Gene O'Hare, sitting in his office loft on the balcony overlooking the main floor of his store, barely heard the British-accented words of Charles Lee, the Chinese jade salesman.
"Really, sir. This is a splendid opportunity to add to O'Hare's growing reputation as one of the West Coast's finest gift shops. We'll give you exclusive distribution rights for the area. We've permitted only two other stores west of the Mississippi to carry the Empress China Jade; they are Nieman-Marcus in Dallas and Gump's in San Francisco. As you know, our company is over two hundred years old, and we have always ..."
The voice droned on. Gene was only vaguely aware of what the salesman was saying. His eyes were focused downstairs, watching the graceful, fluid movements of the tall, slender, Nordic-like Janet Morgan, whose shining hair cascaded down her back. "She looks like one of those Breck Shampoo ads," he mentally said to himself, as the sun backlighted her hair, making it look as though it were radiantly aglow with hidden inner lights. He continued to watch as she held out an expensive bronze antique vase to a middle-aged woman customer, and the movement caused the sun to silhouette the upthrust of her ripe, firm breasts straining against the black and gold silk print dress. Everything about her was notable, he thought. Her mouth was wide and generous, and her lips were full, without blemish. The eyes were a startling Arctic blue, but there was nothing glacierlike about the fires that burned within them. Actually, all things reconsidered, probably breasts and legs were her best features. The breasts were much fuller now than they had been in high school, fuller, riper, firmer ... or at least they appeared to be. The legs were long ... very long ... with gently rounded calves and spectacular thighs that were shown off to good advantage by the silk crepe dress that clung lovingly to them. But then O'Hare mused about it again. "Maybe her best feature is her ass. How very, very sexy those buttocks are ... moving with a life of their own under that dress. Oh, how I would dearly love to buy expensive clothes for her, to dress her, and then ... slowly ... undress her..-.."
Gene came back to reality when the Chinaman closed his presentation book with a sigh of distress and stood.
"I'm sorry," Gene said, sincerely, "I didn't hear what you said."
Charles Lee smiled ruefully. "It was not important, Mr. O'Hare. You obviously have many other things on your mind. Perhaps I should make an appointment for another day?"
For a moment, Gene was angry with himself. He was letting business slip,' all because of his infatuation with Janice Morgan. She had been working for him now over a month and a half, and each day it became more and more difficult to concentrate on business. She had been warmly polite and friendly with him ... but aloof. And that bothered him. He could sense she was not happy with her marriage. He sensed there was something ... some hungry need for something ... within her. He also knew ... beyond a doubt ... that he had a need of her! He had vigorously fucked five different passionate women during the last three weeks, yet he had dreamed of Janice Morgan for four nights running. Each dream had been a wet dream, which gave some indication of his urgency.
As if the dreams at night weren't bad enough, lately there had been the business of sitting up here in his office and staring down at her ... watching Janice's every movement, and daydreaming delicious little fantasies where he knelt between those creamy widespread thighs and paid homage to that hidden pink shrine of love ... or where she lay completely nude beneath him, her eyes glazed in passion, her mouth open and gasping like a fish out of water. These daydreams were occurring with increasing frequency and at the worst times. Like now, when he should have been paying attention to the salesman. After all, the jade collection was going to require a minimum investment of twenty-five thousand dollars of the firm's money. That was a lot of cash ... too much to permit oneself to daydream about screwing the hired help.
Gene stood and eased the Chinaman back into his chair. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lee. As you suggested, I have had other things on my mind. However, that doesn't influence my decision. I'm honored that Empress China Jade would consider O'Hare's important enough to be included with Gump's and Nieman-Marcus. If you and I can come to some arrangement concerning inventory and special orders and display space, we would very much like to become one of your distributors."
The two men smiled and nodded at each other, then settled down to work out the many details. It was after five when they finally hammered out the last agreement concerning the amount of insurance to be carried and the type of safety vault to be installed.
When he had been left alone finally, Gene glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that it was closing time, and that a heavy fog had crept into the city sometime during the last two hours. As though some silent bell had rung, Dorothy, the manageress, pulled the shade at the front door and began turning off the store lights. Gene saw her pause, frown at something out of place in the display window, and then make some minor adjustment ... straightening the item ... before turning on the nightlights in the window. A moment later, three of the girls waved up to him from the door and disappeared into the fog.
Gene twisted his head and glanced at the mirror which served as an inverted periscope permitting him to watch the main counter and come down to help if the girls became too busy. The setup also allowed the girls to know where he was in case someone wanted him for something. The one glance now showed Janice standing beside the cash register, filing the charge slips for the day. He felt a familiar tingling sensation at the head of his cock, and suddenly his throat was dry and his heart hammering because he knew that he was going to ask her to stay behind tonight when the others left. It was with a sense of detached amusement that he saw his hand actually trembling when he reached for the store telephone. "Christ," he chided himself, "you're acting like a scared junior high school kid asking a girl out for his first date." Gene knew, however, that he felt more than just fright. There was the element of uncertainty, together with an overwhelming feeling of anticipation. How would she react? Maybe she had other plans? She had been aloof ... not unfriendly, but standoffish ... ever since she came to work. Did she dislike him for what he. had done eight years ago? She had been very fond of him when she was a senior in high school and he a junior at San Jose State College. And, after all, she was married. Could a hot fire extinguished for eight years be rekindled?
Watching her through the mirror, Gene punched the intercom button on the telephone. He saw Janice start in surprise as the shrill buzzer shattered the stillness of the store. She laid down the charge slips and picked up the telephone.
Her voice, when it came over the line, merely increased his desire, even though all she said was, "Yes, sir?" A slight weariness had made her voice just a bit hoarse, and the whispered quality was like velvet against the head of his prick.
"Janice," he began, and chose his words carefully, "could you stay for a couple of minutes tonight? I'd like to discuss something with you."
In the mirror, he saw puzzlement cross her face, but it was a momentary thing ... and quickly followed by a noncommittal expression. "Yes ... I can stay if you need me," she said.
"Fine. Come on up to the office when you finish." He hung up the receiver, then leaned back in his chair and began rocking to and fro slowly. Mentally now, the uncertainty was gaining the upper hand. He had known instinctively for over a month that sooner or later he was going to try to seduce her, but he had planned to do it in sur-roundings more conducive to seduction. Soft lights, soft music, booze, a dance or two, and conversation. Well, maybe that's the way it will be anyway. Maybe I'll ask her to have dinner with me. And if she refuses? He couldn't bear to think about that! No, it wouldn't happen. He was glib enough to have her go at least to dinner with him, and have the invitation look as if it were strictly business. He might not be able to talk her into bed tonight, but over dinner ... yes, even if she was married.
Impatiently, he watched as first Dorothy and then the remaining girl left. A few moments later, he heard Janice's high heels climbing up the stairs to his loft.
When she came into his office, Gene stood, walked around the desk, and pulled out a low, Swedish leather chair for her. She paused for a moment, standing silently and expectantly next to him, her head cocked to one side questioningly. Her eyes were on a level with his eyes, her mouth on a level with his. Suddenly, in his brain, it was as though a photoflash bulb had been shot off illuminating a scene, for Gene abruptly remembered her standing next to him one day eight summers ago.
Her parents had gone to Yosemite on a Vacation, leaving Janice behind. They necked in the front room, then ... hearts pounding ... they were in her bedroom, the first time he had ever made it into this no-man's-land. The room was hot for she had earlier, and with forethought, pulled down the shades, shutting off the flow of air. They kissed, they nuzzled, and their hands sought the warmth of each other's body. Their outer clothes were soon on a heap on the floor, followed shortly by their undergarments. Kisses grew wilder, more urgent, as his middle finger teased along the desire-wet cuntal lips. Her hand had tremblingly encircled his painfully throbbing prick, and then they had lain down side by side ... face to face, tongue-kissing. Her hand regained the stroking rhythm on his cock, and he felt as if he were going out of his mind with joy. His finger working in contact-with her clitoris had brought a loud gasping moan, of relief bubbling from her lips. At the same moment his prick had swollen like a sun in the first stage of novating, and then spat its hot load of semen all over her naked young belly and breasts. He had sought entry to her vagina, but she refused. The next afternoon, the scene had been repeated, with only one variation: this time Janice had pressed his spurting cock against the lips of her excitedly twitching pussy and held it there until it had stopped its heavy throbbing. That evening, returning from a drive-in theater, she actually permitted him to make a penetration as far as her hymen and let him cum there just up inside her. Gene had known, instinctively, that the next time she would urge him to go all the way. But that time had been the last timo- Gene went home from her house to find am ambulance flashing its red semaphore of dread outside his house. Three days later, without ever regaining consciousness, his father finally died ... and O'Hare's Store with all its awesome responsibilities had been exclusively his. The morning following his father's funeral, he was forced to fly to New York on imperative business. He promised Janice to write or call every day, but his days were filled with merchandising meetings ... and his evenings were unexpectantly, but pleasantly, taken care of by a hot little Brandeis University co-ed who, within three hours of meeting him had given him his first blow job. On subsequent nights she taught him some of the more refined variations of exotic sex ... East Coast style. So busy was he that Gene never did get around to writing or telephoning. His duties kept him in New York for over a month and a half. Return to San Sebastiano had not been until mid-September, and by that time a hurt and bewildered Janice, in order to keep her pride, had begun dating Dan Morgan, a city fireman. One look at Janice's defiant, guilty expression and Dan's overly protective, overbearing attitude, and Gene had known that the gift she had once offered him had been gladly taken by another male.
Now, as if reading his thoughts, Janice suddenly blushed. Some of her cool poise left her as she sat down. The chair was one of those typical black leather and chrome steel Swedish pieces of furniture that look sleek and feel comfortable, but were never designed for women who wear miniskirts. It was really much too low for any female to sit properly. The seat, instead of sloping upward at a slight angle, actually was parallel with the floor. That meant that knees were higher than the buttocks, and skirts slipped up to an alarming degree. A long-legged female really had problems. Janice's blush deepened when she realized that a frilly black lace garter belt proudly framing cream-colored inner thighs could plainly be seen above the tops of her sheer nylons. She tugged her hem and the delicious golden flesh disappeared from Gene's view. As brief a time as it was, though, the sight was enough to start Gene's prick crawling in urgent desire.
He went around behind his own desk and sat down. Just as he had suspected, the view from here was even better. It was quite impossible for her to hide everything. He tried to appear nonchalant, but her bare upper thighs and Ming yellow and black, lace panties were there before him, like visions seen dimly in a warm and inviting cave or an unlighted art gallery.
Janice had grown uncomfortable under his glance, and now two glowing red spots of embarrassment appeared on her cheekbones. She was the first to break the silence. "What ... what was it you wanted to see me about, Mr. O'Hare?"
He laughed. "Mr. O'Hare. Ah ... come on now! I'm Gene. Remember?" Here again he was breaking a long-established rule. All of the women employees had always addressed him as they had addressed his fattier, as "Mr. O'Hare." Gene had never encouraged any of them to call him by his first name, thus his father's tradition had continued.
The invitation did not put Janice at ease, if anything it seemed to add to her uncertainty. She didn't answer, however, merely sat there patiently waiting for him to explain why this meeting had been called.
Gene was beginning to feel foolish about the sit- uation, foolish and a little angry at his own unexpected lack of savoir faire. Finally he leaned back in his chair, put hands together, and made a temple out of his fingertips. "I wanted to see you, Janice, to find out how things are going ... to see if you're happy here at the store. I mean, you've been here a month and a half now. Are you ... ah ... satisfied with working conditions ... "
That did it, he thought. She visibly relaxed, and now a tremulous smile skipped across her face. She sat back in the chair, but not forgetting to tug at the rebellious hemline again.
"Everything's fine," she said, huskily. "I'm very happy here."
"That's great. No complaints at all?" She shook her head from side to side, and her yellow hair moved like golden seaweed doing a slow ballet with the tide. "Everything's just fine," she repeated.
Gene smiled at her, thinking again how fabulous her body was. It was true, beyond a doubt, that the eight summers since they had lain together as children had ripened her like good wine. Her breasts were fuller, her legs more finely honed. Her hair was longer, but it was the same rich color. It was her color, her true color ... and he knew it was perfectly matched by a golden mink pelt that thrived in that warm smooth flesh above her pussy. "How I would love to bury my face in that fur now, to feel its softness tickling my nose to use my tongue on that sweet cunt!" Gene thought. Once again, something in his expression had given him away, and Janice tensed and blushed once more. She seemed almost to have attempted to push herself deeper into the chair, as if she were a beautiful wild animal frightened by li- the approach of man.
Gene decided to use another tactic. He threw up his hands, palms upward, and gave her his most boyish smile. "Look. I lied to get you up here. I knew everything was going okay with you at the store. I've been watching you." And he mentally added, with a pain in his groin, "Love, if you only knew how much, how often, I've been watching..."
Something happened to her face. The aloofness evaporated and there was just the slightest suggestion of a smile pulling up one corner of her mouth. A dimple appeared, quivered, disappeared.
Gene said, "Well ... damnit! I don't know how to say this. Frankly ... I was lonely. I wanted to talk to someone ... no, not 'someone,' you!"
"All right," she said softly, almost inaudibly.
"Are you happy?" he blurted out, and immediately mentally kicked himself for jumping the gun.
Janice saved it for him, though. She said, as if she didn't understand, "I'm very happy here."
He backed off and tried again. "There's something bothering me. Why did you come to work here? I would have thought you'd be ... ah ... ah..."
"Embarrassed?"
He nodded.
She smiled sadly. "I was in the beginning. I guess I still am. I needed a job, though ... and it was either here or the telephone company. I just couldn't see being cooped all day in a building and talking to people over the telephone ... never seeing them ... you know, sort of being disembodied, a human computer thing..." She shrugged. "Besides, O'Hare's pays more than the phone company, and I don't have to drive fifteen miles each way to work."
"You said you were still embarrassed. Why?" She looked directly at him. "I don't know." It sounded like the truth, probably was the truth. "Because of what we did before?" He held his breath. It could all go wrong here if she hated him.
She thought about it for a second, then shook her head. "No. There was nothing wrong about what we did together. It's natural, I guess. We were young. We didn't do anything bad."
"Because of me, then? Not writing? Or calling?"
She shrugged again. "If you'd felt strongly enough about the situation, you would have called." There was something in her voice that sounded as if she didn't believe her own statement, and an echo of a half-forgotten pain.
They both sat in silence for a moment, then Gene repeated his earlier question. "Are you happy ... "
"Dan is a very fine man."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Once again there was that direct stare at him, only this time Gene thought he saw a trace of mistiness in her eyes together with just a hint of hurt and bewilderment. She swallowed, and then, abruptly, she stood. "I think I'd better go," she said without warning.
Quickly Gene stood up and came around his desk. "No. Don't go. Please? I'm sorry if I... if I intruded."
She refused to look at him now, and he knew that somehow or another he had probed into a painful area for her ... an area she would not and could not discuss with anyone. And he knew, too, that she was terribly vulnerable.
For a split second Gene had an almost irrepressible desire to reach out and cup her lovely, down-turned chin in his hand and turn her face toward him. That, though, would be a little too familiar; besides, he wasn't sure he would be able to control himself if he did do that. Her lips would be slightly parted; he'd try to kiss her, and that might really screw up the deal.
"Look," he said with false brightness, "I got off to a bad start. Let's have a drink, and I promise not to butt in on your personal life again." He didn't wait for her answer, merely walked over to the waist-high, ebony bar and stood behind it. "What'll you have?"
Janice looked indecisive. Twice she glanced toward the street as if weighing the advisability of leaving. Then she turned to him and nodded quickly. "Just one."
"Right. What's your favorite? I make the best martini in the entire state."
She dimpled. "You always were a braggart, O'Hare. But I'll try one." She walked to the bar and stood watching him.
Neither spoke as he mixed the cocktail and swirled it in the ice. There was a new feeling of warmth between them ... caused probably by their proximity and the fact that both were standing now ... and thus equals ... separated only by a counter.
He poured the martinis into two frosted cocktail glasses, then expertly twisted a piece of lemon peel over each and placed an olive in them. Gene held up his glass in a toast, "To old times," he said, and for a second he thought he had made another mistake.
Finally, Janice touched her glass to his. She sipped then nodded. "Ummm. Good."
There is something about the chemical amalgamation of good gin and dry vermouth that almost immediately dissolves any reticence between a man and woman. Thus it was that within a couple of minutes Janice and Gene were chatting away comfortably. They discussed old-friends, kids they had known in high school, young marrieds who had split apart or remained together, movies, the theater, and music. And through it all ... watching her, listening to her ... Gene felt a growing sense of astonishment. It was as though she were starved for conversation ... as though she were indescribably alone ... as though she had been cast away on some flyspeck of an island by herself with no one to talk to for years. But his own reaction to her presence amazed him even morel He found himself running emotionally with her, traversing peaks and gullies of joy and sorrow at the world. His rampant desire had been muted momentarily; it was as though some vague, barely understood, metamorphosis had occurred and he no longer wanted to "fuck" her ... but to make slow and gentle love to her. It was a feeling he had seldom experienced.
If Janice noticed when he went back around behind the bar to mix another martini, she did not give any indication of refusal. The second martini called for cigarettes midway through the drink, and a mellow mood of warm reflective silence came upon them.
She had almost finished her second drink when Gene said, "I'm sorry." Janice blinked and tilted her head to one side.
"Sorry? For what?"
"For not calling or writing when I went to New York that time."
Janice looked down and twirled the stem of her glass between her long slender fingers. She stared at the brittle reflection of her diamond engagement ring, at the muted gold of her wedding band. She shrugged and said in a voice so low that it was difficult to hear her exact words, "No need to be sorry. You ... and I... we didn't have any understanding. You were free... I was, too." She continued to stare at her rings.
"Were we?"
She didn't answer.
Almost automatically, without thinking about what he was doing, Gene began mixing another batch of martinis. No sound came from the fog-enshrouded streets outside; the only noise was a thin tinkling as ice cubes swirled around inside the glass container. He poured.
Janice took a deep sigh, then smiled wryly. "No more after this," she said, and then reached over for one of the unused, tall bar stools and pulled it over toward her. She didn't sit on it completely, merely used part of the black leather bucket seat to rest her buttocks against. She glanced down, then lifted one heel and locked it on the bottom rung of the stool. The other foot remained firmly planted on the floor. It was a pose of complete relaxation, but it was also an extremely revealing one for the man on the other side of the bar.
Gene had to force his eyes away from her legs and thighs. There was something terribly sensual about the way she sat there ... one leg on the floor, the other slightly spread and lifted from the floor. He could walk right up there between those legs, and use his hips and thighs to spread them even further. The treasure was there, still hidden, but oh so beautifully evident!
Surprisingly, it was Janice who got really personal first. She held out a cigarette for him to light, then blew smoke across the bar. Without warning, she asked, "Why haven't you ever married, Gene?"
The question threw him momentarily. Finally he said, "I never considered marrying anyone but you." Actually, it was the truth. When the two of them had been going together that summer, he had been so enamored of her body that he was willing to marry her ... had planned to ask her to marry him. But then he had discovered the joys and availability of single sex, and marriage faded into insignificance. After all, marriage means sex with one woman, being single means sex with as many women as you can get.
