "Woof!" but nobody heard that either.
Peter the Great was truly a creature of habit. He had been potty trained as a young pup and it would never have occurred to him to simply shit on the floor like an ordinary dog.
Fuck, he thought, and with a sigh of impatience went on down the corridor to the back door. This door opened easily and he went out onto the landing of the back stairs.
It was about then that Sarah woke up and found him gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Aha, thought Peter the Great when he spotted the old commode leaning against the barn.
Tim was the first to notice the big dog loping down the stairs. "Hey," he said. "There's Peter."
Amelia stopped jacking Tim and Lonny's pricks but Pork kept right on humping. "My-y goo-oodness," Amelia said, and she was about to call out to Peter when it flashed into her mind what had probably happened. Uh-oh, she thought, and she barely had time to haul Tim and Lonny and her tits back into the room before Sarah opened the door to the back stairs.
"Peter," Sarah called softly, glancing nervously left and right, up and down.
Peter the Great was already climbing the pile of junk to the cracked commode.
Peggy was still on top of Mr. Billy, giving it hell, but she wasn't doing deep kneebends any more. She was down on her knees now, doing all the work with her ass while Mr. Billy pawed her titties with his big scaly hands.
The strange sight of Sarah creeping down the stairs after being holed up in her room for three months made Amelia forget about the little fellow behind her, who did not understand what was happening. Pork hung on blindly and, whether he knew what he was doing or not, did his grunting best to keep the fuck going. But, alas, to no avail. And what was worse, they kept pushing and pulling him back from the window so that he couldn't see the naked girl.
He said, "Hey, how come-?"
"Sh!"
Peter the Great lifted his leg and pissed into the scummy bowl. He pissed and he pissed. Oh, wow, he thought, and then pissed some more.
"We better holler!" Tim said. "We gotta warn 'em-!"
Amelia put her hand over his mouth. "No, I don't think so," she whispered. "Anyway, it's too late for that. Look."
Sure enough, the old girl had already seen the open window at the corner of the barn with the sinister-looking amber glow inside. Suddenly she was her old self again. Some evil was afoot here, she could feel it in her bones.
Clutching the collar of her housecoat tightly about her scrawny neck and hunching her narrow shoulders like a witch, Sarah rapidly covered the open ground between the stairs and the barn and went slithering along the wall toward the window.
Peggy had noticed the boards falling off the shutter when Mr. Billy threw himself onto the bed, but she hadn't paid much attention to it. To Peggy a fuck was a fuck, whether on a sunny sidewalk or in a dark closet, and she never particularly gave a shit whether or not anyone spotted her in the act. So she just went on riding contentedly up and down Mr. Billy's greasy pole without even noticing her mother and the kids watching her from the upstairs window.
Mr. Billy, on the other hand, hadn't noticed the shutter falling apart because his whole attention was fixed on Peggy. Even when it occurred to him that her tits were illuminated by a different kind of light than that of the bug lamp alone, he didn't discover the source of this new light until he looked up and saw his wife looking down at him through the open window.
"Billy!" Sarah cried with the voice of a frog.
It couldn't have happened at a worse time. Mr. Billy had just started to cum, so that he was unable to say a word. His blood turned to ice water the moment he saw the face in the window but it was too late to stop the orgasm.
SQUIRT! SQUIRT!
And Sarah had arrived at the window just in time to see the maneuver Mr. Billy liked so much, the one in which Peggy jerked her pussy off his cock after the first or second squirt, spun around so that her ass was in his face and covered the erupting organ with her mouth, swallowing the rest of his load. Sarah didn't get to see the whole maneuver, though. At least not in the smooth and efficient way in which Peggy ordinarily executed it. Because it was just as Peggy was dismounting that the scandalized old lady croaked her husband's name, For a moment Peggy just sat back on Mr. Billy's chest and stared up at the face in the window, while the old man's cum gushed up between them in great whirling globs.
SQUIRT! SQUIRT! SQUIRT!....
It was as if Peggy and Sarah were facing each other across a fountain.
"Uh-Hi, Mrs. Prescott," Peggy said, not knowing what else to say. And then, when one of the cum globs went wild and struck Sarah in the center of her forehead, the girl added, "Oh-excuse me," and with an apologetic smile she bent over and finished the second half of the maneuver.
Sarah didn't stay for the whole thing, though. She only had time to watch Peggy swallow two or three gushes before she realized some of it had hit her in the face.
The way she screamed, you would have thought it was boiling pitch or muriatic acid instead of a harmless little drop of cum. Even Peter the Great, who hadn't been paying much attention until then, was startled by that scream. He looked up from his squatting perch on the cracked toilet bowl and saw the old lady running up the back stairs as fast as she could go, rubbing and scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeves of her housecoat. Then he stretched his neck, peered over the window sill into the little room where Peggy was swallowing the last few drops of Mr. Billy's load, shrugged, and finished taking his crap.
Fifteen minutes later, when Peggy had left the barn and Mr. Billy had already started to get drunk and Amelia had sent Tim down to the store to tell Ned what had happened and a cloud of gloom had descended over Prescott Hardware, Peter the Great was still searching impatiently for a handle to flush the toilet with.
"Where is she?" Tim asked when he got back upstairs.
"She locked herself in her room," Amelia said.
"She even locked the window," Lonny added.
"Jesus," Tim said. "What the hell's gonna happen now?"
Amelia didn't have an answer but she hadn't let this upset her like the others had. She saw that it had been bound to happen sooner or later. It was merely the opening into the next phase. A thing ended, a thing began, that was the way it went. Then all of a sudden she realized the fat kid wasn't there any more.
"What happened to Pork?" she asked.
The boys shrugged. "Went home, I reckon," Tim said.
This was not quite true.
During the confusion Pork had slipped into his clothes and left the apartment without a word. It wasn't so much that he was pissed off at Amelia for brushing him away as if he were some kind of bug or something just when he was about to consummate his first piece of ass, because it never had become clear to him that he actually was getting a piece of ass anyway. Nevertheless, this must have had a lot to do with the feeling of frustration that was burning inside him like a fever as he stumbled clumsily down the inside stairs like a sleepwalker.
He had slipped out of the bedroom upstairs at about the same time Peggy had left the barn. In her haste to alert Ned and her mother to what had happened she just snatched up her smock and ran out into the yard naked. She started putting the smock on as she got near the door to the backroom of the store, jamming her arms into the sleeves, and had just pulled it over her head when she collided with a heavy but jelly-like object just inside the doorway. This jelly-like object was Pork Buchanan.
"Oof," he said, bouncing back against a roll of hog wire.
"What the hell?" Peggy muttered, sticking her head out the top of the smock, which then fell down over her tits and belly.
Pork had come down here for one thing only and now, stunned by that delicious impact with Peggy's naked body, he couldn't think of anything else to do except to blurt it out.
"Can I fuck you?" he asked.
Peggy blinked at him as she straightened her smock.
"Please?" Pork added, not in a pleading tone, because it didn't occur to him that she might turn him down, but merely as a courteous afterthought.
Ordinarily Peggy would have made the most of an opportunity like that, but this was no time for fun and games and at that moment this fat kid was nothing to her but something to take her anxiety out on.
"You can fuck yourself, fatso," she said, rudely shoving him aside and hurrying on to the front of the store.
Poor Pork was utterly crushed. He hadn't expected that. From what Tim and Lonny had told him, and then from his own experiences in the past few hours, he thought that when you wanted to do something dirty in this house all you had to do was ask. And now, not only had he been rejected, but he had been called fatso on top of it. Soon-in a matter of seconds, in fact-his self-pity curdled into anger and he remembered that that nasty old widow upstairs had brushed him off too as soon as she got tired of playing with him, and even his old friends Tim and Lonny had ignored him like he wasn't even there, and now his balls hurt and nobody cared. Angry tears burned down his fat cheeks as he stormed out the back door and started home, kicking things as he went.
If anybody had suggested to him that he had fallen in love with Peggy Frick at the very instant he saw her lying in the sun out there on the porch, he would have denied it because as far as Pork was concerned love was something that happened on television. Nevertheless, that was what had happened to him.
Well, he'd fix them, by damn. Oh, boy, would he ever. They couldn't treat him like that and get away with it, no sir, but he was halfway home before it occurred to him how he might go about getting his revenge.
He turned around and started back, but he had to stop kicking things. His idea made him feel better in the head but not between his legs. Bent forward slightly at the waist he shuffled on and pretty soon came in sight of his destination: the Speedball supermarket where his Aunt Amy Jean worked as a checker.
Ya'll are gonna be sorry ya'll messed with Pork, he thought as he limped past Prescott Hardware....
For once there wasn't a single hard-on in the whole house.
Ned closed the store early and joined the moping party in Amelia's room. Nobody pinched a tit or tweaked a prick or goosed an asshole. Even Amelia had nothing to say, but she was still ahead of the others. That is, she was worrying about a different problem than the one they were worrying about. When Ned suggested they divide up into teams, one team to go and talk to Mr. Billy, another to talk to Mizz Sarah and a third to start packing just in case, she pooh-poohed him with a wave of her hand.
"Oh, I'm not worried about them," she said. "I just have a bad feeling about Pork."
Peggy thought her mother was talking about food poisoning until she remembered they had eaten fish last night. "What pork?" she asked, and Lonny told her.
"Oh, so that's who that fat kid was," Peggy said. "He propositioned me downstairs.
They all stared at her, especially Amelia, who asked her exactly what had occurred. Peggy told it just the way it happened.
"Oh, no," Amelia said.
CHAPTER TEN
In his youth Big Billy Prescott used to be quite a hell-raiser. A broad-shouldered, hard-assed bull of a man, he could outfight, outdrink and outfuck all his friends and all his enemies, in town as well as in the country. His amazing capabilities as a stud were known throughout Pulaski County and beyond. Reports concerning the size of his cock made married women have wet dreams in the daytime, and the sound of his old rattletrap Ford backfiring through the countryside on the weekends made young girls run out to their front yards and pee their panties as he drove by.
Everybody was astonished when he married prim little Sarah Peabody, who had never had a boyfriend in her life as far as anybody knew, and who, though she was twenty-three years old, did not look over fourteen. The only thing they had in common was that their parents went to the same church. Sarah's folks, who already feared the girl was destined to the life of an old maid, jumped at the chance to marry her off to a Prescott boy. Because Billy's father Joe Sam was one of the most well-to-do men in the area at that time, and young Billy had already moved into the store. Of course they knew Billy's reputation, and the thought of him and their little bird-like daughter alone together in a bedroom made them shudder, but they figured if he had proposed to Sarah he must have repented of his past sins. Anyhow, they were married and Billy watched the wild, happy, rip-roaring world of his bachelorhood begin to fade like a watercolor in the rain.
Folks figured Billy's daddy had pressured him into the marriage, and there was maybe a grain or two of truth in it. Joe Sam was not ignorant of the legend that cast his son as a sort of erotic Paul Bunyan, and though he could not help being secretly proud of the boy, he had to tell him that it just wasn't right for him to sell a man a pound of nails in the morning and diddle his daughter during lunch.
"Besides bein' agin the Lord," Joe Sam would say, "it's bad for business."
Billy's mother was always getting on him about settling down too, mainly because of his embarrassing habit of coming to church drunk and farting in the middle of the silent prayer. But these things didn't have much to do with Billy's marriage to Sarah Peabody. The real reason was that he saw her naked one night and was unable to eat or sleep for eleven days.
Big Billy had always intended to get married some day. A problem that nobody knew anything about kept eating at him all through his fighting and drinking and fucking. Like Ned Haskins forty years later, like most good old country boys in fact, Big Billy wanted to marry a virgin. The more young beauties he fucked, married and single, the bigger the problem became.
The problem was not finding a virgin. You could spot them a mile away and you could always see why they were still cherry. They were either pitifully thin or disgustingly fat or they had the face of a horse or something like that. Who would want to fuck them? That was the problem. Billy wanted to marry a beautiful virgin. But all the beautiful girls in Arkansas, it seemed to him, had already been fucked by the time he got to them.
One night he got lost while chasing three young ladies through the woods and passed out in a cornfield. When he came to around midnight he thought he was having a dream. He was sprawled in some tall weeds along the edge of the cornfield, and in a little clearing in a thicket directly in front of him, her naked body glowing in the light of the full moon, stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen his his life.
She was standing motionless with her head bowed, holding a little bunch of wild flowers between her small firm breasts. Then she knelt down and carefully arranged the flowers in an old fruit jar on the ground. After kneeling there for a while she rose with graceful solemnity, put on the gown and robe that were hanging on a pine bough beside her and floated like a ghost into the cornfield without ever noticing the drunken whore-hopper ogling her from the weeds.
Billy must have passed out again because the next thing he knew it was dawn. Remembering the dream, he got up and staggered into the thicket. Well, I be dawg, he thought when he saw the little clearing and the fruit jar of wild flowers glistening with dew. Then he turned around, looked at the bam and house across the cornfield, and suddenly became sober as a judge.
It was the Peabody place. That girl must have been ... Sarah Peabody!
It didn't seem possible. Sarah Peabody was one of the homeliest girls around. She always wore her hair in a bun at her neck and dressed in shapeless black clothes. She looked like a little girl and acted like an old lady. There wasn't a boy anywhere who would even think of trying to....
Hot damn! Billy thought. It looked like he had stumbled onto the solution to his problem.
He was mistaken, however.
Even though Sarah had been wearing black ever since Old Blue was drowned by a raccoon four years ago, nobody realized she was a widow. Sarah violently protested the marriage to that big bully Billy Prescott but she didn't have a chance against the determination of her parents. The morning Billy woke up in the Peabody cornfield was a Sunday, and in church that day he sat down beside Sarah. A month later they were married, and that was the end-except for one final incident-of the legend of Big Billy Prescott.
Before the wedding Sarah had made one last midnight visit to the grave of her canine lover, where she swore fidelity and pledged to him a life of celibacy-until they could "be together in heaven." This was, to say the least, disappointing news to her groom. Of course she didn't tell him the real reason, but instead led him to believe that she was not capable of that kind of thing, or that he was too big for her, or that she was not interested, or that her doctor had advised her against it, that a pregnancy would kill her, and so forth. When Billy told her about seeing her in the cornfield that night she denied it and told him it was just another of his drunken hallucinations. And since that was the last time he ever saw her naked, so that he was never able to verify the truth, he ended up believing her. His only consolation was that at least he had succeeded in marrying a virgin, even though he hadn't intended that she stay that way the rest of her life.
Billy would never have told anybody about his marriage problems, but they got out anyway. The Prescott house, where Billy and Sarah were living at that time, was crawling with young kids who couldn't help hearing the screaming battles that went on every night in the honeymooners' room, and of course they couldn't help telling about it at school either. Pretty soon everybody was whispering about it. Billy first noticed it in the store-muttering and chuckling behind his back-but for a while he tried to ignore it. It came to a head in a bar one Saturday night about a month after the wedding.
The bar was actually the front room of a whorehouse where Billy used to spend a lot of time. He just went in to have a beer and try to get his mind off his troubles. Again he ignored the muttering for a while, but he couldn't keep it up. A couple of old boys came up behind his bar stool with a pair of whores and started wrestling with them, feeling them up and pulling up their dresses and stuff like that, trying to get a rise out of Billy, who ignored them. Finally one of the men said he reckoned it was right what they been sayin' about Big Billy, and the other said yeah, it looked like oY Billy just couldn't cut it no more, haw, haw, haw.
Billy finished his beer and got up from the bar. He picked up the first old boy with one hand and threw him through the front window into the street with a tremendous crash of shattered glass. He picked up the second fellow with his other hand and threw him against a wall in the opposite direction, head first. Then he grabbed the two whores, ripped their dresses off, draped them face-up across a table, pulled out his cock and fucked both of them while everybody stood around and watched. When he finished with the first two whores, he grabbed two more from the crowd and fucked them too, and he kept it up until he had not only fucked all eight of the whores but two bar girls as well, plus, by mistake, an old lady who had come in for a glass of wine.
Then he went home and raped his wife in the kitchen, where he found her drinking-a glass of buttermilk.
That was when he found out she wasn't a virgin after all.
Billy got drunk that night and it took Sarah five years to sober him up. It was during that time that she became severely religious and got heavily involved in the affairs of the church. So much pressure was brought to bear on Billy, not only by his wife but by the entire congregation of the Rock Hill Baptist Church as well, that he was eventually worn down. Or it may have been the passing on of Joe Sam-which left Billy in ownership of the store since his brothers had dispersed to parts unknown-or that of his mother a year later. Anyhow, he sobered up one Saturday night and, with a sigh, allowed himself to be saved by the Reverend Ragthorn the next morning.
But his five-year binge had served its purpose, numbing his mind to the lost glory of his youth, or at least taking the sharp edges off the memories, and dulling his sense of secret shame for having married a slut who would not let him fuck her. Marinating his brain in alcohol for five years had made it possible for Billy to resign himself to living out the rest of his life, which he saw as a mere footnote to his youth, long and wordy but without interest, and all in fine print.