He moved from behind the bar and walked right up next to her. Her skirt had slipped up a bit further, and now he could plainly see the silver snaps holding up her nylons, the little red roses embroidered on her black lace garter belt, and the smooth warm flesh of her upper thighs. It was possible to reach down there right now and cup the soft silken triangle of her vagina in his hand, without even touching her skirt. The vision of doing that caused his prick to stir from its uneasy slumber. Life-giving blood pounded through the veins and arteries of his maledom, and the cock began to elongate and thicken. "You were the only one," he said, softly.
"Don't lie to me, Gene," she said, and it was a combination of an order and a plea.
"I'm not lying. I never considered marrying anyone but you." He stared at her, defying her to correct him, putting as much sincerity in his gaze as he could.
Janice blinked, her lips parted slightly, and she swallowed with difficulty. "Don't say that then. Not even if it is the truth." Then she turned her face away, refusing to look at his direct gaze any longer, and stared at an abstract painting behind the bar. The movement caused her dress to pull in tighter at the bodice and her breasts seemed to strain against the confinement. Gene's eyes feasted on the mouth-watering sight and his erection grew even more powerful. It was all he could do at the moment to keep from running his hands up and down those smooth, nylon-encased inner thighs, all he could do to keep from bending forward and kissing that graceful curve of her neck ... all he could do to keep from gently pushing her golden hair back from those shell-like ears and nibbling at the tiny, sensitive lobes.
He had actually begun to bend forward when Janice turned back to him. "Damn you," she said, and this time misery and anger were both fighting for domination of her eyes. "Damn you! Why didn't you call? I waited and I waited ... and I waited. I wanted you so much." Tears welled up and muted the blue of her eyes. "I thought I was going to die when you left, I wanted you so badly. Then you didn't call ... or write. I cried and I cried and I cried, and, finally, I kind of died, I guess." She sniffed and used the back of her wrist to wipe away one tear. "Then Mom said I was a fool and I should start dating other fellows. I did. I accepted a date with Dan. That first night... he didn't ask, or anything. He just took ... and I let him take whatever he wanted. After all, no one else wanted it." A convulsive sob shook her body'.
Without saying a word, Gene carefully reached over, removed the lighted cigarette from her fingers, and crushed it out in the ashtray. Then he took her martini glass. They stared at each other and then with a groan, he stepped forward between her knees and put his arms around her.
"No ... no," she began, but her words were cut off as his eager mouth clamped on hers. The feel of her lips, the taste of her mouth served as a catalyst in Gene's sperm-bloated balls. A new and more violent surge of blood caused his cock to rise within its Jockey shorts cloth cage; and now, as he ground his pelvis up between her legs, he felt all reason, all restraint flow from his body.
"No..." she gasped once more, and the exclamation ended in a low moan as his tongue swam into her mouth. He felt her tongue, trembling, fleeing before his onslaught. Then, imperceptibly at first, she began to respond. The low moan was wrenched from the depths of her soul, and her arms snaked around his shoulders pulling him in closer to her. Their tongues fought a pitched battle for supremacy, then she acknowledged defeat and permitted his tongue to move in and out of her mouth as though it were some incredibly small, overly excited penis.
Gene began using his hands to stroke her back. At first he concentrated oh a point just above and inward from the shoulder blades ... where he knew the erogenous breastbands lay. Then he moved down to a point on the back just above the fullness of her buttocks ... massaging gently, kneading with his fingertips. And all the while he was grinding his straining cock against the softness of her pubic vee.
She began trembling and moaning low in her throat as Gene's hungrily searching hands moved freely over her back. It was not until he cupped her right breast in his palm that she tried to pull away and protest. The objection lasted less than twenty seconds, and then she seemed to move in even closer to him. During it all their tongues played ... chasing, darting, hiding, stroking each other. Gene's left hand moved gently up the back of her dress and found the zipper. He tugged at it, and the soft whisper was lost in her moan. Using his left hand only, he expertly unsnapped her bra. She stiffened when she felt the sudden release of pressure against her breasts, and attempted to shake her head. Gene paid no heed to her unspoken protest Quickly, as though he were unwrapping a priceless artifact, he peeled the black and gold, silk crepe material back from her left shoulder. The dress now hung suspended by her left breast and her right shoulder. Then, and only then, did his mouth leave hers.
"Gene ... we can't..." she began, but then closed her eyes in rapture as his tongue began tracing a wild pattern of sensation down her neck and across her shoulder. Lower, lower his mouth moved until he felt her bra cup against his chin. He simply reached up and pulled it loose. Her white breast, like a full harvest moon, was there before his eyes. He had been right. She did have bigger tits now than she had at eighteen. In the middle of the areola, her erect nipple stood like a brown ivory temple. With a loud groan of hunger, his voracious mouth fastened itself wetly. on the succulent mound of flesh. His groan was echoed by her moan, and tremulously, her hands came up and cupped his head, holding it there in reverence and unconcealed pleasure.
"Gene ... oh, Gene," she said, over and over again as his teeth nibbled at the nipple, and his mouth and tongue played havoc with the passion-inflamed nerve ends. After a moment, he reached up with his other hand and slowly pulled down the right bra cup. His devouring mouth moved over to that side, leaving the left tit shining with his saliva. Now Janice's dress was held up only by her right shoulder, and she made only a token protest when he slipped the dress all the way down to her waist. Both shoulders were bare and her magnificent breasts were revealed to his eyes for the first time in eight years.
Abruptly, his mouth left her breasts and worked its way upward once more. They kissed savagely, and her own hunger was so great that her teeth actually bit into his lips. It was then that Gene began kissing her shoulders again and stepped back slightly. His hand worked at his belt and waist snap, then his trousers dropped down around his knees. He fished for a second, looking for the opening in his Jockey shorts, then reached in and pulled out his cock. The touch of his own hand was almost enough to cause an explosion.
He shuffled forward slightly and his cock scraped against the silken smoothness of her nylons before coming into contact with the warm flesh of her upper thighs. Janice jumped as though someone had touched her with an electric cattle prod when she felt the hot rigid shaft graze her sensitive inner thighs. She actually used her hands to shove his mouth away from her shoulders, sought to rise from the barstool, and said in a loud groan of dismay, "Stop... Gene, stop," Gene silenced her protests the only way he knew how, by planting his mouth over hers again. As he savagely tongue-kissed her, he used his left hand to manipulate her breast, kneading it and capturing the naked nipple between his middle fingers. Now he planted both feet firmly on the ground, standing between her outspread knees. His right hand dropped and sought ... and found ... the Ming yellow panties trimmed with black lace around the legs. There was no elastic band at the legs, and the slight gap provided easy access for his middle and index fingers. With the first touch of his middle finger against her hot, moistened cuntal lips, Janice's vaginal mouth reacted like a fish trying to shake a hook. He was forced to use his left hand to hold her captive. She pushed against him, seeking freedom, making noises of protest, but he had no intention of releasing her. His index finger abruptly came in contact with her clitoris, and the fight suddenly seemed to leave her. Crooning incoherently, she settled back on the barstool and actually lifted her pelvis to give him greater access to the quivering little nerve between her legs. "Oh ... oh ..." she breathed.
His middle finger wormed smoothly into the wet vaginal opening and began slipping gently, but persistently, in and out. He continued to use his index finger to excite her clitoris. Each inward movement was rewarded by a sigh of pleasure. She was his. She was completefy subservient to his wishes now, he thought. The pressure within his cock had become unbearable; he had to put it inside her. He would die if he didn't. Her breath was coming rapidly, in puppy-dog-like pants. His own breathing was hoarse and raspy. He had to put his cock into her cunt! Now!
Gene removed his fingers from the soft buttery warmth and then used both hands to pull at her panties so that he could uncover the wetly throbbing cuntal lips beneath. For a second she refused to rise from the barstool, making it impossible to lower them. But then, as though she really had no control over herself, Janice did lift her buttocks slightly. Impatiently, Gene pulled at them and they slipped down over her magnificently rounded buttocks ... and down ... to about mid-thigh, where she seemed to have come to her senses again. "No..," she said, firmly, squirming her backside hard down against the black leather. Gene, frustrated, pushed forward and his throbbing cock touched, for the first time, the pink, moist flesh of her heated vaginal lips. An indescribable jolt of pleasure shot through his groin with that first contact. He pushed again, and his prick slid along the entire length of her cunt. Involuntarily, Janice spread her legs further apart. There was a ripping sound as the elastic waistband of her panties broke around her thighs. Her golden sable of pubic hair at the base of her belly was hidden almost entirely by the black lace garter belt, but the pussy itself, in all its glory, was there for the taking. Her cuntal lips, swollen with urgent desire, twitched excitedly against the hotly pulsating head of his cock.
He had begun swaying forward up between her legs in preparation for entry, when Janice cried out in fright, "No ... oh, God! NO!" This time, though, she meant it, and her body and the elusive, prize of her passion-moistened pussy twisted away from him. She actually ran toward his desk, and the motion caused the dress to slip down almost to her knees before she caught it. The sight of her supple globes of buttock flesh, the dark and inviting crevice between the cheeks of her ass, the back of the garter belt and the back of her nylon-encased legs almost drove Gene insane with desire. He started toward her.
"No!" she ordered, loudly. "Stay away, Gene. Please stay away!" And even as she was speaking, she was frantically yanking up her dress. Before he could cross even half the room, she had pulled it up and covered her breasts and shoulders.
"Janice," he croaked, and his voice, thick with desire, sounded alien even to his own ears. "Come back."
She stood at the top of the stairs, her breast rising and falling as though she had run a hundred-yard dash, while she sought to refasten her bra and zipper. "Don't, Gene. Don't come any closer."
"What's wrong?" he demanded, beginning to feel foolish standing there practically nude with his erect cock throbbing and jerking with each beat of his heart.
"For one thing... I'm a married woman." She closed her eyes and shook her head as if to clear it of vapors. "I am ... I was a decent woman." She swallowed and the sound of her moisture sliding down her desire tightened throat could be heard across the room. "I've never done anything like this. I won't betray my husband."
"I want you," he said, and his hand dropped to the length of his throbbing cock. He held it, pointed it at her. "Look at me. I ... want ... you!" He almost shouted the words.
She stared at his penis for a second, seemingly hypnotized by the sight of the white fleshy rod which she knew could bring so much pleasure and soothe her aching loins. There was a starved expression on her face, but she repeated, "I'm a married woman, Gene."
"And I'm a man ... who wants you ... more than anything else in the world."
She closed her eyes and sobbed, "God help me! I want you, too. But we can't." Then she was running down the stairs, her high heels drumming out a solo of frightened flight into the night. A moment later, the front door slammed, and she was gone into the fog.
Helplessly, and in pain from the intolerable ache in his balls, Gene gazed around his office. So eager had she been to get away from him that she had left her purse and coat. He knew that hadn't been done on purpose, knew also that she wouldn't be back... at least tonight.
There was only one colsolation. Just one! He knew now that he could fuck her, and it was only a matter of time. A very little time! She was so goddamned hot that it was almost unbelievable. He wondered if she had developed nympho tendencies ... or if her husband just didn't take good enough care of her. Jesus! He had come so close; his cock had actually been enfolded by the softness of her pussy hair and her cuntal lips. A slight upward pressure would have slipped it deep into that wonderfully warm and velvet canal, and he knew that once it had gotten in there, she would have been incapable of ever saying no again.
He sighed, then grinned at the state of arousal he was in. He pulled up his jockey shorts and forced his reluctant swollen prick back into its cloth cage. When he was completely dressed, he went to the telephone and dialed a number. "Hello, Marcia," he said. "What're you doing? Had dinner yet?" He smiled. "Fine, I'll be by in about ... ah ... say twenty minutes?"
As he was leaving the store for the night, he shook his head. His erection still had not subsided. His balls still ached. Poor Marcia, he thought. She's going to get a fucking tonight that she'll never forget. She'll be lucky if I don't push that sweet little pussy of hers right through her backbone.
On the street, fog dripped from the trees and made haloes of all the city's lights. He turned up his coat collar and stood outside O'Hare's for just a second, checking the window display. Janice had set this one up; it was done in excellent taste, with a sense of artistry and balance. Abruptly, he knew what was nagging at his consciousness. For a moment he started to grin, then realized it was really something too serious to laugh at. Dan Morgan was going to get the fucking of his life tonight, too. Gene had started the fire, Dan would put it out.
And Gene, always honest with himself, realized that in spite of what Marcia had in store for him, he felt nothing but envy ... and jealousy ... for the fireman.
Chapter 2
The wet cold fog blew in from the Pacific, and each tree and overhanging utility wire dripped water as though a fine rain were falling. Droplets of water shone like tiny seed diamonds on Janice's long blonde hair and black dress. Her breath still came in gasps, her body still trembled. She hurried. There were moments when she even ran for short distances as she attempted to cover the five short blocks home in as fast a time as possible.
San Sebastiano's foggy evenings had always been a source of wonderment and enjoyable mystery to Janice. Ordinarily, it was as though she were wrapped in a comfortable cottony cocoon, and meandering through a magic forest. Tonight though she did not see the black trunks of trees looming up out of the whiteness, nor did she hear the mournful cry of the foghorn sounding like some lonely sea monster crying for its mate. She heard nothing, she saw nothing. Arriving at the gate leading to the little white cottage where she and Dan lived. She attempted to raise the latch and broke one of her longest fingernails back all the way to the quick. It should have been an extremely painful injury, but she felt nothing. Her body, her mind, had activated some protective defensive mechanism to keep her from feeling the ache, the raging fire and lonely void throbbing up between her legs. So powerful was that vaginal longing that the body simply had to numb itself completely ... or go mad with unfulfilled desire.
The cottage was dark; that meant Dan was having his usual three or four beers with the boys at the Green Lantern before coming home to slop up his dinner and then sit before the television until he went asleep. For once, she was grateful that he wasn't there. She couldn't face him ... not yet.
Janice had difficulty getting her key in the lock, then realized that she was trying to put it in upside down. The door swung open, she went inside and immediately began turning on every light in the house. She wanted no darkness here, she needed the comfort of mil illumination, as though it would drive the shadows away from her mind.
It took every particle of self-control to keep from thinking about what had happened back at the office. Firmly, she made herself begin dinner. She went about the tasks automatically: Remove steak from the refrigerator to warm up to room temperature. Potatoes scrubbed and in the oven. Lettuce washed and returned to the crisper to chill. Four cans of beer into the refrigerator from the almost empty case to replace those drunk by Dan last night while watching television. Write the word "beer" on the blackboard alongside the other grocery items needed. Water the plants on the win-dowsill. Toss two dirty dish towels into the hamper and add to laundry list.
Finally, there were no other duties to perform, and it was only then that she began to wish that Dan would come home. She urgently needed to talk to someone ... to discuss frivolous, unimportant things ... weather, sports, gossip, politics ... to discuss anything so she would not have to think about what had happened.
Janice forced herself to pick up a dust cloth and begin wiping imaginary bits of dust from the furniture in the front room. There really was nothing to wipe, for she kept a spotless house ... and the job had been done this morning before she went to O'Hare's.
After five minutes of "making work," Janice finally realized that she was being foolish not to call Dan and ask him to come home. Ordinarily, she would never have considered doing such a thing. It had been Dan, himself, who had made the caustic comment some six years ago, "A man is entitled to have a couple of beers with his friends after a hard day's work." Janice, married then less than a year, had felt it was very unfair, but she had learned to keep her mouth shut when Dan was asserting his male rights. Even in those days, however, she wanted to ask him what she was supposed to do, what he would think if she went to the bar for a couple of drinks with "the girls" when she got off work. She had known when she married him that, as a fireman, he would be away from home every other night when he was working his twen-ty-four-on-twenty-four-off, "A" or "B" shifts. She was foolish enough to believe in the beginning that he would spend his off-time around the house. Instead, he chose to work a "C" shift at Borgen's Van and Storage ... working on his days off as a warehouseman. Dan did have some additional time off, two or three bonus days a month but usually that was spent fishing during fishing season, or hunting during the hunting season. As a result, Janice had a husband only from about seven p m. to seven aan. every other day. And even that was not really her time, because Dan usually was asleep by eleven. He ate breakfast every morning at the firehouse, so she never saw him across the table except at dinnertime. Even that companionship was being taken from her, because Dan recently had been wanting to eat his dinner on a tray in front of the television set.
She refused to think about it at the moment; to think about it was to feel sorry for herself... and she was not one of those women who indulge in self-pity. Quickly, then, before she could change her mind, Janice picked up the telephone and called the Green Lantern.
When the phone was answered, Janice asked, "Is Dan Morgan there."
The laughter and noise in the background was suddenly muted, and she realized someone had put a hand over the receiver. Even so, the voice of the bartender, came faintly over the line, "Hey, Dan. You here? A broad wants you. Sounds pretty sexy to me."
After a moment, Dan answered, "Yeah?"
"Dan, it's Jan." she said. "I'm sorry to bother you, but could you come home?"
The noise was muted again, and she heard Dan's far-off voice saying, "Ah, Charlie, you bastard. Why you want to tease me like that? Sexy ... hah! It's just the old lady." Then his voice came back strong, talking to her. "What you want?"
"I have to talk to you."
"What about?"
"I can't discuss it over the telephone. Could you come home... please?"
There was a moment of silence from Dan, as if he were weighing the matter, then grudgingly he answered, "Okay. I'll finish my beer and be there in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Dan." Slowly, she replaced the telephone in its cradle and stood there with her eyes tightly closed. Self-control was rapidly leaving her; she could feel all of her defenses collapsing like a row of dominoes. A trembling had started again in her knees and her eyelids fluttered. "No" she said aloud. "No!" Her remark was directed to her traitorous body which was beginning to regain some of its earlier feeling. Almost as if it had happened only five seconds before, Janice could feel Gene's mouth on her breasts again, and the exquisite sensation as his cock ... like a violin bow ... brought beautiful music to her starved vagina as it slipped back and forth on the strings of her nerve endings down there.
Like a madwoman, she clenched her fists and put both hands up to her mouth. "No No! NO!" And then she was running for the bedroom. Frantically, she stripped off all of her clothes and undergarments and dashed for the shower. The sting of the water spray against her erect and sensitive nipples almost drove her out of her mind. She turned her back to the spray, but that didn't help because she could feel the bite of water on her shoulder blades ... and the softness and warmth as little rivers ran down the crevice of her ass and clung to her still blood-engorged vaginal lips before flowing down her inner thighs. She started to soap herself, but the touch of the slippery warm suds against her body was too much, bringing as it did the memory of semen ... warm wonderful semen eight years ago splashing wetly on her belly. Quickly then, she turned off the water, opened the shower door, and stepped out onto the bath mat. The tufts of the rug's pile slipped between her toes, and it was, unexpectedly, a deep sexual feeling. "Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she reached for the huge white towel. The touch of its thick velour material against her shoulders felt like Gene's smooth face sliding from shoulder to breast. "Oh, God ..." Janice moaned, praying for some release from this intolerable want. She couldn't dry her breasts. To towel them would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. It was the same with her abdomen, her shoulder. Bewildered and confused, her wet body beginning to tremble uncontrollably again, Janice merely stood there ... head bowed as though she were some frightened nude captive being offered for sale on the slave block. She couldn't imagine what had happened to her. Never before had her body reacted this way. Never before had she reached such a fever pitch of desire, of want, of need. It was as though every shred of self-control had deserted her ... fleeing before a tidal wave of lust. She knew she could masturbate to orgasm, but that would do little to put out the fires burning inside her. She needed a man. A man!