After the night of the rape in the kitchen, which had brought nephews and nieces and aunts and grandmothers from every corner of the house to see who was being murdered, Billy never touched Sarah again. In fact, that was the last piece of ass he had until Peggy's magical appearance in the twilight of his old age. But nobody in Little Rock ever again said Big Billy Prescott couldn't cut it no more, haw, haw, haw.
Billy was not one to burn all his bridges, however. And so on that Sunday after church, the day he got saved, while the Reverend Ragthorn, Sarah and all the ladies from the church smashed his stored up stock of whiskey in a holy orgy in the pasture where the Speedball Supermarket is today, Billy slipped off with a half case of Old Crow and a gallon of busthead corn and hid them in the hayloft of the barn behind the store. Thirty-nine years, seven months and three days later, after Sarah had gone screaming up the back stairs, he climbed up there and recovered the booze.
He placed the mossy jug and the dusty bottles carefully in an old burlap sack, lowered them on a rope to the floor of the barn and by dark had polished off three fifths of Old Crow, celebrating the emptying of each bottle with a slug of busthead. Then he got up, put the jug back into the sack with the rest of the bottles, draped the sack over his shoulder and walked out of the barn. Sure, it took him two hours to climb the back stairs, averaging ten minutes per step, but he did it with deadly and coldly calculated precision without once stumbling, bumping into the wall or touching the handrail. There was nobody in this world who could drink like Big Billy Prescott.
When he got to his apartment an hour later he didn't go to his own room but to Sarah's. Finding the door locked, he shuffled into the kitchen, opened his sack, drank another bottle of Old Crow and chased it with a chugalug of his forty-year-old moonshine. Then he wiped his mouth on the back of his hairy old hand, rose from his chair, navigated back through the dusty dark to his wife's bedroom with the accuracy of a bat, and kicked the door down.
Meanwhile, after spending a long time scrubbing like a demon at the cum spot on her forehead with lye soap and a wire brush, howling her troubles to Jesus and puking until nothing would come up but the greenish black bile of a life wasted in mourning, Sarah finally collapsed from exhaustion and drifted back into the old dream of her dead lover.
She hadn't had this dream for three months. Not since the beginning of her affair with Peter the Great. In the most hidden corner of her heart she had conceived the idea that Peter was actually a reincarnation of Old Blue. That was the way she justified breaking the promise she had made forty-five years ago at the secret grave beside her father's cornfield. She was pretty sure what had happened. Jesus, without telling His Father, had returned Old Blue to her on the sly out of pity and compassion for her years of suffering. Of course she never breathed a word of this in her prayers for fear of getting Jesus into trouble.
But as grand a time as she had been having reliving the great romance of her life, the affair was soured somewhat by its lack of total secrecy. She could hardly bear the fact that everybody in the house, except, thank God, her husband, knew about it, not to mention all the disgusting evil goings on all around her, sometimes right under her very window, which she could do nothing about. This was why she stayed in her room and never said a word to any of them. It was a desperate three-month-long attempt to prevent a disastrous confrontation between the part of herself which was a righteous rock of the church and the other part which was a dog-fucker.
Anyway, her recent real-life experience with the widow's wolfhound had apparently made the old dream of Blue unnecessary. But the shock and humiliation of the discovery of her husband's brazen adultery with a girl young enough to be her great-granddaughter had suddenly booted poor Sarah right back to where she started, writhing on the bed with her nightgown up around her armpits, dreaming a dream which always ended in the middle.
She had just taken off her dress and stretched out in the hay in the stall where she always met Old Blue when Mr. Billy entered her bedroom in a loud explosion of splintering wood and little pieces of metal from the broken bolt.
It didn't even wake her up.
"That you, Blue?" she said in the dream.
The crash scared the shit out of the Fricks and the Haskins. They all sprang to their feet as if they had been goosed simultaneously by six sadists with electrified dildoes.
"Holy shit!" Peggy said.
"What the fuck was that?" Ned gasped.
"Let's go!" cried Tim and Lonny.
"Woof!" exclaimed Peter the Great.
"Hold it," Amelia said, blocking the bedroom door.
They had been listening for the last several hours to Mr. Billy's ponderous creep up the back stairs and down the corridor, but they had not suspected they were listening to the final ticks of a time bomb. At least none of them but Amelia suspected it. Her intuition in matters like this was truly amazing.
"Now, just sit down, everybody," she said calmly. "Relax."
"Relax?"
"Ain't we gonna go see what-?"
"What the hell we gonna do, just sit here and-?"
"And wait," Amelia said. "Wait?!"
"Wait," she repeated.
"With our fingers in our ass," Ned said.
"If you wish," Amelia replied with a smile.
While they waited, Mr. Billy stood motionless among the ruins of the bedroom door like something carved out of stone by the Aztecs, gazing for the second time in his life upon his wife's naked body. The only thing about him that looked alive were his bloodshot eyes, which glowed red in the darkness like hot coals.
A full moon was rising above the mall across the street. Its rays slanted across the upstairs porch and through the window, illuminating Sarah's bed-and Sarah-in its ghostly light. Her arms were above her head, her chest thrown out. her legs spread, and her hairy cunt was rising and falling in little jerks and rolls.
Time, kind as it had been to Sarah, had not of course let her off scott free. But if she had been a hundred years old Mr. Billy would still have recognized that body, drunk or sober. That night of the rape had proved nothing. In her hysterical counterattack she had missed Billy's head with a frying pan and hit the light instead, so that almost the whole thing took place in the dark. But now, at last, he was certain.
"I knowed damn well that weren't no dream," he said aloud.
"Oh, Blue," Sarah moaned hoarsely, rolling over on her belly and sticking her bare ass up in the air. That was the first time Ol' Blue had ever spoken to her in a dream. "Come on, sugah," she muttered in her pillow. "Give it to me, honey!"
Mr. Billy blinked. Then he took a slow look around the room. As far as he could tell there was nobody there but him. He looked at Sarah's bare ass for a while, the remarkably smooth, round cheeks, the damp tufts of hair glistening in the moonlight below her asshole, and then he dropped his overalls and climbed onto the bed behind her.
The old frame and springs creaked and groaned as he laboriously covered the distance from the foot of the bed to Sarah's behind, which loomed up ahead of him like a target. He walked on his knees, with perfect balance, his huge, gnarled, rock-hard cock going on before him like a battering ram.
His concentration was intense, his accuracy incredible. Taking his cock in his right hand, he guided the broad-nosed knobby head straight into the fuckhole of Sarah's cunt with the precision of the docking maneuver of Apollo XI.
"Oh, Blue!" Sarah gasped as it went in.
And in, and in, and in....
The waiters in Amelia's room waited uneasily, occasionally dropping into a fitful sleep on the floor, only to be awakened by another howl or shriek from across the hall. In the morning Amelia fixed hot cereal for everybody but she was the only one who ate any. Luckily, it was Sunday, so Ned didn't have to go down and open the store. They just sat there all day, waiting.
By nightfall things had quieted down in the other apartment.
"My God," Ned said, hanging his head and covering his face with his hands. "He's finally killed her." From the horrible sounds Ned had deduced that Mr. Billy was torturing his wife to death, slowly. He was glad it was over.
Amelia snickered to herself. The others shuddered.
Around eight o'clock there was a knock on the door.
"He wants us to help bury her," Ned said.
"Oh, hush," said Amelia, going to the door. It was Sarah and Mr. Billy, both alive and apparently well. They both had big sheepish shit-eating grins on their faces, and Mr. Billy had a burlap sack slung over his shoulder. "Well, hello there!"
"Howdy," said Mr. Billy.
"Howdy," Sarah said.
They were holding hands and Sarah's ordinarily gray cheeks had become positively rosy. Mr. Billy seemed to have grown an extra foot in height because instead of his usual slouch he was standing straight up with his shoulders back. He looked eight feet tall. Everyone stared at the old people in amazement.
Finally Sarah cleared her throat and in a timid voice said, "We, uh, we was wonderin' if you folks, uh, had anything planned for this evenin'?"
"'Cause if yuh ain't," said Mr. Billy, making a clink-clonk noise by giving the burlap sack a little shake, "we goin' to have us a party."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Oh, did they have them a party.
By the most conservative estimate it lasted seven days and eight nights. Some say it went on longer than that, but in any case it was Monday morning a week later that they finally reopened the store for business. If it hadn't been for the loss of two of the principal revelers during the eighth night, God knows how long it would have lasted.
On the other hand, the addition of another partier on the first night damn near pinched off the celebration before it got going good.
After everyone had hugged and kissed the radiant old honeymooners, Amelia took charge amid the whooping and hollering and sat them down side by side on the sofa. While Ned sat down on the floor and examined the contents of the burlap bag, she turned off all the lights except for one or two in distant corners of the apartment and lit some candles in the living room.
Mr. Billy put his arm around Sarah and said, "Ain't this ro-mantic, Sary?"
"I reckon," Sarah said with a nervous giggle.
Ned laughed as he lifted a bottle out of the sack. Tim and Lonny laughed too. It was the first time anybody had ever heard Sarah Prescott giggle.
"Pop one o them bottles, boy, Mr. Billy said to Ned, "and let's take and have ourselves a little snort." Then he spotted Peter the Great, who was sitting nearby, licking his ass. "So you're the sonofabitch that's been a-diddlin' my old woman, are ye?" he said to Peter.
"Oh, Billy!" Sarah giggled. "Please don't-"
"Woof!" Peter replied cheerfully, and they all started laughing again.
Ned laughed so hard he spilled booze on himself. Even Sarah laughed, but she was still embarrassed by all this, and Amelia saw that they were going to have to take it kind of slow and easy. She was trying to decide whether to suggest a game of cards, which could start as rummy or something and end up as strip poker, when the bottle came around to her. The booze sort of muddled her head, so that by the time she realized Peggy had said "Mind if I get comfortable?" the girl had already thrown her smock off over her head.
Billy and Sarah of course had not spent the whole preceding twenty-four hours fucking, although it's true they spent most of it that way. They had had a long talk, confessing all their sins, past and present, and had come to the conclusion that it wasn't too late for them to change their way of living. Having had a man-sized-or horse-sized, rather-human cock in her for the first time in her life, Sarah was no longer obsessed by the memory of Old Blue, God rest his horny soul. It was like a great darkness had been lifted from her, and with it went the sinful aspect of sex. It struck her that her great sin had not been fucking, but not fucking. She felt grateful to the widow and her daughter and wanted to learn more from them. And also-though she didn't tell Billy this-she wondered if Peggy would mind if young Ned just sort of slipped that big banana of his into her once or twice, hee, hee, hee. But as ready and willing as she was to become a liberated woman, the old girl could not help being shocked at the sudden sight of Peggy's naked body.
"Oh, dear," she said, and even in the candlelight you could see her blushing.
Amelia finally reacted, saying, "Peggy, I think Sarah does mind. Perhaps that's not the kind of party our guests had in-"
But Billy cut her off. "Yeah, it is too," he said. "And Sary don't mind a bit. Here, woman, take a snort o' this."
Sarah giggled nervously again and tried to shove the bottle away, but Billy insisted, so finally she put it to her lips and took a bigger gulp than she'd intended to. It was her very first taste of liquor.
"Shit fire!" she gasped, and everybody went into convulsions. About the time the laughter started to die down she reached for the bottle again and said, "Lemme have another li'l snort o' that stuff."
Finally, after still another shot, Sarah put on her old hawk-like expression and stared straight at Peggy, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, letting it all hang out. "Don't you never even wear no underpants, child?" she asked sternly.
"Oh, sure," Peggy said, leaning back against Ned and casually scratching her pussy with one finger. "Sometimes I do. But not very often."
"I reckon you think you're purty hot stuff, don'cha?" Sarah said in the same hard voice.
The silence was awkward. Not even Mr. Billy knew what to say.
Peggy glanced nervously at her mother and said, "I don't know. I guess."
"Well, I got news for you, li'l Miss Hot Stuff," Sarah said, leaning toward the naked girl to deliver her punchline: "I ain't got none on neither!" And then she doubled over with shrieks of laughter at her own joke.
The others howled even louder, especially Tim and Lonny-even though they hadn't had anything to drink-because they never thought they would hear old Mizz Prescott say anything like that. And then when Peggy challenged her to "Prove it!" the boys jumped up and charged the sofa, and before Amelia could stop them they started tugging at the long skirt of Sarah's old-fashioned gray dress, yelling, "Show us! Show us!"
Sarah cried, "Eek!" and screamed and shrieked and giggled hysterically, trying to fight the boys off and begging Mr. Billy to help her, but Mr. Billy was laughing too hard to have helped her even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't.
He kept saying, "Go ahead and show 'em, Sary!" with the tears pouring down his old cheeks. "Haw, haw, haw, haw, haw, haw!"
And then Peggy got into it, and with Mr. Billy's help the three of them finally found out that Sarah had told the truth. She ended up on her back on the sofa, with her head in her old man's lap and her skirt up around her waist, panting from exhaustion and weeping with laughter.
Suddenly the laughter ended and everybody was silent, gazing at what they had uncovered.
Peggy, who was sitting astraddle the upper part of Sarah's stomach, her ass toward the old lady's face, was actually open-mouthed with wonder, and Ned got up and walked over to the sofa for a closer look.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered.
"Holy shit," Peggy whispered.
It was the first time either of them had got a good look at Sarah's naked body. They blinked at the astonishingly graceful curves of her slender legs, the surprising smoothness of her belly, the sharply rising hill of her cunt, the flare of her hips. The candlelight helped, of course. It made blemishes, wrinkles, scars and broken veins less noticeable, and it even softened the bristly curls of her cunt hair and made the gray hairs look blonde.
If the booze had not altogether succeeded in breaking down Sarah's inhibitions, the rain of compliments on her good looks that they now showered her with finished off the job. She relaxed, let her thighs spread a little, and didn't do anything to stop Tim and Lonny when they slid their hands up her legs and started playing with her cunt. They remembered how it had smelled that night she fainted in the corridor and were surprised now that it didn't stink like that any more. Peggy noticed it too. She bent over, practically sticking her nose in Sarah's crack, and took a sniff.
"Hey, that's not bad," she said.
"She took and per-fumed it," Mr. Billy chuckled, rubbing Sarah's tits through the front of her dress.
"What do you use, Mrs. Prescott?" Peggy asked. "Violets," Sarah sighed happily. "Far out," Peggy replied.
"But I'd druther you'd call me Sarah, honey."
"Okay, Sarah," Peggy said, turning around so that she was facing the old lady, still straddling her belly. "Let's see the rest of it," and she started unbuttoning the front of Sarah's dress, beginning at her waist and working up.
Without taking his eyes off Peggy's candlelit tits, which jiggled as she undid the closely spaced buttons, Mr. Billy took a pull on his jug of busthead shine. But when Ned reached for the jug Mr. Billy chuckled and tucked it behind him in the comer of the sofa. "Reckon you better not, son," he said.
"Shee-it," Ned said, meaning that he could handle anything Mr. Billy could, but he didn't pursue the matter. He was too busy watching the inch-by-inch unveiling of Sarah's torso.
Sarah was watching something too. Giddy from the Old Crow and from all this attention she was getting, she no longer even made a token protest at being undressed. At first she was fascinated by the naked girl sitting on her, and by the tickling sensation of pussy hair in her bellybutton, and she joined her husband in admiring the jiggling tits. But now Amelia noticed that Sarah's gaze wandered over to the left and came to rest on Ned's crotch.
He was still standing over her but he didn't notice what she was looking at because he wasn't looking at her face. Peggy was just then uncovering the old girl's surprisingly solid tits. Amelia, who was sitting on the floor beside Ned, followed Sarah's dreamy gaze and saw the long bulge of Ned's hard-on pushing and throbbing against the front of his tight jeans.
Well, well, Amelia thought, scooting her ass over behind Ned and reaching around for his belt buckle. May as well give her a good look.
"Hey, wha-?"
But Amelia slapped his hands away. "Hush," she said.
Peggy giggled, and Tim and Lonny, seeing Ned being undressed, took it as a cue to take their own clothes off, which they did. But Sarah never took her attention from Ned's crotch. He made no further protests, and in a moment Amelia had his jeans open and pulled down off the hard-muscled cheeks of his ass. He didn't have anything on under the jeans, and when his cock sprang out it gave Sarah such a start-even though she was expecting it-that she stiffened all over for a moment. What startled her most were the few drops of dew that flew off the tip of the thing and sprinkled her lips. Peggy had already slipped the top of the open dress off Sarah's shoulders and was at that time stripping the long sleeves from her arms. By the time Sarah got an arm free and put her hand to her lips she found she had already licked the dew off. It tasted better than the whiskey, she thought.
As she worked the jeans down Ned's strong hairy legs, Amelia gave him a little kiss on each cheek of his ass and then goosed him with her tongue. Ned yelped and tucked his ass under him, which made his cock jab forward above Sarah's face.
Mr. Billy jerked his head back in alarm. "Watch that thing, boy," he said. The head of Ned's cock had narrowly missed hitting him in the nose.
"Sorry," Ned said, lifting a bare foot so Amelia could finish taking off his jeans. "She goosed me."