And just when it seemed she surely would die she heard the back door open and Dan's voice, "Hey, baby, I'm home."
"Thank God," she whispered. "Thank God ... "
"Hey, where are you?" Dan shouted again, and his heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor leading to the bedroom. Janice dropped the towel and walked, out to meet him.
He threw open the door and stopped, as he saw his wife's nude, wet body standing before him. "Hey, what gives?" His appreciative eyes ran up and down her naked figure.
"Oh, Dan ..." she sobbed, and found herself running across the room to him. She put her arms around him and kissed him hungrily. God, her body was so sensitive, so alive! She could feel his cold belt buckle pressing against her navel, could feel the coarse scratchiness of his wool shirt against her breasts, could feel the softness of the corduroy trousers against her trembling thighs.
He stiffened, and she sensed his surprise. He permitted her to kiss him for about thirty seconds, then pushed her back from him. He repeated, "What gives? What gives?"
She couldn't look at him, instead she put her head against his shoulder, and answered. "I was lonely."
"Lonely?" His exclamation was a snort of anger, quickly smothered as she hungrily kissed him again.
Dan took a deep breath as if he were getting ready to say something, but Janice beat him to it. "Dan ... make love to me... please!" Now?"
Gruffly, he took hold of her bare shoulders and held her away from him. He grinned lewdly, then guffawed. "That why you called big daddy out of the bar? You want a little loving?" He didn't look too unpleased at the thought. "Yes. I want you."
"By God! What d'you know about that! The old lady's puss-puss is so hot for a little of big daddy's cock that it's about ready to jump right out from between your legs and crawl up the wall. How about that!" He laughed again, but made no protest when her wet body pressed itself up against him. Her belly and pelvis began making hungry little circular motions as they sought to grind themselves into his penis.
"Oh ... Dan," Janice moaned. "I need you so badly..."
"Yeh ... sure." he replied. "I guess everybody needs a little fucking now and then. Right?
"Yes."
She dropped her hand to his zipper and pulled it down.
He looked delighted, and his laughter rang out once more. "Hey ... hey. The old lady's going on a fishing expedition." He stopped laughing and groaned in delight when her hand sought out the opening in his Jockey shorts and reached in to begin massaging the still flaccid prick.
Beneath her fingers she could feel the slow crawl and thickening of his penis as life surged into the instrument. She began milking it, pulling the skin back and forth over the muscular ridges ... and thrilled as it grew and grew in the always miraculous act of resurrection. She had it completely out of his shorts now, and she tried vainly to put it against her throbbing vaginal lips. During it all, she kept grinding her overly-sensitive bare breasts and nipples against the wool of his shirt, and kept her tongue busy darting around inside his mouth which tasted of the residue of beer and cigars.
The fevered impatience of sexual need was completely on her again. She was every bit as aroused now as she had been in Gene's office ... more so this time because she knew she didn't have to hold anything back.
Her unexpected boldness in taking the lead in lovemaking obviously had thrown Dan off somewhat, but it didn't keep him from using his hands to knead the firm supple flesh of her buttocks. Jan moaned low in her throat as his fingers squeezed too hard at one point and brought a momentary flash of pain, but it was a welcome hurt. She stood on tiptoe and flexed her vaginal muscles continuously as he worked the cheeks of her ass like pliant bread dough. Standing as she was, Janice found she could actually put the head of his hard cock in between the lips of her vagina. She flaunted her body back and forth on the hardness, and found herself with the forbidden memory of another cock, Gene O' Hare's moving in the same place less than an hour before. The thought almost drove her wild with desire and need. She began tugging at her husband's figure, pulling it toward the bed.
Using his erect prick as though it were a leash, Janice led him across the room. As soon as she felt the mattress behind her knees, she released the pressure and began fumbling with his waistband and belt. His pants and undershorts slipped down around his knees.
Wantonly, Janice lay back on the bedspread and splayed her legs out wide. "Make love to me, Dan," she whimpered. "Now, Right now. Hurry." She hunched her pelvis up from the bedspread a half a dozen times; the motion was done involuntarily ... by her body, without command from the brain. Through passion-dimmed eyes, she watched as Dan kicked off his pants and underpants. He made no effort to remove his shoes or his shirt. Janice waited, feeling the torment building inside her uterus. She had never wanted him so badly before ... had never wanted anyone as badly as she had tonight! The thought of what would happen when Dan fucked up into her vagina and began to pound his penis into her had started the trembling again. She knew almost every action, every motion that Dan would make, for it was a ritual he very rarely deviated from. Sometimes ... not often ... but sometimes, he would perfunctorily kiss her breasts. And he always French-kissed her just as he was about to cum; that was his subtle way of saying "hurry up." Invariably, he used his finger on her cuntal lips to arouse her, but he did it only as long as it took to start the vagina secreting lubricant. Dimly, as she awaited him to enter her body, Janice tried to figure out what was wrong with their lovemaking. She refused to believe that it was "dull," even though there was always a sameness about it. The original thrill she had gotten from him had disappeared after a year. He generally brought her to orgasm, but that was always the signal for him to cum immediately.
She knew her clitoris was overly sensitive; she reached a climax usually within two or three minutes. If he would only hold back another minute or two, she could cum half a dozen times. She had told him this, but still the second he knew she was cumming, he came. And usually that was it! In the beginning, that first year of marriage, he had made love five or six times a week ... sometimes twice a night. Now ... she was lucky if he wanted her once a week.
The mattress sagged with his weight, and Janice felt the bristly hair on his legs against her thighs. He grinned lewdly down at her, "Still want a little of daddy's cock."
"Yes... oh, yes. Make love to me."
"How would you like it?" The question sent an unexpected thrill through her body. Was he suggesting something new? Her vagina twitched in eagerness at the thought of a change in routine.
Dan didn't wait for an answer, he asked another question. "Would you like it hard and deep?"
She hunched her pelvis up at him again, and her vagina sought the elusive prick. "Do it... now," she said, her voice hoarse and strange to her ears. "I want you to do it to me now."
Dan drew her closer to him and moved one hand down to encase the round smooth buttocks; the tips of his fingers were in the soft, yielding crevice which separated the globes of supple flesh. Janice glued her mouth to his as she wedged a hand between their two bodies and grasped his fleshy hardness. She strained the full length of her body against his weight, grinding and pushing, and then spread her thighs even further apart as she brought his hot throbbing shaft closer to the hungry waiting mouth of her fevered, impatient cunt. Tightly gripping the bulbous shaft of pleasure as though it were some treasure too dear to release, Janice began sliding his cock up and down between her open legs, swirling it around her quivering, sensitive pink cuntal lips and parting the soft blonde pubic hair until its huge knob rested against the hot clasping opening of her vagina.
"There, Dan ... now... right in there..."
With all his weight centered behind the prick, Dan fell forward, his hips thrusting heavily as he drove into her widespread pussy. Janice felt the wonderful, life-giving prick slip in and down down ... down. "Ummmmmmmm, God ... good ... goood ... wonderful, darling," she crooned in delight, shaking her head violently back and forth ... feeling her cunt, her abdomen, her entire body rejoicing from the union of cunt and prick. She rocked gently beneath him, trying to take more of him, as he levered his hardened shaft the full length of her steaming vaginal passage. She could feel it throbbing inside of her, could feel every ridge of every wonderful muscle and tendon ... could feel the cyclopean head of the cock as it pushed in and touched her cervix at the same time his sperm bloated testicles crashed against the tautly spread cheeks of her ass.
"Ahhh ... yes. Yes!" She encouraged as he flexed his prick inside of her, making it jump against her cervix. Her body bounced up to meet his on each inward thrust, and she could feel the upper trunk of his cock scraping maddeningly across her clitoral hood. She strained to meet every pounding jerk until her loins were inches off the bed. And she knew she was breathing a mewling sound incessantly, opening and closing her legs about his hips as she labored frantically to climb that wonderful pole to heavenly bliss.
"Dan ... Dan ...Dan ... you feel so good. So very good!" Unexpectedly, she found herself trying to kiss him ... to lick his lips, his nose, his eyes, his ears. "Dan ..." she gave another gasp and screwed herself tighter to his prick; she was rewarded by it sinking to even deeper depths. It seemed as if it had never been this deep before, and she loved it beyond compare. Again her body reacted in a new and strange way. She found herself putting her hands under her knees and lifting them, using them as a lever to punch her pussy higher against him. The cock went deeper, deeper.
Abruptly, his tempo increased and Janice, knowing it was a signal of his impending orgasm, cried out, "No___Dan. Not yet ..." She went completely mad beneath him, using her vagina as a runaway milking machine ... scraping her clitoris insanely against the upper muscular ridges of the tool. Dan sped up even more, and his stroke drubbed savagely into her as his balls whacked fleshily against the backs of her upturned thighs.
His mouth clamped down over hers, and at the same time she felt the head of his cock growing bigger and bigger as it paced relentlessly to and fro, in and out of her pussy. He was cumming, and she strove mightily for her own orgasm. Dan began to growl deep in his throat as his long powerful strokes shook her entire body. Even so, she wanted more of it, more of him! She took her hands from behind her knees and dug them into his buttocks, forcing him in deeper, ever deeper. Her knees drew up as she raised herself, completely subjugating her pussy to his battering-ram attack, and her moist quivering vagina bucked wildly against the godhead that was bringing so much pleasure to her loins. She rode his cock wantonly, as though she had an interminable journey to complete and had so very little time left.
"Ohhhh, God------ I'm cumming, baby," Dan said, and even as the words left his lips, the hot spurting semen began spewing out of his cock to fill the hungry void in her uterus.
She heard his words, felt the throbbing of his orgasm inside the deeper most female part of her body, and then gratefully, felt the velvet beginnings of her own climax.
"Ahhh ... ah? Ahhhh___I'm cumming, Dan ..." she groaned, shoved her tongue into his open mouth at the same time she raised her pelvis almost six inches off the mattress in order to get the last of him. His cum roared through her vaginal cavity, bringing a new heat... and relief. Her wildly clasping cunt milked it for all it was worth, while Dam cupped straining global cheeks of her orgasmically jerking ass closer around his spurting cock. His still emptying balls beat a wild tattoo against her naked little anus.
Janice jerked against him, wailing like a banshee in pleasure, while her body convulsed in a spasmodic fit of pure ecstatic pleasure. It was as though every nerve ending, every ganglion had suddenly arced, shorting out in a fantastic shower of sparks of delight. She continued to writhe and thrash nakedly beneath even after Dan's heavy body collapsed on top of her.
Finally, though, the beautiful moment was over. A soft aurora borealis had replaced the wild electrical storm raging only moments before. A sigh of contentment came out of her throat.
The weight disappeared from her chest as Dan rolled over on his back. "Jeez, you sure were hot for it tonight," he said, then laughed softly, "I guess we took care of that little matter for you, didn't we?"
In answer, Janice merely put out her hand, grasped his, and squeezed.
Proud of himself, Dan continued, "Yeh ... big daddy's cock here will take care of what ails you. He's got the only key that'll unlock that little pussy of yours."
She lay there, listening to him brag, admitting to herself that he had brought her pleasure and relief. She savored the afterglow of her climax; it was a beautiful thing, something she wanted to share. She squeezed his hand again, hoping that by some osmosis he would understand what she was feeling. He obviously didn't though, because he took his hand out of hers and turned on his side to ask, "What's for dinner?"
Janice sighed. It was gone now, scattered to the four winds ... never to return ... a moment in history, a special sunset, a falling star on an autumn's night. "Steak and potatoes," she replied, feeling a strange sadness moving in over her like the fog from the sea.
"Did you remember to order beer?"
"It's on the board."
Dan grunted and rolled off the bed. She watched as he bent down and struggled on with his shorts; he was having difficulty getting them over his shoes. A moment later, dressed, he went to the mirror and combed his hair, then headed for the front of the house.
"First the icebox, then the teevee set," Janice said softly to herself.
From the kitchen came the sound of the refrigerator door opening, and a moment later the strident voice of the baseball pregame announcer hawking some cigarette product.
She continued to lie there, feeling now the cum cooling and beginning to crust on her inner thighs and pubic hair. Like storm clouds blowing across the face of the moon, the dark thoughts began coming to her. They all seemed to bring a question, "Is that all there is?" She couldn't answer that; there was no knowledge that she had gained in her lifetime that would permit her to accurately reply. Only two penises had ever touched her ... Dan's, and Gene's, who never really had been inside her.
She asked the question aloud, "Is that all there is?" And in reply, she shook her head mutely, refusing to believe that there was nothing more. Dan had been inside of her for less than two minutes. The entire thing, from her boldly reaching inside his trousers until he had rolled off the bed and dressed, had lasted no more than five minutes. Why, Gene had spent almost five minutes just kissing her neck and shoulders and breasts! Vaguely, somewhere from the depths of her feminine intuition she began to feel that perhaps "Making love" was one thing, and "fucking" was another.
She allowed her mind to dwell for a minute on Gene. She didn't love him ... not any longer. Yet, tonight when he had put his hands on her body, she knew that she was helpless. He would never know the monumental willpower it had taken to wrest herself away from his cock before it was put in that place that needed and wanted it so badly. Another second and she would have been helping him; she knew that, and the knowledge frightened her. She couldn't permit herself to be placed in that position again. She couldn't!
"Hey, lazy. You gonna lie there daydreaming all night? Get in here and start cooking me some chow," Dan yelled good-naturedly from the front room.
"All right," she called back, and sighed, feeling disappointment and something akin to despair. She rolled off the bed and stood naked in front of the full-length mirror, staring at herself. Her nipples had become erect again, and the areolae had goose-bumps on them. Had the thought of Gene and his penis done that to her? She let her mind dwell on the office scene once more, and abruptly she could almost feel his hot, hard cock scraping excitedly up between her cuntal lips. She moaned. The intolerable heat was on her again, and this time she knew there would be no more relief tonight ... and possibly no relief at all until that moment when Gene O'Hare's fleshy shaft of love slipped slowly and surely down, down, down into the hungry depths of her waiting stomach.
Well, then, she thought resolutely, there shall be no relief ever, for I am not going to commit adultery. I will not. I will not. I will not! She was still muttering the phrase when she went into the front room and picked up Dan's shoes from the center of the rug, and continued to mouth the phrase as she broke the lettuce greens for the salad and lit the broiler.
By the time she had completed washing the dinner dishes and awakened Dan from his perch in front of the teevee set, she actually believed it. She could not, would not, and was not going to betray Dan ... no matter what happened!
Chapter 3
Janice slept fitfully that night, and her sleep was full of dreams ... vague, formless impressions where faceless tilings .and faceless people roamed. Only once did a dream come with any kind of clarity at all, and that was the one in which Gene O'Hare was making love to her in his office when suddenly the door bust inward and Dan came running toward them with an upraised fireaxe. Her own scream of terror brought her to immediate reality, and she sat upright in bed, heart pounding in fright.
Outside, light was just coming to the new day. The bedside clock ticked and clicked and slipped from 6:38 to 6:39. Dan had already dressed and gone to work at the firehouse. His shift didn't start until eight, but he always liked to be there early so he could have a big breakfast with the outgoing shift and change into his duty uniform at his own leisure.
Knowing it was impossible to go back to sleep, Janice woodenly got up, brushed her teeth, and stepped under the shower. She soaped her body all over; this morning, however, the suds did not have the sensual effect on her that they had had the evening before when the animal heat was on her.
Towelling herself dry, she walked into the bedroom. There were still three hours before O'Hare's opened; it seemed kind of silly to put on slacks for a couple of hours and then have to undress and redress for work. Odd, she thought, how simple the decisions in my life have become. "Shall I dress now for work or wait two hours? What shall I serve for dinner tomorrow night when Dan comes home? What extra clothes shall I pack when Dan takes me to Yosemite day after tomorrow? What will I eat tonight for dinner by myself? Should I wear my red dress or my green dress? Am I going to bed with Gene O'Hare?"
She sniffed and laughed bitterly at the ridiculousness of the last question. No chance ... no chance at all, Mr. O'Hare! I won't get within twenty feet of your office ever again after hours. You can count on that! And deep within her, a wee small voice cried out, "What's wrong, Janice Morgan, are you afraid to be alone with him?"
Abruptly, her face became solemn, and she closed her eyes as it that act alone would shut off, the thoughts.
"Get with it, Janice," she said aloud, grabbing an orange and yellow quilted robe from the closet and struggling into it.
In the kitchen she made herself a cup of instant coffee and cut open a grapefruit. Half of the fruit was placed on the kitchen table by the windows, the other piece wrapped in wax paper and put into the refrigerator for tomorrow's lonely breakfast. Last night's newspaper was still in disarray on the floor beside Dan's television recliner chair, so she picked up the pages, and took it in the kitchen to scan over breakfast.
In an effort to pass time, Janice forced herself to read the entire front page and every article about San Sebastiano. A new sewer bond issue was coming up, calling for an expenditure of three million dollars. There had been a garage fire at 1601 East Main in Portola Valley, resulting in over three thousand, five hundred dollars damage to the structure and the automobile that burned inside the garage; two firemen had received minor burns when the gas tank exploded on the car. The San Sebastiano City Council was in San Diego attending a League of California Cities' convention; she know, from Dan's outraged protests, that they would blow almost five thousand dollars of the taxpayers' money down there, then return home full of self-righteousness and knew even more devious ways of screwing the police and firemen out of well-deserved pay raises.
She read the comics and smiled without humor at the sad plight of poor Charlie Brown in "Peanuts," then listlessly turned the page and found herself looking at the amusement page advertisements. There was nothing playing at the local motion picture theaters that she wanted to see badly enough to go alone. For the first couple of years after her marriage, she had gone to the mov- ies with Bette Dunn, whose husband, Mike, worked the same shift at the fire department as did Dan. That arrangement had ended after it finally became obvious that Bette was more interested in having a drink and fun and games at the Stone Hearth or the Green Lantern after the movies than in seeing the picture. Two or three horribly embarrassing incidents had occurred when some man at the bar had decided Janice was there to be "picked up;" Bette was at fault in each instance. She always flirted outrageously with every male in the bar, and more than once Janice had actually seen a man fondle her. Disturbed and mystified, Janice had finally asked Bette, "Doesn't Mike get mad at you?"
Bette had tossed her red head back and laughed throatily, "Mike? Hell, no, he plays a little too. We both have a rule. If you're going to bed with someone, make sure there won't be any wild repercussions ... like being named in a divorce suit... and don't get too serious about anyone."
"But ... but," Janice blurted out, "how can you go to bed with someone you don't love?"
Bette patted Janice's hand maternally, "Darling, when you've been married as long as I have, four years, you'll probably be looking for a little something extra on the side, too. Love doesn't have anything to do with it... it's sex. Beautiful... S-E-X," she spelled it out.