Tim and Lonny giggled and crawled around behind Amelia, where they began pulling at her clothes. They were both naked and their little pricks were stiff and jerky.
Peggy finished removing Sarah's dress, which was all she had on, and Ned pulled his T-shirt off over his head.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Amelia said, winking at Sarah from behind Ned's left hip, and she slipped her right hand between his thighs and cupped his shadowy balls in her palm.
"Glory be!" Sarah said in a breathless whisper, her gaze dancing up and down the magnificent naked animal looming over her.
"Aw, shit," Ned said, chuckling with embarrassment. "Just look at you. I ain't kiddin' ya, Mizz Sarah, I never thought nobody as old as you could look that good without no clothes on."
"Ned," Amelia scolded. 'That's not a very nice thing to-"
"Don't stop him, honey!" Sarah giggled. "It's plenty nice enough fer a ol' biddy like me. Hee, hee, hee!"
Ned told her she wasn't an old biddy and he and Peggy continued to make admiring comments about her legs and her ass and her tits.
"The first time I seen her naked," said Mr. Billy, "I couldn't eat nor sleep fer eleven days."
But after a minute they saw that Sarah wasn't listening any more and the room fell silent again.
Amelia still had Ned's balls in her right hand, and with her left she was slowly stroking the long undercurve of his cock, waving the head of it hypnotically above Sarah's face, skinning it back and milking it down. This is what Sarah was concentrating on.
Tim and Lonny even stopped pulling at Amelia's clothes to watch Sarah. Mr. Billy was watching too, grinning mischievously. He had his hand on one of Sarah's tits, massaging it gently, and Peggy put her left hand on the other tit, rubbing it softly and rolling the hard little raisin-like nipple under her palm. She reached back with her right hand and worked her middle finger into Sarah's cunt. The slit was all wet and warm.
This treatment was almost too much for poor Sarah. She began to writhe and moan, and as Amelia manipulated Ned's gleaming cockhead closer and closer to her face her mouth opened wider and wider.
"Oh," she moaned. "Ohhhhh ... ohhhhh ... ohhhhhh...."
Mr. Billy broke the spell. "I reckon it's time for that there lesson, Sary," he said.
Sarah stopped writhing and got embarrassed all over again. "Oh, Billy," she giggled.
"A lesson in what, Mr. Billy?" asked Tim.
"Cocksuckin'," Mr. Billy replied, and everybody whooped. "Y'see," he explained, "Sary's still sorta backwards in this here business, 'ceptin' with animals o' course, but she says she'll take and try this here cocksuckin' if the youngun here'll take and show her how a gal takes and goes about it, don'cha see? I ain't sure if she's a-skeered it's a-goin' to get stuck in her throat or whut, but-"
"Oh, Billy, hush!" Sarah cried, covering her face with her hands.
Peggy laughed and got off of Sarah's belly. "It's easy, Sarah," she said, kneeling at Ned's feet. "Watch."
Sarah peeked between her fingers. Amelia opened her right hand so that Ned's fuzzy balls were visible and slid her other hand down from the swollen red head of his dick to the thick reddish curls around its root, holding the member only with her thumb and first two fingers. When her daughter said, "First you just taste it," and stuck out her tongue, Amelia swung Ned's cock slowly from side to side so that the tip of the big leaking head rubbed across the tip of Peggy's tongue on each swing. Then-as Sarah watched breathlessly, her right hand going automatically and unconsciously to her cunt-Amelia guided the throbbing cockhead around and around Peggy's open mouth and then made it spiral outward, slowly, around and around, until Peggy's lips, chin, cheeks, nose, and even her eyelids glistened in the candlelight with Ned's pecker juice. Peggy showed Sarah how to make her mouth O-shaped and was just about to demonstrate a few sucks when Mr. Billy did it again.
That cracked everybody up, even Sarah, who got to laughing so hard she couldn't stop, until Mr. Billy clubbed her alongside the head with his cock: thud!
"Okay," Peggy said, giving Ned's dick a little kiss on the mouth and turning around to face Mr. Billy's. "Whatever you say, big daddy." She ran her small hands up along that thick, gnarled, scarred, lumpy trunk pulsating in the yellow glow of the candles, and she said she could understand how Sarah might be frightened at the thought of putting such a thing in her mouth, but that it was really a lot of fun once you got the hang of it. "First let's take his clothes off."
While Peggy pulled Mr. Billy's brogans off, Sarah unfastened his overalls, and between the two of them they soon had him stripped naked.
"Watch me for a minute," Peggy said, "and then you can try it."
Sarah nodded, as excited as a child on Christmas, and the demonstration began.
During the long wait, while Mr. Billy was busy "killing" his wife with his instrument of torture, it had been Peggy and the boys who seemed to do all the worrying, while Amelia had done her best to brighten their spirits. Now it was just the other way around. With the surprise appearance of the smiling old couple the others assumed all their troubles were over, but Amelia was afraid that was not quite the case. Now it was she who was apprehensive, and that was why she hadn't taken a very active part in the festivities so far.
Of course she tried not to let on, because if there was anything Amelia hated it was a party-pooper. But undressing Ned and playing with his cock and balls and all that had been mostly just for Sarah's entertainment, and all the time she was doing it she kept glancing nervously at the open door to the corridor. She was the one who suggested that Tim and Lonny run and open all the upstairs doors to celebrate their new freedom, but it gave her the jitters just the same, all those open doors.
This was why she hadn't cooperated with Tim and Lonny when they tried to undress her. She hadn't resisted their attempts either, however, so that now her clothes were hanging off her as if she'd got caught in some kind of machine.
Her blouse was unbuttoned but they hadn't been able to get it off of her because she wouldn't let go of their big brother's cock and balls long enough. They had unhooked her bra too, but they couldn't get that off either, so it was hanging in front of her tits like a dead animal. They had unzipped her skirt at the back and pulled it up to her crotch and pulled her panties halfway down to her knees. That was as far as they would go because she was sitting with her legs spread. The panties were stretched tightly between her heavy thighs.
It wasn't until Mr. Billy suggested she do a demonstration of dog-fucking while he was getting sucked off that she realized what a wreck the little buggers had made of her.
Sarah was on her all-fours on the sofa beside Mr. Billy, and Peggy was on her knees on the floor, between his hairy legs. The two of them were taking turns sucking his cock. One would hold it while the other sucked and fondled his balls, and the other would fondle his balls and suck while the other held it. And sometimes they would both try to suck at once, which didn't work too well.
Mr. Billy was enjoying the hell out of it. It wasn't the first time he'd been sucked off by two women at the same time, but it was the first time in more years than he cared to remember.
Sensing that Amelia wasn't in the mood, Tim crawled up behind Peggy and tried to get his prick into her pussy, but Ned knocked him out of the way.
"Big bully," Tim complained.
"That's my stuff, ya little shit," Ned said, taking his brother's place behind Peggy. He had just been standing there, feeling sort of left out, watching Mr. Billy get the blow-job he thought he was going to get, while Amelia played half-heartedly with his ass. Tim gave him the idea of fucking Peggy. He got down on his knees behind her, jacked her ass up a little, and went to it.
Following her instinctive habit of getting everybody placed and taken care of, Amelia took Tim's prick in her hand and pointed it toward the sofa. "There's an available hole," she said, aiming his dick at Sarah's elevated ass, which sort of vibrated as she slid her lips as far as they would go down the neck of Mr. Billy's cock.
"Me?!" Tim whispered in Amelia's face. "Fuck oV lady Prescott??!!"
Amelia shrugged. "Try it," she replied softly. "You might like it."
It was while Tim was mounting the sofa behind Sarah's violet-smelling ass that Mr. Billy made his suggestion.
"They's somethin' ya'll have seed that I ain't," he said, squinting first at Peter the Great and then at Amelia and then taking a pull on his jug.
"Lemme have a taste o' that, Mr. Billy," Ned said, taking a hand from Peggy's tit to reach for the jug. "Shit, I can drink anything you can-"
"I reckon not," said Mr. Billy, returning the jug to its nest. "So I wuz just wonderin', ma'am, if you and that there dawg could-"
"As my daughter so appropriately put it," Amelia interrupted him, "whatever you say, big daddy. Hey, Peter! Want some pussy, honey? ... Jesus Christ, I look like I got caught in some kind of machine."
She stood up, threw off her blouse and bra, stepped the rest of the way out of her panties and kicked her skirt across the room. "There," she said, giving her big tits a side-to-side shake for Mr. Billy, who had never seen her naked before.
"Hot damn!" exclaimed the old man.