For a split second Janice had been tempted to retort, "I'm not that kind of person," but then she realized the comment might make it sound as though she were accusing Bette of something. Instinctively she knew ... or was pretty sure, at least ... that her redheaded friend was wrong. But on the other hand, if Mike didn't care what his wife did with other men, what business was it of hers?
Still, though, as a self-protective measure, these days Janice refused to go anywhere with Bette unless she had her own transportation. And, on those occasions when she and Bette did do something together, Janice always made a point of ducking out as soon as the men started converging on them.
Her exits had prompted one male friend of Bette's to comment, "That Janice is a real iceberg." Bette had promptly replied with considerable heat, "You like what you see don't you? Well, you gotta remember that you see only an eighth of an iceberg... seven-eights of it is below the surface. And just because she won't fart around with the likes of you, doesn't mean she's frigid, Buster. She's a lady, and she happens to love her husband."
Now, as Janice thought about it, she wondered if maybe Bette had been right about sexual needs changing after a woman has been married a while. Her own reaction to Gene O'Hare had been very revealing to her. She accepted it as a warning of what could happen with Gene if she weren't careful... not that it could ever happen with anyone else! She was particularly vulnerable with Gene; once she had loved him, and, for a moment there in his office, time had slipped on its axis and she was back to a summer eight years ago. That was all that had happened ... and she was going to make sure it never did occur again.
The urgent need to talk to someone came over her suddenly. For a moment she thought about calling up her mother, but she knew mom wasn't the answer right now. She needed to verbally feel someone out ... to get advice without coming right out and asking for it. That left Bette, who ... in spite of her promiscuity ... was the closest friend she had ever had ... something like an ideal older sister who never really bothered you, but always was there to help.
Janice glanced at her watch. It still was only seven-thirty, but Mike probably would have taken off for the fire department by now, and Bette would have been up to fix breakfast for him. Quickly then, before she could change her mind, Janice went to the telephone and dialed the number of the Dunn residence. Surprisingly, Mike answered the phone.
"Hi, Mike," Janice said with more heartiness than she felt. "What are you doing home at this time of day? I thought you were on the "A" shift." Mike's laughter boomed over the telephone. "Well, honey, it's this way. I got thirty minutes before the city starts paying me on the "A" shift, and I thought I'd use the time to cure a little of my wife's feistiness ... you know?" His laugh carried the message, and Janice found herself coloring slightly.
Mike continued, "Of course, if there's anything I can help you with; why, I'd come right over ... you know?"
Janice's blush deepened. It was said jokingly, but she knew Mike was dead serious. He had cornered her in a dark area off the dance floor one night at a fire department Christmas party about four years ago; he had been slightly drunk, and Janice herself was feeling dangerously lightheaded. Before she realized it, Mike had grabbed her and was hungrily raining kisses over her face, mouth and throat, with his hands all over her body and his all-too-evident erection grinding against her stomach. It could have been an extremely unpleasant scene, but Dan had been nowhere around and neither was Bette, and she had been able to extricate herself that night without hurting his feelings. Now, Mike repeated his earlier question, "I mean ... I'd be glad to come over and fix anything that needs... ah ... fixin'?"
Janice found herself laughing, and she teased him with her usual remark, "You're much too eager, and besides ... Dan is quite capable of doing all the household chores, taking care of everything around the house."
"Everything?" Now he was no longer kidding at all; she wondered if perhaps he sensed something about her. Did she radiate the message that less than a quarter of her sexual energy was expended? She didn't want him to get any new fresh ideas, so she replied firmly, "Everything!"
"Okay. If you change your mind ...."
"I won't."
"You might," he laughed again. "Want to talk to the Secretary of War?"
"I don't want to bother her while you're home. Have her call me when you leave."
"Naw. It's okay. Besides, I already took care of that feistiness; why, she's as gentle as a little lamb. Hold on." Janice heard the telephone being put down and then his voice bellowing, "Hey, Sugartits, it's Jan on the telephone. She wants to know if it's okay if I come over and fix the plumbing?"
Bette's faint voice grew louder as she obviously walked in from the other room, "You should live so long, dreamer." This was followed by Mike's laugh, and then a loud slapping noise and Bette's outraged scream, "Ough! That hurt!"
The phone was picked up and Mike said, "I just hope this dumb broad don't ever answer the front door this way during the day ... stark-ass naked. What d'you know, you're going to have a little handprint there."
And Bette's voice came, "Give me that telephone, you lunkhead, and go take your shower. You're going to be late for work."
Janice was forced to smile at the exchange between husband and wife. To someone who didn't know them, their conversation might sound like bickering; it wasn't though, merely a companionable teasing and give and take.
"Hello," Bette said, and then immediately added with a touch of exasperation, "Just a second, Jan." There was the sound of a minor scuffle, then she said quite loudly, "Goddamnit, Dunn! Will you please go to work! You are driving me out of my cotton-picking mind! Go. Get out of here!"
"Bette, maybe I'd better call back later," Janice said.
"No. It's all right. I've just got the great white gorilla on my hands this morning. He gets wound up this way sometimes. I pity the first guy down at the fire station who drops a wrench and bends over to pick it up. Old King Kong here will be playing drop the soap with him before the poor bastard knows what's happening."
Mike loudly guffawed and, from the sound that came over the wires, obviously slapped his wife's bare buttocks again. After a moment, Bette sighed deeply, "That's better. He's finally taken the hint and is heading for the showers and work. Well, now. What's up?"
Janice hesitated, wondering if perhaps she wouldn't be better off keeping her problem secret. Then she committed herself. "Look. Can I come over and talk to you for a few minutes? After Mike leaves?"
"Of course. I'll put another pot of coffee on. Ah ... you ... ah ... care to tell me what it's about?" She couldn't keep the curiosity out of her voice.
"I need to talk to someone ... about something."
"Shall I guess? You're pregnant?"
Janice snorted, "Not very likely. I've been taking my pills regularly." Actually, now that she thought about it, maybe that was what she needed ... to have children, to become a mother. But then, Dan had said several times that he didn't want any children until the house was paid for__and that wouldn't be for another three years.
"I'll be sitting on pins and needles 'til you get here," Bette said. "Come on over as soon as you want. Old King Kong will be swinging through the trees toward the firehouse in about five minutes. His usual shower lasts just long enough for him to make sure that it's water coming out of the showerhead and not bourbon. He keeps hoping and hoping...."
Janice dressed for work; she knew that it would take at least thirty minutes for her to summon enough nerve to bring up the subject she really wanted to discuss with Bette. By the time she asked all the questions she had to ask, it would be time to go to work.
Walking the three blocks to the Dunn residence, Janice chided herself for being so naive, so bashful, for being embarrassed at talking about sex, es- pecially when whatever lack there was in her marriage might be traced to her. Was there some way she could make it better, make sex better? Well, it was important enough to overcome her own reticence at talking about it ... and she knew that the time had come when it had to be brought out in the open with someone ... either a friend or a marriage counselor.
As it turned out, Janice didn't have to wait thirty minutes to bring up the subject Bette met her at the front door, wearing an extremely tight pair of green slacks and a see-through net blouse. Her red hair was piled carelessly atop her head, and she was barefoot. Bette took one look at Janice, cocked her head to one side questioningly, then put her lips together and whistled. "Oh ... wow! Come in here this instant! Tell me. Who is he?"
Janice's face turned the color of her cranberry red dress. She was so embarrassed that she couldn't speak. For a moment, the thought of flight came to her mind. Escape was impossible, for Bette had grabbed her arm and practically yanked her into the house, slamming the door shut behind them.
Bette's green eyes glowed with a wildfire of excitement and she almost did a little jig as she repeated the question, "Who is he? Oh my God! I didn't think you'd ever have enough nerve...."
Janice blurted out, "You're wrong." Unaccountably, she was finding it difficult to breathe, and the idea of running away came back stronger than ever.
Bette shook her head violently. Her eyes wide with amazement, never left Janice's face. "Oh... no. No! I'm not wrong. There is someone."
Janice looked helplessly toward the door and Bette, correctly interpreting the action, said, "No. Come on ...in the kitchen. You can't leave now." She tugged at Janice's arm so hard that both were almost thrown off balance. Unwillingly, Janice followed her into the sun-filled room where coffee perked on the stove. Bette pulled out a chair with her foot and, without taking the hand off Janice's arm, shoved her into the chair. "Stay there," she ordered. She went to the cupboard, pulled down two yellow and red mugs, filled them from the percolator, and carried them steaming back to the table. Sitting down opposite Janice, she vigorously nodded her head once, "Okay. Spill it. I'm all ears."
Suddenly the need to talk it out became greater than her embarrassment, and Janice took a deep breath to gain courage. She looked at Bette, trying to assess how much she could say ... how much she could leave unsaid and still have her understand. "Will you give me your solemn word of honor that you won't repeat anything I tell you ... not even to Mike?"
"I promise." Bette relaxed, obviously pleased that her suspicions had been confirmed.
Janice paused for a second, wondering where to start, then said quickly, "Look, I'm not trying to pry ... or be personal, or embarrass you. It's just that I don't know who I can discuss this with."
"Go ahead. You can't embarrass me."
Janice took a sip of coffee and looked out the window; this was going to be tough, even harder than she had believed earlier. "Let me ask you something. Am I right in thinking you and Mike had sexual relations this morning."
Bette nodded and smiled, one eyebrow arched up appreciatively. "Did we ever!"
"It's still good between you two ... I mean, in spite of the fact that you and he have other ... other ..."
"Partners?"
"Yes, other partners."
"It's better than ever. Gets better all the time."
"How do you feel now? Right now. Are you satisfied?"
"Of course, I am. I won't let old King Kong go until he finishes the job . , . even if it means he has to go down on me. He doesn't mind that... the darling man."
"Go down on you?" Now Janice was mystified. "You know. I mean, you do know ... don't you?"
Janice shook her head.
Bette looked at her as if she didn't believe her. "You're putting me on. You can't be serious."
"I'm not!"
"Oh, boy." Bette actually looked embarrassed. She paused, obviously searching for words, then cocked her head to one side. "Suppose we let that question go for a couple of minutes. I have a book or two I'll loan you."
Janice was immediately apologetic. "I don't mean to be stupid."
Bette put out her hand and patted Janice's arm. "Don't be silly. You're not stupid. Naive, maybe. Not very experienced." She took a long sip of her coffee and rummaged around in the package of cigarettes and took out two. She lit them, handed one to Janice, and asked casually, "Have you ever ... taken Dan's penis in your mouth?"
Janice's face turned crimson. Oh, this was so painfully embarrassing. She hadn't, but how did she tell Bette that she had wanted to a couple of times before deciding it was perverted and unsanitary. So, in answer, all she did was shake her head negatively.
"Okay. I've got a book for that, too. It's a best seller called The Sensuous Woman; it's sold almost half a million copies to women who don't know what to do. It's all there ... how to make love the regular way, orally, and rectally, and how to participate in group sex."
Janice couldn't believe her ears. "I've heard of that book. Surely it doesn't have those things in it ... why, they sell it right out in the open."
"Why shouldn't they? Men and women have been doing things like that since Adam and Eve. Nothing wrong with adding a little spice to a marriage."
Janice decided to drop it for the moment. Like a hunting dog who has lost the trail, she went back to an earlier question. "Do you ever feel unsatisfied after intercourse?"
Bette shrugged. "Sometimes I get a bummer ... not from Mike ... maybe from some guy I misjudged ... a bam-bam, thank you, ma'am' type."
Janice chose her words carefully. "Do you ... think ... there's something wrong with a woman who has an orgasm but... ah ... still feels she ... ah... wants more."
"How much more?" Bette inspected her closely as if she were attempting to diagnose the problem.
"Well ... sometimes I feel like I could have a second one."
"I had four or five this morning," Bette said matter of factly. "Sometimes, when a man takes his time in building me up ... brings me along slowly ... one is enough." She smiled softly as memories ran across her face, "Jesus. There have been times when my first orgasm was so strong that I passed out completely, a second one would kill me. Mike likes to get me to a sort of plateau where it's practically one continuous orgasm."
"How long does it last? The lovemaking ... from start to finish?"
"Sometimes ten minutes ... an hour sometimes. A couple of times it's gone on for half the night." Bette stared at her. "How long does yours last?"
Janice looked away. She felt guilty about answering, as if telling the truth was in some way an accuastion against Dan. Finally, she tilted her head to one side and said almost inaudibly, "Five minutes."
"Well, that's not too bad."
"I mean from the time he starts to kiss me and fondle me until he rolls off."
Bette blew out a cloud of smoke, "That ain't good, then. Don't you ever ask him to spend a little more time?"
Janice nodded her head dumbly. Bette looked thoughtful; it was as if she were trying to decide whether to be brutally candid or not. Finally, valor got the better of discretion and she said, "Look, I don't want to hurt you. Understand? But... ah ... well, Dan and I once ... we...oh, shit! We made love before he met you." Janice stared at her in disbelief. A tide of hurt and anger swept over her almost immediately, and then just as rapidly disappeared. What Dan had done before he got married was Dan's business. And, oddly enough, she realized she didn't really care that much. It was a terrible thought, but maybe Dan could learn something from an experienced woman like Bette.
"He was the original Speedy Gonzales," Bette said, and paused again inspecting the other woman's face. "He still was, hadn't changed a bit... that night at the dance, four years ago ... I wasn't going to say anything; I kept my mouth shut for four years; didn't want to hurt you. I saw you and Mike necking up a storm in the corner that night, I decided that maybe Dan and I might have a little fun, too. So, we went out to the car, had sex ... if you can call it that ... and was back in the dance hall within five minutes. Then when I saw you alone, I realized that Mike had been the one on the make, and you were just being your sweet usual self trying not to hurt anyone's feelings... but not about to go to bed with any male but your husband."
Janice listened to her friend talk; she heard the words and understood them. What she didn't understand was her own lack of reaction to them. She knew she should feel hurt and humiliation and anger at Dan's cheating. And yet... the thought of what had happened in Gene's office came creeping back constantly. It had happened to Dan and Bette; it could very easily have happened to her and Gene. No ... there was no reason to make accusations.
Bette had gotten up to refill their coffee cups when Janice suddenly blurted out, "I almost did ... go to bed with someone other than Dan. Just last night."
Bette spun around, her eyes wide with excitement and curiosity again. "I knew it. I could tell that when you came in the door. Who is he?"
Janice paused. Could she trust her? The answer was obvious. "Gene O'Hare."
Bette sat down again at the table immediately; she had forgotten all about the coffee. "Holy mackerel! Come on, give. What happened." She held her breath in anticipation.
Suddenly the words were gushing out of Janice's mouth. She told everything ... about Gene's invitation to his office, what she had felt as he started discussing her married life, what she had said, what he had said, how he had kissed her ... and how his kisses had set her on fire. Janice told everything, leaving out no details, not even the feel of his hands on her body, his removal of her panties and bra, the touch of his penis against her vaginal lips. And then her last remaining bit of willpower and the frantic flight from his office. When she finished, Bette was sitting there ... almost hypnotized, her breath coming rapidly, and her eyes as wide as tea saucers.
"Oh, wow!" Bette exclaimed. "And you didn't let him make love to you ... when you wanted it so badly?"
"No. I couldn't do that to Dan."
"Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Bette closed her eyes in disgust. Her voice was almost angry, when she said, I called you naive a couple of minutes ago. Now I think you're a jackass. And so you ran away from Gene ... all hopped up and your vagina on fire ... and went home. I bet you had to pull Dan out of the bar. Right?" She didn't wait for an answer, but continued angrily, "And he came home reluctantly and gave you a present of his five-second special."
Numbly, Janice realized she should come to her husband's defense, but there was really nothing she could say. After all, it was the truth, Bette got up abruptly from the table and left the room; she was back almost immediately carrying two books. "Here, read these damned things. You shouldn't have to read them ... not if you let your body and your instincts tell you what to do. One's The Sensuous Woman I was telling you about. The other's Sex In Marriage by Dr. Wendell Koble; it's got pictures on how to do everything, including oral sex for both parites. Read them! And then go practice a little bit on Gene O'Hare."
"I couldn't."
"Then practice on Dan."
Janice swallowed. She thought about it. Why not? She'd do anything to put a little more life in their marriage. "All right," she said. "I'll read them."
"And practice it."
Janice nodded slowly. "I'll try to ... practice ... when Dan and I go away Sunday. He's off for five days and he's promised to take me to Yosemite; I've asked for the time off from the store. We've both needed to get away together for a long time. Gee, you should see the new pantsuit and cocktail dress I bought for the trip. I want to look my best for him."
Bette was looking at her oddly now. There was something wrong, she could sense it. The redhead's expression was one almost of pity. "What's wrong?" Janice demanded.
Bette's anger was back again in her .voice. "He didn't tell you?"
"He? Who's he? Tell me what?"
"Dan ... that selfish, inconsiderate husband of yours."
A twinge of fright was merely the precursor of a blanket of uncertainty that suddenly fell over her. "What was Dan going to tell me?"
"He's probably saving it for a telephone call. He's not going to Yosemite with you; he and Mike and three other guys are leaving tomorrow night to go hunting up in Montana. Mike told me about it four or five days ago."
"But Dan promised...."
"Yeh. Well, he's already kicked in his two-hundred bucks as his share of the trip with the guys."
"He wouldn't do that." The remark was made in a soft voice, as though she didn't even believe her own statement. Dan had done it ... at least three times before. There had been the trip to San Diego he had promised her___that one never came off; he'd gone wild boar hunting instead. And the trip to the Mendocino Coast... which was cancelled because the salmon suddenly started running off Monterey.
Bette shrugged. "We'll see. I know Mike's going on the trip. He even gave me a couple of hundred bucks to go shopping in 'Frisco. I plan to stay up there for this weekend, anyway." She snapped her fingers and brightened, "Hey, why not come up with me tonight. We could have a ball for a couple of days."
Janice shook her head back and forth slowly, "He wouldn't do that to me. I won't let him go hunting."
"How are you going to stop him, honey? I mean, after all, you're afraid even to tell him to slow down in his lovemaking, afraid to ask him for more loving. How you going to get up enough courage to put your foot down and say no, you can't go hunting?"
Now Janice was angry, really angry. "I'll show you," she said. "Can I use your phone?"
An expression akin to amusement was on Bette's face when she nodded her head.
Janice picked up the telephone and rapidly dialed the fire department nonemergency line. "Hello, Judi," she said to the dispatcher. "This is Jan. May I speak to Dan?"
A moment later Dan's gruff voice came on the line, "Yeh. What'd you want?"
Janice gave it to him with both barrels. "I hear you're planning to go hunting instead of taking me to Yosemite."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, then Dan asked, "Who told you that?"
"Answer me."
"Yeh. I'm going."
"You're not. Do you hear me, you are taking me to Yosemite. You promised."
"Now, look! Don't you go telling me what I can do or not do. I'm going. I already paid my dough."
"You promised."
"Yeh ... well, I'm unpromising, right now."
Janice's voice was tight with anger, bitterly cold. "Let me get this straight, Dan Morgan. Your promises to me are no good, is that right?"
"Ah...baby. What's got into you?"
"Goddamn you. Answer me."
"I didn't promise...." His voice was suddenly unsure of itself, like a bully whose bluff has unexpectedly been called.
"Dan, as God is my witness ... if you go on that trip, I will not be here when you come back."
"Don't start making threats to me. You're my wife. You'll do as I say as long as you live under my roof."
"Dan, I'm going to say this only one more time. You are not going on that trip. You promised me."
"I'm going. I'll talk to you tomorrow night when I get home." There was a crash as he slammed the telephone back into its cradle. Slowly, her face white with anger, Janice put down the phone. She stood there, head bowed, her thoughts churning in angry indecision.
Bette got up and put an arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jan. I really am."
"He promised." She wanted to weep, but anger kept the tears away. Her subconscious was screaming some message to her.
"What can I say?" Bette asked, lifting her eyebrows in sympathy.
"His promises don't mean a thing. He doesn't keep his word." And then the thing she had been trying to avoid thinking about came rushing to the surface of her mind; she put it into words, "His promises are meaningless. He broke his marriage promise when you and he ... I'm not blaming you, Bette. He broke his promise to me about coming home earlier at nights ... about other trips ... a lot of things, now that I think about it. So ... if he can break his promises, then I can too."
Bette's eyes narrowed. "You aren't thinking about doing something foolish?"
Janice glanced down at her watch; she had thirty minutes yet before she was due at the store. "I'm going home to change my dress," she said. "I want to look my best when Gene O'Hare asks me to dinner tonight."
"You aren't? Really?" Bette's excitement could not be contained.
"I am. And tonight, when I dress for dinner, I'm going to wear my new cocktail dress ... the one I was saving for Yosemite. It's cut way down to here, and the skirt is pretty daring." She began walking to the door, then turned back, "Thanks for the cof- fee ... and the advice."
"Hey, don't forget your books."
Janice stared at them for a second, then cheeks dimpling, shook her head. "You know, I don't think I'll need those with Gene O'Hare."
And, as she hurried home ... her heart pounding with excitement, her body strangely alive with an irrepressible anticipation ... she knew that the statement was true: The books wouldn't be needed ... Gene would show her what to do ... and she'd do it... willingly!
Chapter 4
It was almost midnight. The fog had gone, leaving in its wake a surprisingly warm clear evening. Gene had put the top down on his convertible, and Janice, uncaring, let her long blond hair stream out behind her like a golden veil as they drove the Coast Highway toward San Sebastiano.
She had her head back on the seat, staring up at the millions of stars that winked and blinked in the soft night sky.
It had been a great dinner ... one of the best, if not the best, she had ever had; everything had been so enjoyable that a warm glow of contentment surrounded her like a magic cloak and filled every part of her being. Gene had selected a small, but excellent restaurant near Capitola. To get into the place from the parking lot, they had to ride a funicular down the side of the hill. As the cable car swung from side to side, creaking and groaning dangerously, Janice had found herself grabbing Gene in fright and for support It had been only the first of many times during the evening that she was painfully aware of his body. The meal had been unhurried ... taking almost three hours to complete ... and faultlessly served by a Negro waiter who devoted his entire attention to their table alone. The maitre d' had placed them next to a huge picture window that overlooked a small lake lit by spotlights. While they were having coffee and Grand Mariner, a graceful swan followed by five fluffy cygnets cut a triangular swath through the water, and the scene had been so romantic, so peaceful, so touching, that Janice had impulsively reached out for Gene's hand. And they had continued holding hands for the rest of the meal. Oddly enough, although they had talked quite a bit in the beginning, the warm, companionable silences grew longer in duration. Neither felt a compulsion or need to make small talk. Janice remembered an old saying, "When lovers are silent, their bodies talk to each other." They weren't lovers, not in a technical sense... not yet, anyway ... but their bodies certainly spoke to each other.
They had been the last to leave the restaurant. When Gene took her arm crossing the dark parking lot, he felt the very slight return of pressure as she clamped her arm against her body, holding his hand captive against her rib cage. They hadn't discussed it, hadn't even come close to approaching the subject, but he knew ... with a sureness that surprised them ... that Janice and he were going to wind up in bed together before this night was over ... and that it would be good, very good indeed.
Now, driving homeward, he glanced over toward her. She sat comfortably in the seat, her head thrown back, eyes watching the stars. The coat she was wearing hid that splendid little cocktail dress with the rather startling decollete. Several times during dinner Gene found his eyes locked hungrily on her breasts; she was wearing either a half bra__or no bra at all. And once, he had glanced up and discovered her watching him ... as if she were pleased that he found her attractive and desirable. He really wasn't sure what to think of her; "unpredictable" was probably just as good a word as any other to describe her. This morning, he had been positive he was in for an awkward time when it came time to apologize for his behavior in the office the evening before. But it hadn't been difficult at all; as a matter of fact, Janice had seemed warm ... and available. When he attempted to apologize, she had cut him off in mid-sentence, claiming she was as much to blame as he. Gene really hadn't had any thought of taking her to dinner tonight; actually, he had a date with a hot-pantsy little brunette from Palo Alto. But, almost without knowing what he was doing, he had asked Janice to dinner. She had accepted without hesitation, without embarrassment or coyness ... and he was glad that she had.
Gene swung his convertible off Highway One and took the winding road down through the forest to San Sebastiano. Midway down the hill, the ocean came into view; hanging above it was a tiny crescent of a moon, all yellow, upside down just above the horizon.
Now that the first part of the evening was drawing to a close and the second about to begin, Janice found herself beginning to have some doubts about the wisdom of what she knew was going to happen. Earlier, she had been positive that she was right ... but now? It was, no matter how fancy a name was put on it, "adultery" that she was about to commit. She watched Gene's sure hands on the steering wheel, expertly guiding it around the treacherous curves of San Sebastiano's Ocean Drive. She knew the time was rapidly approaching when they would reach a point of no return. Then, abruptly, that moment came and passed ... and she knew she was committed. A part of her relaxed now that the decision had been taken out of her hands... while another part tensed slightly.
Gene swung the car off Ocean Drive at Fjord Avenue and took the road upward once again. He drove quickly, silently, taking the familiar curves with ease. If Janice was aware that he was heading toward his house atop the hill overlooking the sea, she wasn't protesting anyway. He began to feel completely sure of himself again. A moment later he pulled into his circular driveway, parked alongside the statue of a small stableboy holding out his hands for the reins, and shut off the engine. For a moment, the desire to take her in his arms right then and there was almost overwhelming. He knew she wouldn't object. But the setting wasn't right. Not yet.
Quickly, Gene swung out of the car, went around and opened her door for her, and watched ... with a sudden, unexpected and almost irresistible surge of desire as her skirt hiked up close to her hips when she slid out of her seat. Those legs and thighs! She was so goddamned lovely! Everything about her was perfect, he thought. She had been hot as a pistol those lames when they had lain together eight years ago; she had been pretty fucking hot last night in the office! She just has to be a fabulous, natural lay ... that's all there is to it, he decided ... and felt his cock responding with a virility that surprised even him. He unlocked the front door and stood aside as a docile and somewhat timid Janice walked past him into his home. A hundred women had come through this portal and been fucked ... and yet, he felt an excitement that was even stronger than the first time he had brought someone here. He saw her draw up in surprise and pleasure, then heard her gasp as she caught the breathtaking view from the living room picture window. On the left, way, way in the distance, the Point Sur Lighthouse blinked out its eternal semaphore of reassurance ... and to the right, some thirty miles away, the jeweled red, blue, green and white lights of Santa Cruz looked like rubies and emeralds and diamonds. Hie yellowed old moon was just sinking beneath the western horizon, and its reflection on the sea made it look as if a golden satin runner had been placed atop the water.
She turned to him, face uplifted in pleasure, "It's beautiful, Gene. I never realized.'.."
"Thank you." Oddly enough, he felt strangely touched by her genuine gasp of admiration for the view. Maybe, if circumstances had been different, this would have been her house ... as well as his. He wondered what it would have been like married for seven years to her. If it was anything like what had occurred already tonight, it would have been fun.
"Here, let me have your coat," he said. When she took it off her dress gaped open at the bodice, and then he knew for sure that she was not waring a bra. Once again, he fought the impulse to bend forward and pay homage to those warm, visible monuments to her femaleness. But he waited, suffering the sweet torment, feeling the hunger and anger growing in his loins as if they were cursing him for being a fool, for depriving them of what they needed and wanted most. He carried the coat to the vestibule closet and carefully hung it on a hanger. Then he went back into the living room. Janice was standing by the window staring silently out into the night with a fathomless expression on her face. For a split second, Gene thought she seemed terribly sad about something or the other, but when she turned to him, a warm smile lit up her features. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, nodding his head toward the mammoth twelve-foot-long, white, pony hair couch in front of the window.
Janice took his invitation at face value. She kicked off her high heels and curled up like a kitten in the corner of the couch, feeling the luxurious softness of its deep, foam rubber cushions, the absolute sensuality of the pony hair cover tickling her thighs and buttocks through nylons and dress. Gene came back with two brandy snifters containing more Grand Marnier. He placed them on the low cocktail table before her, then disappeared again. A moment later there was the far-off sound of music, and lights began to dim ... grew dimmer, dimmer, until there was only a soft, barely perceptible glow coming from the fixtures in the room. Gene loomed up beside her in the dimness. She felt the cushion sink downward from his weight. He held out a glass which she took. No audible toast was made, they merely touched glasses together and silently sipped their liqueur.
Janice's heart had begun to speed up its tempo, as she realized the moment had arrived. Now the thing that should have occurred eight summers ago was about to happen. She wanted it to happen, urgently needed to have it happen ... and felt a momentary twinge of regret and sorrow that it had to take place this way ... through a planned seduction, betrayal, broken promises, and adultery, in-stead of the normal, uncomplicated way it probably would have occurred eight years ago.
She was aware of movement on the couch, felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder, and an arm go around her waist pulling her closer to his body. The hand was different from Dan's; the arm was not Dan's; this was not Dan's body she was next to. Nor was it Dan's smell she inhaled; this was a faint, unfamiliar but rather exciting odor of expensive, male's cologne. She allowed herself to be pressed close against a firm supporting chest, lowering her head against the gold buttons on the double-breasted jacket-feeling their coolness, feeling the incredible softness of his cashmere jacket.
Gene felt the warm, resilient body pressed tightly against his own, felt the firm, wonderfully alive muscles of her shoulder beneath his encircling arm, and smelled the fragrance of her perfume and hair. There was a slight tremor to that body. "Are you cold?" he asked, feeling protective and concerned.
Janice lifted her head from his chest. Her slightly parted lips were only inches from his. She said nothing, but her eyes carried a message of trusting assent. Gently, very gently, Gene bent forward and touched his lips to hers. His body reacted to that first contact; it rejoiced with the sud- den knowledge that this was going to be the best goddamned night in a long time. She was going to be good ... perfect! And he'd make it perfect for her. He was going to play her like a cello, bringing low and high notes of pleasure and fire and ecstasy from her ... passionate, symphonic notes that she didn't even know existed ... notes she couldn't have experienced until touched by a master musician's hand. Whatever he did tonight would be good, as far as she was concerned. He knew now, beyond a doubt, that there was something seriously wrong in the sexual relations between Janice and her husband. What it was, he didn't know ... nor did he care, for he knew with a sure infallible instinct that Janice could be turned on if a man wanted to spend enough time building her up ... and he knew he would spend all night, if necessary, to make her realize what wonderful things could happen when a male and a female let themselves go.
Gene continued to kiss her gently, but there was nothing gentle or soft about the throbbing ache in his balls, or the rising blood that pounded in his cock and caused hot tingling sensations to race like lightning across its swelling head.
Gradually, his kisses became more urgent. When his tongue sought her mouth, she opened readily to receive him. The soft strands of her hair tickled his ears, and they were surprisingly effective in intensifying the wonderful ache in his groin. Without removing his lips from hers, he took the glass from her listless fingers and put it on the cocktail table. Now that her hands were free, she immediately raised them and put them behind his head. She slowly moved her hand through his hair as though she were timidly fingering an incredibly rich, sable coat.
When Gene began to stroke the satin skin of her shoulder and upper arm, Janice reacted by sucking on his tongue with a force that surprised him. Although his motions were designed to be gentle and comforting, her fingers moving at the back of his head and her sucking of his tongue increased in urgency. He abruptly became aware that her knee, which had been halfway on the couch before, was now pressed against his midthign; it was almost as if she were opening herself to him. And Gene knew, as a connoiseur of snatch, that if he put his hand down to her vagina right now, he would find that it was damp with a warm lubricant that had sprung from her fevered impatience. She was ready now, he thought; completely ready....
For a moment, when Gene had first taken her into his arms, Janice had fought a silent, but violent battle with her own conscience. She tried to think of her husband, but how could she! Dan had never held her close like this, or talked softly to her, or gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She couldn't help it. She couldn't! A woman needed this. Her body demaned this. She wanted to be loved. She had to be loved! For one whole minute while she was sucking on his tongue, she wondered what it would be like to take his penis in her mouth. Well, that was out of the question anyway. She had never done that with her own husband ... she wouldn't do it with someone else. Still, though, the thought had stuck in her mind like a buzzing, persistent insect caught in flypaper. The image of her doing that to Gene O'Hare had a tremendous and unexpected effect on her body. She could feel twitching, excited sensations deep within her abdomen ... muscles that she hadn't known existed were making themselves felt and squeezing out a hot dampness from her vagina, moistening her black bikini panties ... muscles that seemed to contract and relax in a maddening sexual rhythm. Her erect nipples suddenly felt supersensitive under the rich cloth of her cocktail dress; her breasts seemed to be under tremendous pressure, as if they were being crushed. They seemed to cry out for freedom... for attention, and Janice wanted to take off her dress in order to be more comfortable.
Gene continued to stroke her shoulder, aware now that her trembling had increased, along with an almost imperceptible, sexual rhythm of her moving knee against his thigh. He let his hand slide slowly and lightly down along the length of her bare arm; he was rewarded by the gentle to-and-fro movement of her elbow against his navel. There had been a renewed quickening of breath from her in just the last few seconds.
Now was the time to begin the real preliminaries, he thought. He brought his hand up, sliding it along her bare back now, down, down, down until he could feel the supple curve of pliant flesh where her buttocks began. She moaned for the first time when his hand rested there briefly.
Gene brought his hand up to her shoulder again and then, gently, he put his fingers on the swelling mound of her breast and began to rub in soft little circular motions. He could feel her nipple, hard and erect, beneath the cloth. Janice gasped and stiffened, then abruptly, her tongue tried to drive itself down the back of his throat. O'Hare continued the caressing but now his entire hand was making a circular massage of the soft, pliant mound. He could feel her bare skin at the top of the bodice, could feel the heat of her body, and then his fingers surely slipped down the slight gap in the bodice and cupped her bare breast in the palm of his hand. The feel of that wonderfully warm tit caused some of his gentleness to leave him. His cock was hurting ... hammering and pounding as though it were some huge piece of underground machinery out of balance and about to burn out its bearings. With the flight of gentleness, O'Hare took complete command. His hand grasped the hot flesh of her naked breast; and his widespread fingers captured the hard bud of her nipple, and painfully tweaked it between "forefinger and thumb. His tongue worked back and forth in her mouth as though it were a red quivering piston rod or a warm, red, knobless little prick fucking in and fucking out.
Janice was actually purring loudly, and occasionally excited mewling sounds of pleasure came from deep within her throat. So wonderful was that contact between hand and breast, that she didn't realize her zipper had been tugged down in back. Her first indication that this had happened came when Gene pulled her dress off her right shoulder to reveal her love-starved bare breast. His mouth pulled away from hers and began moving slowly down neck, across shoulder, and then, teasing, his tongue quivered once like lightning against her painfully erect nipple.
She moaned in loud and joyous ecstasy when the warm moist oval of his mouth tried to enclose the entire tit. His mouth sucked, his tongue licked, his teeth nibbled. And now her left shoulder was bare. She held his head at her breast as though he were a small child and she his mother. A feeling of grand and glorious exaltation swept through her momentarily, but this was replaced by the sudden realization that his travelling hand had begun a gentle, easy stroking of her inner thighs. She held her breath as his fingers went to the waistband of her panties, swiftly moved past the elastic barrier, and slipped down her slightly trembling stomach ... past the curling strands of her soft, furlike pubic hair ... to come to rest at the very top of her vaginal split. Then ... slowly and tormentingly ... his hand moved lower, middle finger extended and parting the soft curls of sparse blond pubic hair, until his digit came into delicious contact with the hot, slippery furrow of her cunt.
Janice, without conscious volition, clenched her thighs together. She wasn't sure if she were doing this to keep him from going further ... or if she wanted to just trap that wonderful hand there forever. But then that period of indecision passed almost at once, and she found herself beginning to tremble violently, while her low moans began sounding as the zephyrs precursing a cyclone. Even above her mewls of salacious contentment, and the overpowering sensations his hand was bringing to her wildly rejoicing vagina, Janice could hear the small shrill yells of her battered conscience screaming at her mind and body. "This is wrong! Just because your husband cheated on you and lied to you, that doesn't mean you have to lower yourself to his level. Stop it, Janice! You can still get up and walk away from here and be fundamentally a decent woman. You don't love Gene O'Hare. Don't let him just use your naked body! Don't become an adulteress ... a whore who sells her body for an evening's meal. Don't. Stop it! Get up from this couch. Now. NOW, JNICE! Stop it... stop ... before it's ... too late. Stop ... stop... too late... too late...."
Janice did nothing because she knew it was already top late. She was incapable of leaving those teasingly searching hands, that mouth; her genitals, her breasts, had cried out for years to be caressed and touched and fondled. She loved the touch of his hand on her vagina; she loved the feel of the strange, pony skin couch against her own bare back and shoulders; she loved everything! And she wouldn't stop him. Ever!
O'Hare slowly worked his middle finger into the moist, quivering passage of Janice's love-starved pussy. He used thumb and forefinger to tease the engorged bud of her clitoris, playing with it, twirling it between fingers, bringing loud mewls of ecstatic pleasure from that fabulous body which was, just now, beginning to writhe in lewd anticipation of things yet to come. Her breath was coming in hoarse gasping pants now, in rhythm with his finger moving in and out of her cunt. She had voluntarily spread her thighs apart as if doing everything to help him. A part of his mind stood off to one side watching her in amazement. God, he had known she was easily aroused, but she was already so hot that she was practically crying for him to fuck her. She wanted cock, she had to have cock ... she would go out of her fucking mind if she didn't get a cock and get one soon. She was long since at the point of no return; she was completely subservient to him now.
"Darling," he whispered, taking his mouth from her breast, "I want you. I want to make love to you ... to fuck you."
Janice stiffened momentarily at the obscenity, but then chided herself. She had heard the word "fuck" from Dan, and had used it in mental conversations with herself, so it wasn't important! And then, as his finger continued to play an arpeggio of lust against her sensitive clitoris, she relaxed again and forgot any protest. She sat, eyes closed in rapture, with shoulders and head pressed tightly against the pony skin bolster, her thighs wide apart, her feet standing on tiptoe on the rug as she sought to raise knees and give him freer access to the whole drought-stricken valley up between her thighs. She knew that her body was on the threshold of a new awakening ... a discovery of a new land where unimaginably beautiful things could bloom and grow. It was Gene O'Hare taking her there; it was a land she could never go to with Dan, because Dan did not know the way. And so, when Gene asked her once again, "Do you want me to make love to you?" Janice had caught his head in her hands and pulled his face close to hers. She stared deep in his eyes, feeling her heart pounding as though it were some poor frightened animal trapped in a cage much too small for it, and she breathed, "Oh ... yes! Make love to me ... fuck me, darling. Fuck me." She moaned loudly and abandoned herself, giving herself completely to this man who was not her husband.