Amelia knew something was going to happen-the last climax in the scenario she had intuitively mapped out soon after she and Peggy had set up housekeeping in the Prescott Building. She didn't know when it would happen or what form it would take, but it had to happen sooner or later, and after what had happened the day before yesterday, she had an idea it was going to be sooner. It could be bad, too. But in spite of her uneasiness she continued to keep her fears to herself and was determined not to put a damper on this party which everybody was enjoying so much.
So she turned toward Peter, who already had a hard-on, spread her legs and did a few bumps and grinds, her big naked tits and asscheeks lurching and wobbling voluptuously in the sexy yellow light.
"Want some o' this, lover?" she said to the dog, weaving the fingers of both hands into the thick curls of her bush and pulling her cunt lips apart.
"Woof!" Peter said, and enthusiastically began licking his mistress' slit, his long tongue wiggling deeper and deeper with each pass until-worried or not-her ount juice began to flow freely and her clit stiffened eagerly.
"Yee-ha!" cheered Mr. Billy, clapping his hands and bouncing his old ass up and down on the sofa.
This made Sarah's head bob up and down faster than ever as she sucked that wonderful cock, trying to take more and more of it with each stroke until its great blunt head was actually battering against the back of her throat. Tim's stiff little dick jabbing in and out of her bubbling cunt and his hot little hands on her tits were what made Sarah tackle the blow-job with such vigor and abandon. She forgot that she was old and religious, she forgot Ol' Blue and Sweet Lord Jesus. She knew only that she was a female animal, doing female animal things, and loving every minute of it.
Ned's long curved cock slish-sloshing in and out of her drooling pussy increased Peggy's passion too, and she began to pant and grunt and slobber in Mr. Billy's crotch, stuffing his big wrinkled balls into her mouth and sucking them savagely whenever Sarah was doing the dickwork.
Amelia grabbed Lonny, who had been grabbing at her all evening, and laid him out on the floor in front of her, getting down on her hands and knees at his feet. Might as well give him a good show, she thought. "Come on, Peter," she sang to the dog. "Give mama some o' that hot red meat!"
"Yee-ha!" yelled Mr. Billy as Peter the Great mounted up and began his wild humping as usual.
This time Amelia let him hump while she played with Lonny. She spread his legs wide and nuzzled into his crotch, sliding her hands under the smooth cheeks of his firm little ass, palms-up. She gave his dick a few sucks, licked his nuts for a minute and then lifted his butt until she had him doubled over, his knees above his shoulders, his bright bare behind uppermost. Mr. Billy let out another of his redneck whoops as she stuck her tongue into the boy's asshole.
She tongued him for a while, her head bobbing, her tongue going in and out, in and out, while Peter the Great continued to jab his great peter at her ass, as usual without hitting either hole. Then she unfolded Lonny, stretching him out on the floor so that his prick was pointing at the ceiling again, and she had just slid his foreskin down, exposing the bright red gleaming head, and touched her tongue to the tip of it when Tim got his gun.
"Ah! Ah!" he cried, and his cum squirt-squirt-squirted into Sarah's foaming cunt.
Sarah gurgled and growled in ecstasy, clutching at Mr. Billy's big balls with her right hand and gnawing and biting savagely at the hairy root of his spit-slick cock. Peggy was sucking the head of it at that time, and she too was about to cum. Ned had gripped her hips with his big strong hands and was slamming her ass back against his thighs and belly so hard that with each stroke she expected to feel the head of his prick coming up into her throat.
"Watch my little jackrabbit now," Amelia said to Mr. Billy after Tim's orgasm had subsided. "He'll cum in less than a dozen strokes."
Mr. Billy was about to get off too, so he could only grunt in reply. As Amelia started sucking Lonny's dick, which made his ass start bouncing up and down in time with the bobbing of her head, Peter the Great finally found the hole.
"Gruh!"
Amelia's body lurched forward and she let out a muffled cry of surprise, but she didn't take her mouth off Lonny's dick or even break her rhythm.
"Um, um, um!"Suck, suck, suck!
"Ah-oh-oo-!"
"Gruh! gruh! gruh!-"
Lonny came on the upbeat of the tenth stroke, just as Amy Jean appeared in the doorway to the corridor.
"YEE-HA!" cried Mr. Billy, and his cock erupted in an explosion of cum.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It had taken Pork a long time to get up enough nerve to tell his aunt about what was going on at Prescott Hardware-not to mention figuring out how he was going to tell her without using any dirty words. If he wasn't careful he could hurt himself more than that bunch of perverts.
After standing in front of the Speedball Supermarket for a while that night, he lost his nerve and limped home, gritting his teeth in rage every time he thought of how Peggy had rejected him. His parents thought he was sick because he didn't eat but a few bites of his supper. It was the pain in his balls. After supper he decided on an obscene phone call.
Amy Jean said she didn't believe one filthy word of it and slammed the receiver down. She kept on trying not to believe it all the next day, but during her afternoon break she went to the phone and called Pork.
"All right," she said. "I'm gonna see for myself what's goin' on up there, but you're comin' with me. 'Cause if I get caught sneakin' around and nothin's happening, I want you there to tell 'em what you told me."
Pork couldn't understand it. He had wrapped a dishcloth around the mouthpiece of the telephone like they did on television and held his nose while he talked. He made a shaky attempt to deny that it was he who called, but it was no use.
"Shoot," Amy Jean said. "I'd know your fat voice anywhere, Leroy. And if you ain't here by nine tonight, boy, I'm gonna tell your mama the kind of language you used."
Pork was there at eight-thirty.
Amy Jean had talked to his mother and suggested that Pork spend the night at her place and go to church with her and Ned in the morning. That was all right with Mrs. Buchanan. As soon as Amy Jean got off work she and Pork hurried around the corner of the supermarket and slipped into the darkness of the Prescotts' back yard. The windows were all dark upstairs.
"Let's go," Pork said in a trembling whisper. "They ain't home."
Amy Jean grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar and dragged him back into the yard. "Come on," she said. "We'll have a look anyway."
Now that Pork's balls didn't hurt any more he wished he hadn't gone to quite such drastic lengths to get revenge. It was another warm night, but he shivered all the way up the back stairs.
The prowlers would have had a harder time of it if Tim and Lonny hadn't followed Amelia's instructions about opening "al!" the doors quite so literally. Finding the inner door to the corridor standing wide open and the screen door unhooked gave Amy Jean new hope that Pork really had made all that up. If it were true, surely they would take pains to lock their doors. Nevertheless, she opened the screen door and tiptoed into the dark hallway, dragging Pork behind her.
That was when she noticed the candlelight flickering in the open doorway to that window's room and ... and heard the grunting.
Good heavens....
She had a sudden urge to turn around and sneak away, and she might have if it hadn't been for her nephew. The sounds of the orgy rekindled Pork's memory of the sunlit girl with the long black hair and gave him a hard-on, so that instead of trying to escape he now started shoving Amy Jean forward.
"Go ahead, Aunt Amy Jean!" he whispered. "They're right in there!"
Amy Jean swallowed, said a quick silent prayer, took a deep breath and walked bravely up the corridor to the open doorway just in time to see Mr. Billy's first spurt of cum splatter against the ceiling above his head.
"Arrrgh! Grrrr!"
"Rharrrr! Grarrr!"
That was not Peter the Great, it was Peggy and Sarah fighting like wild animals over Mr. Billy's cum, which was surging up between their snarling, biting mouths like a gusher of egg whites.
Peggy had just slipped her lips from Mr. Billy's cockhead to let Sarah take her turn when the first spasm of his orgasm shook the room, so that neither of them had her mouth over the muzzle at the moment the cannon discharged.
Half-crazed by the fiery clutching of her own orgasm, Peggy instantly tried to get her mouth back onto the squirting cockhead, but Sarah wasn't about to give up her turn without a fight. So they started snarling and snapping and foaming at the mouths, and sometimes one would succeed in getting a shot of cum in her mouth before the other bit her nose and got a spurt down her own throat, but most of Mr. Billy's load went wild, splashing into the two women's eyes, noses, ears and hair or squirting out across the room in all directions. Mr. Billy himself seemed to be getting a big kick out of it, and though his frantic cocksuckers sometimes by mistake bit his cock instead of each other, he didn't seem worried about its getting damaged in the fray.
Ned was amazed at this. How could anybody have a cock that tough? How could he just sit there going "uhn-ha! uhn-ha!" Ned wondered, wincing every time one of those wild females' teeth scraped or chomped down on Mr. Billy's cock, which kept right on spurting and splashing merrily.
Ned kept on fucking Peggy during this fight, but his concern for the old man's safety kept him from cumming. And it was a good thing too, as it turned out.