Gene took his mouth from hers and leaned back from her trembling, expectant body. His eyes feasted on the long slender legs and thighs covered by nylons, at the incredibly exciting creamy upper thighs above the tops of her hosiery, at the black garterbelt, and at her back bikini panties pulled down just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of the magnificent pelt of golden pubic hair above pink, clasping cuntal lips where his finger worked imperiously ... at will ... along the moist, hot, slippery walls.
Then, abruptly, Janice felt his hands move away from her body. "What? What..." she began, stifling a plea to come back. She opened her eyes and saw Gene standing in front of her. Her gaze locked on the huge bulge in his pants where his prick raged against its confinement.
"Stand up, Janice," he said.
"What?" She didn't understand.
"Stand up, darling. I'm going to undress you."
Her breath caught at this unexpected command, then ... actually blushing because she was going to have to be a willing participant and not a passive one ... she started up from the couch. When she stood fully erect, her dress ... already off both shoulders, fell in a heap on the floor. Her naked breasts were there, shining in the half-light; and her black panties were rolled halfway down over her smooth white hips.
Gene gazed at her. She had an absolutely incredible body! Nothing he had ever seen before could top this ... maybe one or two of the French chorus girls he had nicked in Vegas could come close to matching the body, but never before this combination of body and face. His voice surprised him; it sounded alien, hoarse, all choked up with desire, when he said, "My God, you're beautiful." He took a step forward, kneeled in front of her and, with one quick sure motion, put out both hands and peeled her flimsy black panties down to her ankles. He gently lifted her right leg and disengaged her foot from the panties, then took them off the other foot.
His eyes focused on the nylons held up by the black garterbelt and he decided to leave stockings and garterbelt on her; the nylons would feel tremendously sensual against his own bare buttocks when she wrapped those long legs around him. Still kneeling before her, he looked up ... up ... up, past the tops of the nylons hosiery, and saw and smelled the enticing female aroma ... for the first time at this angle ... the softly pouting lips of her cunt... all pink and shining from her oozing vaginal lubricant. He thought about eating her pussy while she was standing, but some instinct told him to wait until he got her lying flat on the couch. Even though he had made the decision, he still found himself raining kisses on her nylon-encased legs and thighs, working his way from calf to thigh.
Janice stood there, legs apart, feeling spasmodic jolts of ecstasy surge throughout her entire body with each kiss he planted on her nylons. She could feel the heat of his lips through the material of the hosiery, could feel the cool rush of air playing over her bare buttocks and breasts. For some reason or another, she felt deliciously lewd, just standing here wearing only garter belt and stockings. But then she forgot everything when his hot lips came into contact with the nude flesh above the top of her nylons. He rained kisses on both thighs and used his tongue to lick the inner part of her thighs from just above the point wliere the stocking ended to ... to ... She stiffened as his lips suddenly leapt from thigh to navel. A wild, never before experienced excitement began to burn in her. His kisses were traveling over abdomen to hips and he was gently tugging at her figure to turn her around... obediently, she turned and now his lips were moving over the lower part of her back ... and then to her slightly trembling buttocks. It came to her suddenly that this might be a partial explanation of the term Bette had used earlier in the day when she had said, "Going down on me." She knew also, instinctively, that it must mean more than this ... that something else must happen. Whatever it was called, his lips and kisses on her bare flesh had started things happening in her body. She could actually feel her vagina contracting and releasing, push and pull, in a violent rhythm of love ... as if his penis were actually in there moving in and out. Her breasts had begun to ache, and her body was beginning to tremble uncontrollably.
Janice had never felt so weak, so helpless before in her life. She stood there, waiting for whatever was to happen next, as Gene's lips left her buttocks and he stood. He put hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him again. Their mouths crashed together hungrily, and his tongue fucked in and out of her mouth rapaciously. Then, still French-kissing, he eased her down onto the couch. She sat back, then lay back, face up, as Gene put her legs in the position he wanted them, with one leg on the floor and the other bent at the knee and pressed against the back of the couch.
Janice lay there, mesmerized, as Gene stood erect again and quickly pulled off shoes and sox, stripped off tie and shirt, and then dropped his pants and undershorts at exactly the same moment. She saw him standing there above her, just as naked as she, his face gazing down at her with unconcealed lust. Her eyes traveled down from handsome face to broad muscular shoulders, and flat belly. She saw his pubic hair for the first time in eight years ... saw his penis clearly for the first time in eight years. It seemed much larger than she remembered; it certainly was thicker and larger than Dan's ... but not by much. The thick rigid penis stood out proudly, like a king's scepter, from his curly patch of black hair. Even as she watched it, it jerked as though it were trying to reach out for her. Its huge, bloated, purplish head seemed to throb with an unbelievable virility. Once again she thought of taking its hardness in her mouth and sucking, nibbling on it as he had sucked and nibbled so deliciously on her breasts. Her mouth, dry moments before, had begun salivating.
"Do you like it, darling?" Gene asked softly, watching as her body twisted seductively on the pony skin couch ... as though she were trying to grind the pony skin hair into her buttocks. "Christ, he thought, the way she's looking at my cock almost makes me think she wants to suck it off.
"Yes ... oh, yes," she moaned. "I like it. It's... beautiful."
Gene knew he was going to worm his tongue up into that delectable young pussy before he shoved his cock into it, and he deliberated the possibilities of a sixty-nine. But again, his sure infallible instincts told him that such a thing might be a little premature; later, definitely! but she'd have to be brought along. He just couldn't understand it. Married to a dish like this for seven years and old Dan Morgan probably never has gone down on it ... and, if I'm right, never had her sucking on his cock, even though she looks starved for it.
Janice was beginning to feel the fires of impatience, when she saw him lower himself onto the couch beside her. His bare hip touched her rib cage and she jumped as if seared by a branding iron. His head dipped once again to her fevered breasts. She groaned as he took first one nipple, then the oilier, into his voracious mouth. He licked and bit and sucked until Janice wanted to scream out in delight. Waves of pure sensation rippled throughout her entire body. She could feel it from nipple to toes.
Now Gene's head dipped lower, as he used his tongue to sketch a portrait of lust between tits and belly button. He kissed and sucked and gently bit at the hotly sensitive areas where hipbone serves as an anchor for supple flesh that flares out to become globes of the buttocks, and his kisses rained over the sides of her buttocks.
Then abruptly, she was aware that his tongue and mouth were coming back again to the front, and that he had moved down until he was kneeling between her outspread thighs. His tongue flicked once at her navel, then drew a straight uninterrupted line to her pubic hair. He breathed hotly into the softness of the sparse golden pelt, and it was at that moment Janice realized what Gene O'Hare was going to do next and knew the throbbing target of his fevered lips and tongue.
"No," she said, and attempted to sit upright. "No ... that's wrong." It was terribly wrong what he was about to do... perverted, dirty!
Gene heard her words; they sounded sincere, and that caused him to grin inwardly because he knew now, positively, that her husband had never done this to her ... for if he had gone down on her, she wouldn't be protesting; she would know how wonderful it was! He remained where he was, kneeling between her widespread legs, his fingers digging into the soft warm flesh of her inner thighs. His eyes paid homage to the wonderful little mouth of sex, all pink and oozing love from the pair of cunt-al lips pulsating gently on either side of it. It was the shrine, he the pilgrim who had travelled a long distance to pay worshiping homage.
"No ... Gene ... please," she moaned. "You can't..."
"I can, darling. Just lie there. I want to do this for you. This is one of the most exquisite things a woman can feel. Lie there, let me do the work for a minute. I'm going to kiss and lick your pussy. Oh, if you only knew how beautiful your little cunt is, how I've wanted to do this for you. I'm going to lick and suck at your clitoris; you'll scream with joy. I'm going to bury my tongue deep into your cunt... and I'm going to suck and lick until you cum."
The salacious words and what they implied, the visual imagery of what was about to happen, caused Janice to begin shaking with a wanton, uncontrollable desire. She was about to permit a degenerate act to be done to her down there between her helplessly open legs ... only only permit it, but knowingly encourage it to be done because her body was crying out for it. She knew that her pelvis had felt as though it were about to rise eagerly toward his lips at any minute. Shame, guilt, fear ... all disappeared under the tidal wave of shameless lust. Nothing mattered any more. She wanted him to do it. His words had set fires in her loins, fires that rapidly roared out of control and vaporized willpower and conscience. She had never felt so completely at the mercy of a man before. She would consent to anything. Anything! Just so long as he did what he said he was going to do ... as long as he gave her relief and joy and happiness.
"Oh, Gene..." she whispered, then lay back, feeling the pony hair scratching against her bare shoulders and tickling the inner crevice of her buttocks. There was a movement on-the couch, then O'Hare said, "lift your hips." Eyes closed, she followed orders and felt a large pillow being shoved under her buttocks. Almost immediately, Gene began showering her belly with fervent kisses. His hot mouth moved up again to breasts, then to rib cage. He licked under her armpits and his tongue flicked and quivered all over her upper torso. Janice was about to go out of her mind with lust. Her hips had begun grinding a lewd sensuous circle around and around on the pillow, and her head started lolling from side to side. Finally, in a voice she hardly recognized as her own, Janice moaned, begging, "Do it... do it to me, please."
"Do what?" Gene asked, watching her lust contorted face, feeling his cock about to explode from excitement. -Christ, she was really turned on now ... she was about to fly right off the couch, and he hadn't even started the preliminaries.
"Lick me ... like you said. Suck me until I cum..."
Grinning in triumph, Gene moved slowly and tantalizingly down her abdomen again. He was deliberately tormenting her, turning her heat up higher and higher. Her pelvis was making little up-and-down motions as though it were blindly seeking something. Finally, not even he could stand the sweet torment any longer, so he roughly spread her thighs even farther apart, used his thumbs to separate her soft, hair-fringed vaginal lips, and then without warning savagely rammed his tongue deep into her cunt.
"Ohhhhlihhhhhh," Janice screamed as the long hot flesh slashed into her, harder and harder, and her body reacted with convulsive lurches. Her hands cruelly grasped his hair, as if attempting to rip it out by the roots, and seemingly tried to pull his tongue, his nose, his entire face deeper, ever deeper, into her long-starved vaginal cavity. She heard herself screaming incoherently, babbling. Above the sound of her wanton voice urging him on, she kept thinking, "Oh, my God! How beautiful, how exquisite! Why hasn't this happened to me before? Why? Why? Why? It feels so ... so ... wonder... fulllllL"
Gene continued his voracious sucking and tonguing of her hotly quivering young pussy his hands slipping up over her belly to her melonlike breasts once more, cupping and squeezing them continuously while his mouth and tongue slaved away with the fervent invasion of her widespread cuntal lips. The vacuum created by his voraciously sucking mouth made obscene noises that seemed to fill the room, and Janice reacted to the lewd sound as if it were the music of love ... as, indeed, it was. She clenched and clenched her hands constantly in his hair, and once, when she had grabbed his ear, it seemed as if she were about to rip it right off his skull. A low yelp of pain came from him, and it was only then that she reluctantly eased her pressure against his head. Now that Gene's wildly searching tongue had scoured the vaginal hollow, it began to seek the tiny, pulsating bud of her neglected clitoris.
Janice shrieked with obscenely growing pleasure when he took the hotly quivering button between his teeth and held it captive as his tongue made wicked, ecstatic little circles around and around it.
Janice's head had begun to flail in total abandonment from side to side; her hips were thrashing up and wown ... around and around ... as she sought to bring other erotic nerve endings into play with the tongue.
O'Hare made an elongated oval of his mouth and began to suck with the tremendous pressure of a vacuum tube, all the while moving his tongue downward along the incredibly smooth, warm slit. He licked from clitoris to a point close to the anus, feeling the soft curling pubic hair, teasing aginst his lips and cheeks, tasting the bittersweet honey of her feminine secretions, the slightly saline perspiration that brought a tantalizing sheen to her buttocks.
Janice's wails of delight had become continuous now; she no longer attempted to make sense ... no longer made sense ... unintelligible moans, groans, mewls, and grunts came babbling out her larynx. During it all her mind was screaming, "Beautiful ... oh, God! So ... beautiful ... so bea ... uuuuu ... teee ... ful." And, suddenly, somewhere in the far-off limits of her consciousness, she was aware of a velvet electricity building up and moving ... quietly and unobtrusively ... like San Sebastiano's summer fogs creeping in from the ocean. Only this wasn't cool like the fog, this was warm and violent. She arched her body up, seeking to intensify that electrical feeling.
Gene felt her pussy grind up greedily against his face and heard the sound of her breath increasing in tempo; he realized then that she was coming close to orgasm now, and a part of his mind exalted with the knowledge. By God, he thought she's going to get the surprise of her life when she cums. The knowledge that he was licking her where no one had ever licked before brought new strength to his tongue. He began to orally fuck her, harder and faster, deeper and harder, faster... faster ... faster, shoving his hard hot tongue up into her quivering, lust-dilated hole. He was rewarded by a shrill scream of pleasure when he swirled and flicked his tongue around the inner labia ... the sensitive, plusating interior lips of her vagina. She was coming closer, ever closer, and so he slipped his hands beneath her ass ... cupping it in his hands as though it were some sacrificial offering ... and shoved his face even harder between her widespread thighs. He watched her face up between her bouncing breasts and sank his teeth ... not brutally, but savagely enough to bring a pain ... into her clitoris once more, causing her to scream again ... an unholy shriek of pure animal lust, her lips curling in wild contortion back over the whiteness of her teeth.
Janice's wanton cries of passion filled the living room. She had long since burrowed her nakedness down into the pony hair couch ... and she could feel each individual hair invading her buttocks, could feel them under her armpits, on the back of her sweat-slippery neck. If his wonderful tongue hadn't been shoved deep into her vagina, she would have attempted to push the pony skin in there.
Abruptly, Gene dipped down and began shifting his shoulders ... first the left, then the right. He had them under her widespread thighs now, and began levering them up until they were draped over his shoulders. The entire alluvial fan of her helpless, excitedly flooding loins was now bared in naked abandonment to his wildy thrusting tongue and voraciously sucking mouth. He thrust his tongue in deeper than it had been at any time, and momentarily thought he could feel, with his tongue, the ending of her warm vaginal cavity and the beginning of her hot lonely uterus aching for a cock.
Janice knew she was moaning like a helpless animal in heat, and she didn't care. Nothing mattered any longer except that tongue which was carrying her to unsuspected heights of glory. Deep in her mind, a happy, ecstatic little voice kept crying out, "Oh, Gene... thank you ... oh, God... wonderful... good ... good ... ahhhhh.... God!" She was peaking, rapidly climbing to that familiar pinnacle of sensation which she knew would result in an orgasm. The climb had been more wonderful than with Dan ... more delightful, too ... and she knew she had long since passed the point of arousal where she had stopped with just a mere orgasm before. She had never seen this height before, and abruptly, O'Hare began doing something that drove her ahead of him ... higher ... higher ... higher into the forbidden rarified atmosphere of the supreme mountaintop.
Her buttocks had been jerking spasmodically beneath his powerful driving tongue, her pelvis had been whipping up and down with superhuman strength against his face, and her groans had turned to moans which had turned to shrieks of unexcelled rapture, when Gene slowly slipped his tongue out of her desperately clenching vagina. He made one tentative lick at her clitoris, which brought a shriek of delight from her, then began a devilishly slow downward licking toward the tiny puckered ring of her obviously virginal asshole. She gasped at the first searing contact, then tried to sit upright to see what he was doing. Her breath was coming now in huge gulping swallows which rasped and whistled through her lust-constricted throat. She took a deep breath and almost swallowed her tongue when her errant mind finally realized what Gene was about to do. Now her conscience really screamed at her; this was filthy, degenerate, vile and perverted. It was sinful, the ultimate sin! And even as her conscience cried out in dismay and protest, her hungry, traitorous loins had leapt up and spread her thighs wider of their own volition so he could bring his tongue into seething wet contact with the tiny, puckered little mouth.
Gene wasted no time; he thrust his tongue into the tight little hole and was rewarded with an uncontrollable quivering of her body as she raised her pelvis off the bed in an effort to give him additional depth and working room. He licked and sucked and continually rammed his tongue into the little asshole which gyrated in wanton abandonment; there was no taste except a salinity and slight pungency that reminded him of her pussy. Now, across his shoulders, her thighs had begun to quiver spasmodically and her heels had begun beating a tattoo of impending rapture on his spine and buttocks. She was close, so goddamned close that he could stop right now and she'd still cum without another thing being done to her. Let her cum! Let her cum first by tongue, then by cock. His cock soon had to have relief or his balls would swell up in pain and probably explode. He began to drive his tongue harder and harder into her anal passage, all the while exciting her clitoris with one hand and playing her breasts like a banjo with the other. Abruptly, as he heard her breath catch in what he knew was the beginning of the onslaught of a climax, he drew his tongue out of her asshole, returned it to her saliva and lubricant-drenched pussy, and used his mouth and tongue to orally fuck her while his nose scraped and rubbed the clitoris.
That did it!
Janice writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue until she no longer had control over anything. She took a deep breath as nerves began shorting out in her abdomen and a glow began somewhere in the area of her vagina. The glow did not remain a glow for more than a second; it was merely the beginning of a fire and earthquake which began wracking her love-starved loins and belly. Her head flailed like a puppet's caught on the string of an epileptic puppetmaster. The earthquake moved rapidly up the scale and suddenly she knew there was no longer any doubt about it. She was cumming! Cumming in his mouth.
She was cumming!
The scream was that of a banshee ... half-human, half-animal ... and it ripped from her lust contorted throat as though she were falling in space, toppling end over end toward the jagged rocks. "I'm cumming... Gene... Gene... GENE, I AM ... CUMMMM ... ING!" She locked her hands behind his head and used every bit of muscular power to shove his wonderful, pleasure-giving tongue and face further and deeper into her wildly pulsating genitals. Her love juices spurted wildly once into his mouth ... as though she were ejaculating ... and then began to flow copiously from her lust-spread cunt. The viscous liquid of love inundated Gene's face and tongue and, escaping his voraciously sucking mouth, began flowing down from pussy to tortured rectum, where it dropped against the bolster and gathered in a sticky pool on the pony skin couch. She continued to wail in rapture as the mercilessly pounding earthquake began to diminish; within seconds it had gone, but now dimly within her body she felt the roaring tidal wave of sensation cresting and breaking over her. Her delighted, almost incoherent scream told the story, "I'm cumming again ..."
Surprised, Gene felt her body begin twitching uncontrollably once more. The second orgasm had hit within thirty seconds of the first, and he hadn't done a thing except lick some of her cum from her outer vaginal lips. "Jesus," he said to himself, "she really was turned on." And then his surprise deepened even further for Janice obviously was cumming a thrid time ... all three climaxes occurring within a minute.
Somewhat in awe of what he had done, and a little apprehensive, Gene pulled his flushed, glistening face away from her loins and said, "Save some for me, darling."
Janice heard his voice from way, way off. The earthquake, the tidal wave, both were fading slowly. It had been so violently exquisite ... so beautiful... that she wanted to sleep ... to doze off with the memory of it still in her mind. Nothing could ever again be so exquisite, so perfect. She felt her legs being lowered from his shoulders, and, with a sigh of satiated exhaustion, she dropped her arms and let her head fall loosely back. Now her hips were being lifted as the bolster was removed. Now, the pony skin was scratching her buttocks once more. But even as she did this, there was a velvet expectancy once again in the deeper depths of her uterus and vaguely she perceived that she was cumming again ... only this tiny one was merely an aftershock, a little present from her body, a song, a memory, a poem to his tongue... small, but delightful.
Gene looked down at her sweat-streaked nakedness. She was taking deep, shuddering breaths of exhaustion and satiation. His apprehension returned again. She looked as if she had been fucking all night and was too tired to go again. He hoped her energy hadn't been depleted completely; he'd like a little life in the pussy. He lifted himself on his knees and moved up until he was over her body. "Jan... did you like that?"
She heard his voice and then, abruptly, she was inexplicably weeping. The tears had completely inundated her eyes in less than three seconds, and they were already flowing down her cheeks to splash on the pony skin couch. God, he had made her feel so vitally alive, so beautiful ... and she knew she had missed so much out of her life because of Dan's inadequacy and ignorance.
Alarmed, Gene asked, "Jan ... is everything all right,?"
Now she opened her eyes and gazed lovingly up at his face looming above her. She made no effort to answer at first, merely reached up with both hands and pulled his face down to her. She kissed him eagerly and in appreciation. She tasted her own cum, her own vagina. After a moment, she released him with the statement; "My darling ... it was ... was ... beautiful." And even as she said it, she realized how impotent that word "beautiful" was when it came to expressing her true feelings. "O'Hare ... I never realized anything could be so... so..." She couldn't finish.
Gene grinned in relief and satisfaction. "It's going to be even better because I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to put my cock where my tongue was a moment ago. It aches and cries out for you, it wants to fuck you... I want to shoot my load of hot, throbbing, cum deep in your belly, darling, deeper than anyone has ever been before. What you just had was only the beginning. You do want me to fuck you, don't you?"
His lewd obscenities were an aphrodisiac to her. Sensation was rapidly coming back to her vagina, and it was with complete and utter bewilderment that Janice realized her earlier hunger had returned tenfold. She wanted more of him, and so she told him using his own language, "Yes ... fuck me ... fuck me harder and deeper than I've ever been fucked before."
"Put it in for me," Gene ordered, lowering his hips toward her body.
Janice paused a moment, then reached down between their bodies and searched for his hardness. She found it immediately; it would have been impossible not to find it, as large and as hard as it was. She thrilled as her fingers wrapped around the hot throbbing instrument. She could feel every muscle, every tendon, every beating vein in that godshead. She enclosed it tightly in her fist, then stroked it, moving the pliant hot flesh up and down on the inflexible shaft. She was pleased when he moaned with delight from the touch of her hand and fingers; she wanted to delight him, to repay him some way. There were a lot of things she supposed she could do, but she had no knowledge of what he would consider dirty ... or unacceptable. Besides, the heat was building up rapidly in her loins. Her vagina wanted his penis in there ... wanted it in the worst way. Even now she imagined she could feel it sliding down through her waiting slipperiness. She stroked the prick two or three more times as Gene's hot lips, still tasting of her own body, came down on hers. Then she directed it toward her vagina ... pulling on it and holding it as though it were a divining rod in quest of water. Well, both she and it knew where the water was located! Gene lowered his body a bit more, and now his penis scraped her pubic hair. Janice pushed down on it and felt an indescribable jolt of pleasure shoot through her abdomen and inner thighs as the huge, Cyclopean head touched the still sensitive, still-flooded lips of her pussy. She used the prick to draw little circles of ecstasy around and around her cuntal lips; she moved it up and down, feeling it push deliciously, and hotly, against her once again erect clitoris. She even pushed it down, downward until it came into contact with her brown little puckered anal ring. She didn't leave it there for more than a split second; there was something forbidden, and she could not let her mind dwell on the possibilities. Now she moved it rapidly up and down her moistened fur-lined slit, feeling almost as if she were masturbating.
Gene was groaning with impatience. He felt her stroking his cock ... sometimes rapidly, almost frantically; other times slowly, questioningly, as though she had never been asked to put a prick into her vagina before and didn't know what to do. Once, he was almost positive she was hinting that he should push it in her rectum, but that impression had been so brief that he assumed he was wrong. Anyway, he thought, if the cock isn't in your rectum shortly, my dear, you can bet that I'll have at least two fingers pushed in there frigging the hell out of you! She continued to stroke him and it was so pleasurable that Gene decided to put an end to it before she used up some of his strength. "Put it in, now," he demanded.
Janice sighed, closed her eyes in rapture, and then centered the long white throbbing shaft at the opening to her vagina. Although she wanted him to go deep and hard, perversely she heard her own voice saying softly, "Do it to me slow ... and gentle... make it last forever..."
Because he wanted it to be perfect for her ... this first time, at least ... Gene curbed his own hot impatience and was gentle.
Janice felt the head of his penis pressing in at her vaginal opening. Reluctantly, her fingers left the trunk of the wonderfully warm instrument. The pressure at her cuntal lips continued for a moment, and gradually increased in strength until, with a slight plopping noise, the head moved inside her. "Ummmm," she crooned, "beautiful."
Gene felt the wonderful velvety warmness of her pussy enclose the head of his cock. It was much tighter than he had suspected, even though his tongue had just moments before scoured out the region. Dan must not use this very often, he thought, then quit thinking as he let sensations take command of his nerve centers and body control. Janice had begun a twitching motion with her vulva. She wasn't doing it on purpose; it was as though some racial memory handed down through centuries of genetic inheritances had told her pussy exactly what to do. To Gene it felt as though her deeper abdominal muscles had begun rippling ... almost as if some terribly sensual velvet-covered conveyor belt was trying to carry his cock in deeper, deeper, ever deeper into the heart of her womb.
Janice, widespread knees bent almost double, had both feet planted on the couch. As the first delicious sensation passed and there remained only the feel of his throbbing cockhead stuck about an inch into her vagina, she began to long for more depth, for friction, for movement, for... for... She put it into words, "Fuck me..." Using her feet and leg muscles, she raised her hips tentatively from the couch and discovered that the movement caused his penis to slide in another inch or two. "Ohhhh, God," she chanted, "... so ... wonder ... full." She dropped her hips and his male hardness slid out until only the head remained buried between the clasping pink lips of the cunt. She raised and the cock moved in further, fell back and felt it partially withdraw.
Amused, Gene grinned down at these first little movements which betrayed her intense hunger; he was laughing mainly at himself for his earlier stupid uncertainty over whether she had any energy left or not. Christ, he thought, she's got enough fuel left in that hot little pussy to put us both into orbit. She's acting like a goddamned kid let loose for the first time in her life in a candy store and told she can have anything and everything she wants. She punched up her pelvis again, moaning this time in frustration, and Gene decided it was time to end the game. Slowly ... very slowly ... he pushed his impatient prick inward. It slipped easily through the inner muscles, down through the soft, hotly dripping walls of her vaginal cavity, and pushed against the muscles of her uterine opening.
Janice's eyes rolled back in her head from the sheer rapture of the slow entry. She had never believed that a penis's first thrust could be so heavenly, but then, of course, she had never been so aroused, so lubricated before, either. Down ... down ... down ... into her it went. She exalted with each new territory invaded. Finally, after what seemed to be a long eternity, Gene was in his full length. She could feel the bristles of the short hair on his softly swaying testicles tickling her anus. She could feel the head buried deep inside of her, throbbing imperiously against her cervix ... could feel every fleshy, muscular little ridge of the penis pressing against her vaginal walls. And over it all, she could feel overwhelming contentment and happiness.
Gene's penis seemed to be in considerably deeper than her own husband's had ever been, but that might be explained by the fact that she had her pelvis pushed up tightly against Gene's pubic hair ... as if she couldn't get enough of him inside her. Vaguely now, she realized that Gene so far had been "making love" to her. He called it "fucking," but he was wrong; this wasn't fucking at all. She wasn't sure exactly how she knew the difference between the two acts. Dan fucked her, and she wasn't complaining about the act of fucking in his case; it was just that it didn't last long enough ... wasn't savage enough. Gene, though, was causing her body to react in song and rapture, but now she wanted some gravel and thorns to go with that satin and velvet.
Now Gene began to withdraw slowly, then thrust inward slowly again. He was moving in and out of her with his eyes closed in deep appreciation. God, he had never before in his life felt a cunt that seemed so perfect for his own cock. She was milking him with her uterine and vaginal muscles; the only time that had ever happened before was when he had gone to a whorehouse and some incredibly experienced and dexterous whore had worked him over. There had been one in San Francisco once who asked him to put his prick inside her and then lie completely still. Without moving a single part of her body, the prostitute had begun working the muscles of her snatch. They rippled inward ... feeling like an incredibly soft washboard being pulled along the entire length of his cock; then they rippled outward ... then twitched and quivered until it felt as though he were getting a blow job from an octopus. It had been the greatest! And yet, that artificial woman and her routine faded into insignificance when compared with the shy and genuine little nib-blings that were going on inside Janice's vagina right now. There was one set of muscles that worked on the head of his cock, squeezing it then releasing it, squeezing, releasing, until he thought he would go out of his mind. Another set of muscles, somewhere in the area just below the inner lips of the vagina, were moving sideways back and forth against the sensitive underpart of his trunk ... all of this going on at the same time she was rising to meet each of his thrusts.
Janice realized that somehow or another, automatic reflexes had taken over her body... and that was fine, because she was able to concentrate on feeling ... pure sensation, pure feeling! She felt muscles working, hips rotating against the cock, felt her fingers kneading Gene's powerful shoulder muscles ... felt all this, but did not will any of it to happen. Her body was alive with sure independent motion ... her brain could relax and let the incredibly wonderful sensations roll over it. Time simply dissolved into nothingness. She didn't know how long those maddeningly beautiful slow, gentle strokes had been plowing into her, but gradually she began to feel that it was not enough. She wanted more, and put her request into words, "Fuck me harder, Gene ... fuck har- der."
That suited him just fine. It had been fabulous ... this fucking in slow motion, but it had been terribly distracting as well. She was almost making him cum through use of her vaginal muscles, and he really hadn't had a chance to get in a little energetic fucking yet. "Alright, baby. You want it harder, you'll get it harder."
Abruptly, he reached down and locked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted them until her knees were pressed tightly against her chest. Janice's eyes had widened at this unexpected occurrence; she had no way of knowing that this one particular position would add at least two inches to his thrusts into the heart of her womb. She felt a momentary twinge of embarrassment at the fact that her crotch was in midair, helpless ... defenseless ... but that faded instantly when Gene grunted, "Here it comes, baby." He pulled his prick out until only the head remained locked between the clasping cuntal lips, then slammed down, down, down ... the cock roaring like a runaway express train as it burrowed far deeper than anyone or anything had ever been before.
"Aaaaagggggh," she screamed in sheer exhaltation. His prick slammed against the tip of her cervix and went on beyond this into the heated, lonely void of her uterus. God, he was in so deep that it seemed his cock was lodged midway between navel and breasts. He was in at least three inches, maybe four inches, further than Dan had ever penetrated. There was almost seven inches of long, hard, hot prick inside there, inside her, throbbing away like a second heart. Her vagina felt stretched beyond repair, crammed well beyond its limited capacity. And yet, even as she was thinking all this, she could feel her deeper inner muscles welcoming this invader. One eager little muscle jumped and twitched against the glans, another rubbed continuously against the corona. And she thrilled at his groans of appreciation and delight.
Now, clamping his hot, wet mouth over hers, he began a slow, rocking motion between her thighs. Each new powerful thrust inward went to new and previously unexplored depths of her pussy. The head of his cock soon was master of it all down there, and with each jerking throb, it was a little cannon making tiny explosions which seared the soft, sensitive flesh. His motions soon widened the narrow, pliant passage, and every stroke brought an abject groan of sheer lust from her craven throat.
Gene, hearing her mewls of subservience, began pounding into her with a fury he did not realize existed. His hipbones crashed into the back of her thighs with each stroke and his testicles hit the trembling walls of her buttocks like a wrecking ball. He wanted to hear her cry "Uncle," he wanted her to know that she had been fucked as she never had been before__he wanted, through some perversity of his own soul, to make her sorry that she had gone eight years without having been nicked by him ... and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was accomplishing all these things, and the real reason for doing all this was not revenge, not egotism, but the desire to bring pleasure to her so she would want him to fuck her again and again in the future.
Janice had long since stopped thinking about what was being done to her; she was too busy trying to find new avenues of enjoyment, new sensations by twisting her pelvis first one way then the other. She found by clenching her bowel muscles that she could bring her clitoris into continual contact with that long hard rod driving in and out of her being. She had surrendered totally to this man lying between her open legs, and she unashamedly worshipped that hot part of him that skewered so wetly, so powerfully into her.
Her body was beginning to twist and writhe now, and her sounds became one long sustained mewl as she groaned into his mouth, shoving her tongue deep into his throat. She was animal, she knew she was an animal, and she loved being one. She was also servile, accepting anything done to her, relishing the taint of masochism in her soul, wanting more ... more ... more that she was getting. She was the portrait of pure wantonness: face wrung with passion, nostrils flaring like some wild mare being mounted by a stallion, neck tendons taut as cables, eyes hot and vacant with lust.. As if sensing her need for another new experience, Gene released her knees from her chest; she immediately wrapped her legs around his buttocks and used her calves to drive him in deeper. Gene slipped his hands down over the naked flaring of her hips and slid them beneath the soft, smooth moons of her desperately thrashing buttocks. He cupped them harshly with each hand and began kneading them like bread dough as he thrust his prick in with a greater frenzy.
Janice subconsciously flexed and unflexed her straining vaginal muscles as his fingers dug deeply into the white, supple flesh of her ass. He jerked her harder up to his cock, and she spread her thighs even further, inviting him to do what he willed, as she spread open the hot, wet hole of her cunt in obscene welcome. He pounded into her with a fury, then ... without warning ... changed technique again and began making smooth, longer strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her clasping vagina before plunging forward into her uplifted pussy. It was then she felt his right hand stop its kneading motion on her ass and begin moving into the crevice of her buttocks itself. She felt his middle finger tentatively search, then find, her unprotected and completely defenseless, puckered little hole.
He pressed inward and she felt the soft, rubbery flesh down there yield reluctantly. "Ohhhhh, God, that hurts," she said, twisting her buttocks in an effort to get away; the motion was hopeless, though, for his cock had her skewered like a hopelessly impaled butterfly on a collector's display board. The groan bubbled from her lips in pained protest as his finger continued its unnatural invasion of her rectum. "Eeeeeaahhh, don't... Gene."
He thrust even harder, and now she saw the cruel smirk on his handsome face as he took pleasure in hearing her sounds of subjugation.
"Ouuugggh," she cried, as her exposed asshole received another thrust.
Gene, however, was not about to withdraw his finger. He could feel the rubbery resilience of her rectum, and he could also feel the quivering muscles in there which gave lie to her protests. She didn't know it yet, but her body was really enjoying the almost brutal fucking he was subjecting her to. Soon she would be begging. He began working his finger around inside, stretching the puckered little anal ring ever wider and wider as his cock continued pounding mercilessly into her wide- stretched vagina.
Janice felt a second finger poised at the opening to her back passage, then it, too, was inside ... working in unison with the first finger ... in rhythm with his prick. The deep guttural protests coming from her chest began gradually changing from whimpers of pain to low moans of new increased pleasure as her rectum became used to this strange invasion.
Within seconds she was shamelessly skewering her anus back onto his fingers as O'Hare probed them methodically around in the warm, rubbery depth. New sensations of delight rippled through her abdomen and up her spine. She knew she was hopelessly impaled and helpless between the hard driving rod of flesh buried deep in her womb and those cruel, merciless .., wonderful ... fingers that wormed hotly in and out of her asshole.
She was squealing like a stuck pig, twisting and writhing in wantonness under this double rape of her naked, widespread loins, when suddenly she knew she was about to cum. She fought her own body against the orgasm; she didn't want to cum ... not yet. All this was too beautiful to end, to change. She tightened up all of her muscles, but that only intensified the hot vibrations that were beginning to reverberate like a gong in the heart of her stomach.
Gene felt the change in her body, felt the sudden heating up of her vaginal passage, and knew she was rapidly approaching a climax. Beneath him, Janice had begun to chant, "Oh, oh, ohhhhhh," with each breath. The knowledge that she was about to cum caused his own excitement to build to a fever pitch; he wanted to cum with her, at the same time. There would be more later, he knew that for a fact; he felt he could cum a hundred times with her, could fuck all night, all day, all week ... forever! And so, he yanked his fingers from her tortured asshole, and quickened the rhythm of his thrusts, grinding hard and deep, boring persistently into the hidden recesses of her pussy.
Janice's senses were rapidly leaving her now. There was nothing left except that exquisite pressure building up in her loins; she was only vaguely aware of his lips leaVing her mouth to clamp hotly on her right breasts, of the feel of his testicles hammering at her ravaged anus, of his hands moving across her abdomen to add additional titillation to her clitoris. The pressure of the impending orgasm almost frightened her in its intensity. It was death. She would die from it. This was it!
"Ohhhhh, Gee ... ne," she wailed, "fuck harder ... I'm c u m m i n g ... I'm cumming ... againnnnn__!"
She writhed seeking one last ecstatic thrust before the dam inside of her broke. His cock was a huge battering ram slamming into the portals of all her sensitivity, and the vibrations from the blows made her tingle from every follicle of her golden hair to the tip of her toes. This all had to be a dream ... it was all too beautiful to be true. Then, gradually ... the dam crumbled and the wave of ecstasy was upon her.
She screamed loudly, "Oooohhhhhh, God! I'M ... I ... I'M CUM ... MMMMMM ... INNNNNNGGGGG." She jerked upward once with superhuman strength, then fell back, convulsing epilepticly on the pony skin couch. Her legs beat against the softness of the cushions and her breath came in hoarse rasping gasps, as the violent, but exquisite, seizure rocked and wracked her body. She felt, momentarily, that she was one gigantic vagina, cumming, that every part of her was part of it ... and rejoicing. Even above her own pleasure, however, was the sudden knowledge that the beautifully long hot rod that had carried her to this peak of glory was pumping hot/thick spurts of male sperm deep up into her quivering belly. His hot liquid message of love mingled with her juices, and they formed a pool of bliss that shimmered and shone in the no-longer-lonely void of her uterus.