Of course this savage battle between a little girl (Amy Jean still thought Peggy was eleven) and a virtuous old lady over the semen of an old man was not the only thing that was going on when Amy Jean stepped up to the door. Little Tim, though he had already shot off, was still on the sofa behind Sarah with his prick in her cunt. On the floor his little brother was pumping his cum into Amelia's mouth and Peter the Great was pumping his into her cunt.
Amy Jean took all this in in an instant, but it took her five or ten seconds to realize that it was real, something that was actually happening, rather than some kind of bizarre optical illusion, a cruel trick played on her by her eyes or the candlelight or her imagination.
It was during this five or ten seconds that Amelia happened to look up and see her standing there in the door with her mouth open and her face white as a sheet. She was so surprised-even though this was what she had been expecting all along-that she jerked her head up, letting Lonny's dick slip from her lips. Naturally, the kid's next squirt caught her right in the eye.
"Uhn!"
Splat!
So that Amelia didn't see Amy Jean turn and run for her life, for the preacher, for the cops. She heard a vaguely familiar voice cry, "Look out, Aunt A-oof!" and heard the thudding crash as Amy Jean ran over Pork, and she heard Amy Jean's hysterical shrieks of outrage, but by the time she got the cum out of her eye the only thing she saw was Ned's bare ass disappearing through the doorway.
When Amelia said that Ned would know what to do about his fiancee when the time came, she was right.
It had come to him in a brilliant flash the moment he looked over his shoulder and saw the horrified girl standing there. He jerked his cock out of Peggy's snatch and started toward her, and that was what triggered Amy Jean's frantic flight. She was so scared that even afterward she didn't remember trampling poor Pork. She thought he was making it up until he showed her his bruises.
Amy Jean didn't get very far.
She might have escaped if she'd gone out the way she came in, but in her panic she took the first left and went flying down the inside stairs. Ned flew faster, however.
"Ya-hooooo!"
"Help! Hel-oh!"
He nailed her with a flying tackle on the little landing between floors. She went down hard and before she knew what was happening Ned had her pinned down on her back. He leered down at her, grinning fiendishly and rubbing his balls and the underside of his cock on her belly, getting the front of her white uniform all gooey with Peggy's pussy syrup.
As soon as she got her wind back Amy Jean started screaming again. She screamed for Ned to get off of her, get off, get off, and let her up, let her up, and help, help, but Ned just kept grinning down at her and there was no help forthcoming. By that time the others had turned on the lights and were lined up along the rail at the top of the stairs like a bunch of naked Romans waiting to see the lions eat a christian.
Amy Jean kept yelling though, until Ned hooked his fingers in the collar of her uniform and ripped it open from her throat to her bellybutton.
"Yee-ha!" cheered Mr. Billy.
Amy Jean stared up at him in utter disbelief. "What ... what are you ... gonna do?" she stammered, breathless with terror.
"What am I gonna do?" Ned said, slipping his fingers inside the tops of her bra cups. "Why, I'm gonna fuck ya, Amy Jean." It must have been the Old Crow.
"Hot damn!" said Tim and Lonny in unison.
Amy Jean tried to say, "No! No!" but somehow couldn't quite get the words out of her throat.
Sarah took another sip from the whiskey bottle she had brought with her from the apartment and cracked everybody up by saying, "Well shit, let's have a look at her boobies, sonny."
Laughing harder than anybody, Ned jerked the bra down, snapping the shoulder straps, and then he ripped the thing into two pieces and tossed them into the air.
"Hey, she's got nice tits," Peggy observed.
"Yes," said Amelia, "and look at her nipples."
"I'll swan," Sarah slurred, squinting down at Amy Jean's big, swollen, stiff-knobbed nipples. "I b'lieve that gal's in heat."
"I believe, you're right, Sarah," Amelia chuckled.
It was true. When Ned had ripped off her uniform, her half-slip and her panties, he found that her blonde cunt hair was wet, and an exploratory finger came out of her tight slit all hot and sticky with goo.
"Well now," Ned panted, rubbing her big, white, round, pink-tipped tits with his open palms and stroking her trembling belly with his hairy balls and asscheeks, "you're ready too, ain'tcha, gal?"
Amy Jean tried to scream "No! No!" again but it was no use. It was like she had no strength left in her body. All she could do was lie there limp while Ned slid down and spread her curvy legs. As he rubbed the fuzzy lips of her slippery pussy slit with the head of his big slick dick, her tits heaved up and down like pulsating balloons, and her arms just twitched uselessly at her sides even though Ned wasn't holding them down at the time.
"Stick it in her, Ned!" Lonny said.
"Yeah, sock it to her, Ned!" said Tim.
Ned grinned, gripped Amy Jean's legs under the knees, lifting and spreading them wide. He was on his knees on the first step below the landing. Without using his hands he jockied his cockhead into her cunt, and Amy Jean just lay there panting, tense all over and with her eyes tightly shut but not struggling a bit.
"Here it comes, baby," Ned said, and with a couple of powerful thrusts rammed his cock about a third of its length into the bore of her cunt.
Hm? he thought, pausing.
"Ahhhhhgggggg!" Amy Jean cried, but you couldn't tell if it was a cry of agony or ecstasy.
Ned drove in a little further and paused again. Then he rammed it on in, all the way in, and Amy Jean screamed again. Well, I'll be goddamned, Ned thought. "How come you didn't tell me, Amy Jean?" he asked.
She stared up at him for a minute, her nostrils flaring, her mouth open, her tits red with the rash of lust, and then she grabbed him by the hair with both hands and pulled his face to her heaving chest.
"Oh, Ned!" she gasped, and her hips began to pump hard against his and they both started snarling and growling and fucking like wild animals.
"Yee-ha!" cheered Mr. Billy, and his cock started getting hard again.
Pork was still sitting in the spot where he'd fallen when his aunt had knocked him down without even noticing him. He had been lying there when the others came rushing out of the apartment. They had all jumped over him just like he wasn't there, except for Mrs. Prescott who had stepped on him like he was a log. But even she hadn't noticed him.
He felt utterly dejected and left out. Nobody loved him. They hated him because he was fat. Well, he'd fix them. He'd fix them good this time. He'd tell his mom and dad, that's what he'd do. Right now!
That was when Amelia remembered him. She grabbed Peggy and whispered in her ear.
"Oh," Peggy said, looking back at the fat kid. She grinned. "Okay."
Pork was just about to get up and run home when he saw Peggy walking toward him. Slowly ... her naked tits bobbing seductively ... hips swaying ... half-closed eyes ... smiling lips....
Oh my gosh, he thought.
"Hi," Peggy said, sitting down beside him and running her fingers through his hair. Pork swallowed.
"Hey, I didn't mean to snub ya the other day, honey," Peggy said, rubbing a nipple against his chubby little arm. "I was just sort of in a hurry. But I got plenty of time now."
She unbuttoned his shirt. His fat little heart was beating like a triphammer as she slid her hand down over his stomach to his crotch.
"Still wanta fuck me?" she asked softly.
Pork tried to say, "Gosh, yeah!" but nothing came out, so he just nodded his head.
"Good," Peggy said, already unbuckling his belt, and in a moment she had his pants and undershorts off. "Hey, you got a nice one!" she said, bending over to give Pork's sausage a couple of sucks. "Mrnmmmm!" The stubby little thing was hard as a brick. She licked her lips and sat up, smiling. "Lie down, I'll get on top."
Pork did what she said, his whole body trembling with love, and Peggy mounted him, rubbing her wet pussy on his bare belly. Then she bent over and cupped one tit in her hand, offering the hard little nipple to his panting lips. "Wanta suck?"
Pork sucked. He sucked so violently, so hungrily that Peggy couldn't even pull loose. She laughed and let him suck while she reached down and worked his dick into her pussy. She had hardly started to hump when he came.
"Um!-mum!-mum!-mum!-" Squirt! squirt! squirt!
"Oh, shoot it to me, sugar!" Peggy squealed, trying not to giggle.
"Talk about a jackrabbit," said Lonny, who had turned around to see what Amelia was looking at.
Pork pumped his whole load into Peggy's cunt without once breaking his suction-grip on her nipple. In the middle of his orgasm his aunt got off too.
"I-! I'm-! I'm cummin'! Uh! Cummin'! Uh! Cum-!"
"Me too, baby!" Ned grunted. "Uhn! Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!...."
They both came so strongly that their mingled juices overflowed her spasming cunt and dripped down through the floorboards of the landing onto Mr. Billy's desk, and for years his ledgers bore those splatter marks of passion.
Afterward, when they were able to talk again, Ned whispered in Amy Jean's ear that she was a damn fine piece of ass.
"Thanks," she panted, hugging him with her arms and legs.
"I shoulda raped you a long time ago."
"Yeah!" she gasped.
"So how come you never told me you wasn't no virgin, Amy Jean?"
"I didn't think you'd wanta marry me."
"Well ... I don't reckon I would of, before Mizz Amelia and Peggy moved in."
"But, Ned?"
"Yeah?"
"I ain't never been fucked like that!"
So that was what happened the first night of the party. They all slept in a cozy huddle in Amelia's living room, and in the morning Amy Jean and Ned and Pork went to church. They didn't want to but Amelia insisted. She said it would create suspicion if they didn't show up, and besides, it would give Amy Jean a chance to arrange with Pork's parents for the boy to spend a few more days with her.
After church the party got under way again. Amy Jean was half undressed before she even got upstairs, and Tim and Lonny jumped her as she came through the door. With Pork's help they wrestled her into a sandwich with Lonny fucking her in the ass while Tim fucked her in the cunt. She squealed and giggled at first, until Pork straddled her face and made her suck him off while the other two boys screwed her.
Now that Pork had had a piece of Peggy he wasn't madly in love with her any more. He still liked to fuck her, of course, but he liked to fuck Amy Jean and Amelia too. Amy Jean wasn't the jealous bitch she had been, either, and to prove it she got Peggy into a threebee with her and Ned that afternoon. This little bout took some delightfully curious turns. At one point, for instance, Amy Jean found herself and Ned taking turns eating Peggy's pussy. Sometimes they both had their tongues in her at the same time.
After supper that night old Sarah finally backed Ned into a corner and raped him. To get the full benefit out of that wonderful young cock of his, she not only sucked it and fucked it but she made him run it up her asshole as well. Sarah didn't give up fucking the dog, but it was no longer an obsession with her.
The next day, or perhaps the next, they made a daisy chain out on the upstairs porch. They all remembered this later as the high point of the week-long orgy.
It began with Amelia crawling up behind Tim, who was on his hands and knees, and sticking her tongue into his asshole. Amy Jean came out for a little sun and, seeing what was going on, squatted down in front of her future brother-in-law with her bare ass in his face.
"Do that to me, Tim," she said. "I wanta see what it feels like."
Tim said okay and stuck his tongue into Amy Jean's asshole.
"Eeeeeee-yiiii!" she squealed. "Mm, mm, mm, mm, mm-!"
When Lonny came out to see what was going on, Amy Jean was on her hands and knees in front of Tim, who was on his hands and knees in front of Amelia. Tim pulled his tongue out of Amy Jean's ass long enough to suggest that Lonny do the same thing to Amelia. Lonny said okay, but he had a different idea. Instead of sticking his tongue into Amelia's asshole he stuck his dick into it.
About that time Mr. Billy and Sarah stepped out for some fresh air. "I'll swan," Sarah said, and Mr. Billy asked, "Whuh'cha call this here?" Amelia freed her tongue and told him it was a daisy chain. "A whut?" asked Mr. Billy.
"Come on and get in, y'all!" Amy Jean said, grabbing Mr. Billy by the ankle.
In a minute they had curved the chain around in a semicircle and Mr. Billy was lying on his back in front of Amy Jean, who was sucking his gigantic cock for all she was worth while Tim tongued her asshole and fingered her cunt. Sarah was on her knees astraddle Mr. Billy's face, jerking her old but strong hips as he slurped her shaggy crack. She was about to close the circle by trying to get her tongue into Lonny's asshole, when Ned showed up. It wouldn't have been easy that way, because Lonny's butt was humping pretty vigorously. Sarah might have got her nose broken.
"Hey, lemme get in here somewhere," Ned said.
"Right here, sonny!" Sarah said, and Ned ended up on his back between her and Lonny, with his cock in Sarah's mouth, his head between Lonny's and Amelia's legs, and his tongue in Amelia's bushy cunt. Amelia really enjoyed that-a little prick in her ass and a big tongue in her cunt.
Everything was humping and slurping along nicely when Peggy woke up from her nap and joined the crowd on the porch. Seeing Tim tongue-fucking Amy Jean, Peggy said, "That looks good. Do it to me, willya, sugar?" And she butted in between Amy Jean and Tim, wiggling her golden young ass in the boy's face.
"Hey!" Amy Jean protested. "Who's gonna do me?"
"I'll do ya," Peggy said, and she slipped her tongue into Amy Jean's anus as Tim slipped his into hers.
That turned Amy Jean on so much that she started to cum after just a few strokes. Lonny came next, and his cum spurted into her rectum while Ned's snake-like tongue lashed at her swollen clit made Amelia get off too. But she didn't let her orgasm interrupt her tonguework on Tim or the handjob she was giving his prick, and pretty soon he filled her palm with hot cum.
The first blast of Mr. Billy's orgasm knocked Amy Jean's mouth from his cock, but the suppleness of her spine apparently prevented whiplash from resulting, and a moment later she had her lips clamped hard around the neck of the discharging monster, gulping down the cum as fast as the old man could pump it up. Sarah came next, and then Peggy, and then they all collapsed out there and got sunburned. All but Amelia and Peggy, that is.
This was the sort of thing that characterized those eight days of celebration. Everyone was fair game and any game was fair. It was fuck and be fucked. One day near the end of it Ned and Amy Jean went out for about a half-hour and came back married. Ned felt so good that he grabbed Mr. Billy's jug of busthead and took a big pull. He thought it would be all right since he hadn't had anything to drink all day.
"Sonny, I don't reckon you oughter-" Mr. Billy began, but he was too late.
When Ned came to three days later he was surprised to find that Amelia, Peggy and Peter the Great were gone.
It was early Monday morning, a week after the party began. Everybody was asleep except Mr. Billy, who had already opened the store for business. As soon as Ned felt he had some measure of control over his legs, he got dressed and wobbled out of the apartment. He fell twice on his way down the stairs but otherwise was fairly proud of his stability. Of course he didn't know he'd been out three days. You had to know how to drink that busthead. He found Mr. Billy standing out on the sidewalk, his hands in the pockets of his overalls, looking up at the front of the weathered old building in the first bright rays of the rising sun.
"Tried to warn yuh, boy," he said with a grin when he saw Ned staggering weakly down the front steps, holding the rail with one hand and his head with the other.
Ned ignored that. "Where's Peggy and Mizz Amelia?" he asked.
"Gone," Mr. Billy said. "That there dawg too. Reckon we'll have to get Sary one. Y'know, I been a-doing some thinkin', boy. Maybe them fellers is right."
"What?" Ned said.
"About this here re-modlin'."
Ned held his head in both hands and carefully sat down on the steps. "I think I lost ya, Mr. Billy," he said. "Get Mizz Sarah one what?"
"Dawg," said Mr. Billy. "The way I see it, the world was sort a passin' us up. Look at all these here fancy new buildin's." He made a wide sweep with his hand. "And this here ol' place a-settin' smack dab in the middle of 'em. It's like we ain't been a-keepin' up with the times, don't yuh see what I mean, boy?"
"Uh ... yeah, I reckon," Ned said. "But where's Peggy and Mizz Amelia?"
"Gone," Mr. Billy said, spitting a brown stream into the gutter. "Thought I tol' yuh. Musta packed up durin' the night. Weren't no sign of 'em this mornin', anyhow. Well, what do yuh think, boy?"
He made a grand, sweeping gesture that took in the whole front of the old house, but Ned didn't see it because he had his eyes shut. The sun was like a blowtorch. , "Well, I'd say she was the Lone Ranger," he said, "'cept she didn't leave no silver bullet."
Mr. Billy looked down at him. "I think I lost yuh, boy," he said after a minute.
"Never mind," Ned said. "What's this remodlin' you're gonna do, Mr. Billy?"
"You mean, that we're gonna do," the old man corrected him.
Slowly Ned stopped worrying about the disappearance of Peggy and Amelia and began to realize what Mr. Billy was saying. After so stubbornly resisting the neighboring businessmen for so long, could it be that he was giving in at last?
"Okay, Mr. Billy," Ned said, opening his eyes at last, "what's this here remodlin' we're gonna do?"
Mr. Billy spat over his shoulder. "Gonna give 'er a paint job, boy."
"A paint job?" Ned would have laughed if he'd been in better shape. A paint job was not likely to satisfy the modernization committee that wanted him to tear the old house down and replace it with a concrete building. Then he realized it was a good thing he was unable to laugh. It would have hurt Mr. Billy's feelings. He could see that this paint job was a big thing for the old man, a symbol of the amazing sexual revolution that had overhauled his life. Hell, it overhauled mine too, Ned thought. And Mizz Sarah's and Amy Jean's too. Not to mention them kids'.