Her heart was pounding as though it were about to leap from her breast and a great lassitude akin to death, itself, swept over her. Her legs went limp, her hands fell to her side, and with the last vestiges of her rapidly fading consciousness she felt her vagina still quivering, still attempting to pay homage to the throbbing shaft of love still buried deep deep inside. She was fainting .. perhaps even dying, she thought ... then simply let go ... let it all go away ... and drifted, drifted into sweet oblivion. Her last thought before the darkness came was, "Now... I know ..."
As for O'Hare? He stared unbelievingly down at Janice's unconscious figure. Christ, what was there about her that had caused him to get so hot? Always before with other broads he had been able to control his own passion, but not with her! Even now, asleep, her vaginal muscles continued to twitch occasionally around his cock. He honestly couldn't remember when he had cum as much as he did with her. He had flooded her womb with jism, and it had poured out of him and out of her as though someone had forgotten to turn off the tap. And his own reactions to all this bothered him; they were alarming thoughts ... things he really didn't want to think about. He had wanted to fuck her ... had wound up making love to her. Staring at her now, he felt only a great and bottomless gratitude to her and that wonderful young pussy. Most alarming of all, though, was the knowledge that he wanted to keep her, to protect her, to give her all the things a fabulous woman like her deserved to have. Slowly, and reluctantly, he pulled his flaccid cock from between her thighs and it came out with a slight plop, and with it came a veritable river of their warmly intermingled love juices.
"Janice," he said softly. There was no answer. Gently, he picked her naked form up in his arms and carried her across the room, down the long hallway, and to his bedroom. He placed her, still asleep, on the king-sized bed ... then covered her nude body to protect it from the cold.
Then, thoughts still churning about his own reactions to her, he lay down beside her, covered himself with the same bedspread, and went to sleep.
Chapter 5
Bette pulled down two mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the table, then poured coffee from the yellow Corning Ware percolator. She shook her head in amazement. "Oh, wow! When you take the bit in your teeth, you really go, go, go!" she exclaimed, staring at Janice in complete fascination. "And then what happened?"
Janice watched steam rise like fog from the surface of her coffee mug. She arched one eyebrow and bit her lower lip before answering; two dimples appeared ... one on each cheek. "Well ... I didn't wake up until it was light outside, but I woke up the most beautiful way imaginable ... Gene was caressing me." She blushed and took a careful sip from the coffee. "We... ah ... made love. Then we took a shower together and made love again with me bending over in the shower."
"Yeh ... yeh ... go on." Without taking her eyes off the other girl, Bette reached out for a piece of Melba toast, bit into it, and chewed rapidly, excitedly; it sounded as if she were grinding bones between her teeth.
Janice giggled slightly, remembering the event, "Well ... that was all. I found my clothes scattered all over the front room; I dressed ... and Gene drove me down the hill, and I walked here."
Bette sighed deeply. "Wild. Unimaginably, beautifully wild. When are you going to see him again?"
"That's what Gene wanted to know, too."
"Well?"
"Not for a while, I think. I told him this morning that I was leaving Dan, and I am."
"Jan! You can't be serious. I mean... you aren't ... are you?"
Janice merely nodded. "I guess I've been subconsciously thinking about it for a long time. I probably would have left him even if I hadn't discovered last night how wonderful sex can really be."
Bette opened her mouth twice to say something, but then apparently thought better of it. She lifted both eyebrows and shrugged.
Janice felt the need to make her understand. "Look, Bet. If I thought there was any chance of changing Dan, I'd stay. But there isn't, and you know it as well as I do. He's just impossible. Selfish. I've worked ever since we got married and paid my share of the mortgage on the house, yet he still refers to it as 'his' house. He doesn't really want a wife. He's never home! I see him about fifteen hours a week. He hasn't taken me out to dinner for two and a half months. He makes love to me whenever he feels the urge; if I have a need, it's just too damned bad usually. It's a hell of a way to spend what are supposed to be the best years of my life, and I simply am not going to put up with it any longer.
Bette was solemn. "It's even worse, though, being by yourself. I mean, with no man at all around the house."
Janice smiled. "I don't plan to be single for too long."
"Gene O'Hare?"
"Not necessarily. It may be someone I haven't even met yet."
"You could do worse than Gene ..."
"And I might be able to do better, too. I won't know, really, until I find out. Will I?"
"When you going to tell Dan?"
"Before he leaves on his precious little hunting trip."
Bette grimaced. "Too late. They left early ... right after the shift ended."
Janice had opened her mouth in angry protest, when Bette continued. "I meant to tell you, but I got sidetracked by the story of your adventures last night. Dan called here, wanting to know where you were. He sounded awfully mad."
"What did you tell him?" Janice felt a momentary stab of guilt, and a bit of fright.
"I told him you were still angry and had gone to a motel to sleep. He wanted to know which one, and I told him I didn't know. Then he said to give you a message."
"So?"
"He said, 'Tell her to get her ass home or I'll kick it home when I find her!"
The vehemence in her own voice surprised even Janice, "And you can tell that selfish son of a bitch to go to hell."
Bette blinked her eyes rapidly in mock embarrassment, "Why, Janice Morgan! I am shocked by the violence of your language. My ... my ... my!" She giggled. "It's scandalous."
Janice was forced to laugh at the other's obviously phony expression of shock. The laughter lasted only a second, however, for the seriousness of the matter soon overwhelmed them both.
"What are you going to do, honey?" Bette asked after a moment of silence.
Janice sighed. "I don't know. Everything has happened so rapidly that I just haven't had a chance to think about it,"
Bette thought for a moment. "You know," she said, "you won't be able to get hold of an attorney on the weekend. Everything's closed down until Monday. Why don't you come on up to the city with me? Huh?"
"Oh ... I'd better not," Janice replied automatically. Actually, though, the idea did have merit. She would be away from familiar surroundings, and that should enable her to think things out a bit more clearly. There really was only one reason why she hesitated, and that was because of Bette's talent for picking up men.
The other girl apparently sensed the indecision because she began coaxing. "Come on. It'll do you good."
"Yes, I know. But I'd just be a hindrance to you. I wouldn't want to get involved."
Bette held up both hands in a peace gesture.
"I'll be good. I swear I will. I won't drop my panties for anyone." She grinned impishly, then continued, "Come on. Please?"
Janice abruptly gave in. "All right," she said, and the moment the words were out of her mouth, she realized that she was excited about making the trip to San Francisco with her friend. "What should I take along to wear?"
"Your blue suit for shopping, and your ... ah ... black silk crepe little number for the evening. Wear your red knit on the way up. We'll leave ... oh ... say eleven ... and have lunch up there. Okay?"
"Fine."
Fifteen minutes later, Janice was in her own home pulling out travel clothes from the closet. She carefully packed them in the blue suitcase she had planned to take to Yosemite, then began making a selection of lingerie and bed clothes. It was only after she had rejected several nylon gowns that she abruptly realized that all of the items of clothing had been subconsciously selected so she would look good to a male. This knowledge so startled and frightened her that for a moment she wanted to telephone Bette and bow out of the trip. Then, heart pounding with emotions she couldn't fathom, she tossed in an expensive black lace peignoir.
She stared at it in the suitcase for a moment then shook her head emphatically, "I am not going to bed with a complete stranger, that's for sure."
And some wee voice way back in her head said mockingly, "That's what you said about Gene O'Hare, less than forty-eight hours ago."
"That was different," Janice said aloud. "I am not going to let any man touch me this weekend."
She continued to mentally repeat the statement all the way to San Francisco, and even then she was not completely sure she believed it herself ... for down there, between her thighs, in that dark, warm heart of her femaledom, a strange tingling had begun ... an awakened craving for something, a hunger that even she didn't yet fully understand.
Chapter 6
Janice began suffering some misgivings the exact moment the doorman ... wearing a uniform that would have turned the London Beefeater Guards green with envy ... opened the car door and with great pomp assisted her in alighting from Bette's automobile in front of the famed Jackson Francisco Hotel. She felt her face beginning to blush as she saw the frankly appraising and admiring glances of five businessmen, with baggage piled alongside them, who were waiting for the airport taxi.
When Bette came around the rear of the car, shamelessly swishing her hips in a tiny lavender suede micro-mini that shockingly left very little to the imagination, one of the men nudged the other and shook his head sadly, "That's the story of my life," he said, "always a day late."
As she passed the group, Bette cocked one eyebrow up at him and said archly, "Eat your heart out, boys." The men laughed uproariously, and Janice thought she would positively faint from embarrassment. Bette giggled as they followed the bell captain and their luggage across the spacious foyer. "He was cute," she said of the businessman.
Janice had opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it as they reached the main desk.
Registration was relatively painless and Janice learned they had been assigned one of the Empress suites, two bedrooms and two baths overlooking the bay. She was afraid to ask what it cost, and hoped that split two ways the room wouldn't be too exorbitant.
Bette glanced around as they crossed the lobby following the bellboy and their luggage toward the elevators. "Gee, this joint is simply crawling with good-looking men," she said quietly to Janice, with a touch of awe in her voice and managing to sound like an impoverished orphan making her first visit to a toystore.
Janice noticed a sudden grin on the face of the bell man, a darkly handsome, Spanish-looking youth about twenty-two. He obviously had heard the remark. "He must think we're both a couple of women on the make," Janice said angrily to herself. "I do wish Bette would keep those comments to herself, or at least until we're safe in our rooms."
As they waited for the elevator, Bette began chatting with the youth, who was about her height, and not as tall as Janice. Within forty seconds Bette had elicited the information that he was Cuban and a student at San Francisco State, that most of the men in the lobby were registered delegates at the annual convention of western petroleum engineers, that the engineers were having a free cocktail party on the third floor starting at six, that he got off work at ten, that his name was Richard. "Ricardo, actually," he said almost defiantly, "but I changed that five years ago."
The elevator arrived. They moved in. Richard punched the button, and the door whispered shut. As the cage moved quietly and rapidly up toward their fifteenth-floor suite, Janice found her eyes automatically coming back time and again to the youth's skin-tight uniform. It was almost indecent, she thought, more like a male ballet dancer's tights than a hotel employee. She could swear she saw the elongated outline of his tightly confined penis on the inside of his right thigh. It couldn't be that, though. My God, it hangs halfway to his knees, she thought. She blinked and looked up. He was grinning knowingly at her. A sudden rush of heat to her face made Janice turn away in confusion.
The door hissed open, and Richard said, "Follow me, please." He stepped out onto the deep pile carpet, pushing the luggage dolly in front of him.
Janice felt a slight sense of outrage ... mainly at herself for losing her poise. After all, he was only a hotel employee, a mere boy. And he'd better watch that suggestive smirk, or she would personally see that the manager disciplined him. The nerve! All of these thoughts were boiling through her mind as she meekly followed her baggage.
When she glanced toward Bette, she found that the redhead was speculatively watching the same thing as Janice ... the boy's rippling ass muscles, clearly defined under his tight pants. It looked almost as though he was not wearing any undergarments at all; one could almost see the dimples in his buttocks. His sure muscular stride reminded Janice of a male cheetah she had seen once pacing back and forth in its cage.
Richard threw open the door and ushered them ceremoniously into the room. "Your suite, ladies," he said. "One bedroom is in pink, the other in lavender. What luggage shall I put in each?"
Bette made an exaggerated shrug and held out her hands, palms up. "Jan? Any preference?"
Janice shook her head dumbly. The luxury of the room made her incapable of speech. A huge panoramic window from ceiling to floor overlooked the Golden Gate bridge, the waterfront tourist attractions, and Alcatraz. It was absolutely an incredible view and just had to be terribly expensive. There was even a fireplace! Color television. A bar!
Bette took command, and Janice immediately wished that she had made her own decision, for the redhead had glanced coyly at the Cuban youth and said, in a voice that simply oozed sex, "Which bed ... ah... bedroom do you think I'd look best in? Hummmm?"
It was Janice who spotted it, maybe she had been looking for it all along, but she saw the almost imperceptible crawl of that snakelike thing beneath his pants. There was no longer any doubt about it. That is his penis! Good Lord! He must be built like an animal. And abruptly she was frightened. He's getting an erection! She had never seen anything so awesomely obscene in her entire life. Intuitively, she stepped closer to Bette for support, but realized almost immediately that neither the youth nor her red-headed friend were paying any attention to her. Their eyes were locked together; his glowing with an animal luster, Bette's almost mesmerized. It was as if they were speaking telepathically, tuned in on their own ESP band which no one else could hear.
Richard was the first to look away, but it was not in defeat... there was triumph shining in his dark eyes and written on his face. "I think," he said slowly, "that you will find the bed in the lavender room most satisfactory."
He turned to Janice, almost disdainfully, as though she were of little importance and therefore beneath his notice. "Madam will find the pink bedroom comfortable."
For a split-second Janice wanted to reach out and slap his sardonic little face. She felt her anger churning and then, wanting to put him in his place, she gazed down at him and said in her most patronizing tone, "Thank you, boy. Now if you will just do your job and put my luggage ... the blue cases ... in my room, we won't detain you any longer."
Bette looked startled at the unexpected venom in Janice's voice. She appeared almost ready to come to the bellboy's defense, but then apparently thought better of it.
Richard merely nodded subserviently ... almost too much so ... and wheeled his cart into the room to the left. Janice did not follow him.
"What gives?" Bette hissed.
"I can't stand that insufferable little ..."
"That's not like you. Now don't be nervous. Everything's going ..." she broke off and smiled broadly as Richard came back into the sitting room with only the red cases left on his dolly. Quickly, she turned and followed him.
Janice heard her exclamation, "Oh, it's such a beautiful room." The bellboy's answer was not loud enough for Janice to make out what he said, and then even Bette's voice seemed to drop a decibel. The low murmur of their voices continued for a moment, and Janice heard a suitcase being put loudly on the shelf. Then there was no talk at all that she could hear. They were in the room an embarrassingly long time, it seemed, but then their voices were heard again and both made their appearance in the front room. Bette's face looked flushed, and Janice could have sworn that her skirt was twisted around slightly.
Richard had his smirk on his face again. That and something else ... a slight redness on his lips and an undisguisable bulge along the inside of his right thigh. The latter was so plain that Janice could even see the outline of the coronal ridge separating the head of his penis from the trunk.
He stepped to the door, nodded again, and prepared to leave.
"Just a minute," Janice snapped. "I believe we forgot to tip you."
"The other lady has already taken care of that," he said.
"Yes, well I feel I would like to pay my share as well." Janice opened her purse. She deliberated about tipping him a dollar, and then seeking some sort of vengeance, smiled patronizingly again and pulled out a dime. "Here you are... boy."
Richard glanced down at the coin. A look of anger flashed across his face but it was so quickly suppressed that Janice was not really sure she had seen the expression at all. Then he smiled, took the profferred coin, and bowed. "Madam is most generous," he said.
The moment he disappeared out the door, Bette spun on her and demanded, "Alright. What is wrong? I've never seen you like this. Why ... why, you were actually rude to him."
"I didn't like his smirking face, for one thing. He looked at us as though we were a couple of whores checking in for the convention crowd."
"Oh, now, Janice! Be sensible. You're just on edge. After all," she added, and rolled her eyes suggestively, "you really didn't get much sleep last night."
Janice decided to drop the matter. She shrugged. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. He's just a creep, that's all."
Bette held out her hand full length, inspecting her fingernails. She answered, almost too casually, "Oh, I wouldn't ... ah ... say that. As a matter of fact, he seems quite a nice young man."
"Okay ... okay. Let's forget it. What's say we get some lunch and then go shopping."
"That's the girl," Bette said, enthusiastically. "I'm going to wash my face, run a comb through my wiggie... and away we go."
It was while Janice was washing her face and repairing her makeup that she suddenly began thinking about the bellboy again. What had made her so angry? She thought it all through and finally had to admit to herself that the main reason was her embarrassment when he had caught her looking at the bulge in his pants. That was it! That was the only explanation. As she stared in the mirror and slowly drew her lipline with the lipstick brush, she found herself wondering about that penis. She had never realized they could be that large. Why ... why ... it must be at least eight or nine inches long... when it's soft. What would it be if it were fully erected? Janice shuddered, and not even she knew if it was a shudder of revulsion... or excitement.
Chapter 7
Richard had been standing in the corridor outside the closed door ... ostensibly checking key and lock ... when he heard the voices of the women behind the suite door. He straightened in anger when the blonde's voice came clearly, "He's a creep."
Viciously, Richard swung his luggage cart in a half-circle and started toward the elevators. "A creep am I? Well, we'll see about that Miss Big-Tits. About midnight tonight you're going to be crawling on your hands and knees to me, begging to be fucked." He shook his head, mumbling to himself at the lack of candor in some women. The blonde had been fascinated ... damn near hypnotized ... by the sight of his cock in his pants. Most women reacted that way; that's why they went absolutely apeshit on television over that English singer who managed to split his trousers every once in a while ... and that's why Richard, himself, had spent a little extra time at the tailors. Christ, didn't women go to the dressmaker and have their dresses pulled tight across the bodice so their tits would show off to better advantage? Well, why not men ... as long as they had something to show.
As for the redhead! She had practically raped him in the bedroom. Now, there was a woman who appreciated good cock. He came to a complete stop and his eyes widened as a sudden thought came to him. Jesus, you don't suppose the blonde is a les? He pondered the question and then snickered. Fat chance! There was a certain look in her eyes; he'd seen it hundreds of times. She was just as cock hungry as the redhead. Maybe more so, because she obviously was an "uppity bitchy ... the kind that seemed to think that men should come crawling to her and ask very nicely. "Fuck her," Richard said. "We'll see just how 'uppity' she is after she gets nine fat inches of Old Faithful here shoved deep into that squirming little cunt."
The elevator came and Richard slipped his luggage cart inside. He was alone as the cage moved down. He thought again about the redhead. She would go along with anything he wanted to do. That had been definitely decided before he left her bedroom. He went over it again, thinking of her luscious body in the suede mini swaying sensuously in front of him as he put her baggage away. He had deliberately put the one suitcase on the high shelf, knowing that by stretching upward the outline of his prick was unmistakable.
She had seen it, just as the blonde had, but this one had more effrontery. She actually kept staring at it even after he had put the suitcase away and was standing in front of her waiting for dismissal. Her eyes slowly moved along the length of it, traveling slowly like the spotlight on a police launch. And it was she who asked, almost breathlessly, "What is that you have in your pocket?"
"We don't have pockets in our uniform, Ma'am," he answered, fighting the urge to add, "you know fucking well, sister, what it is." Instead, he looked down toward his shoes as if he didn't understand. "What do you mean?" The instincts of a natural born cocksman, well-trained ... plus old-fashioned common sense ... told him that she was becoming completely aroused by the thought of what he had confined in his pants. She wouldn't be the first broad to proposition him before he left the room ... not by a long sight. As a matter of fact, there were even women guests whom he had never met before in his life who asked for him by name, each of them referred by some other satisfied customer. It was really amazing, all things considered; women were just as horny as men ... even more so at times, especially when they were away from home. And there was something about the thought of a nine-and-three-quarter-inch prick that drove even the most aloof nearly mad with curiosity and longing.
He wasn't too surprised then when the little redhead said, "Well, if you don't have pockets, what's this then?" She grinned impudently and reached over to gently run the tips of her fingers over the length of the bulge. It jerked against the touch.
The redhead batted her eyes in mock dismay, "Oh, my goodness. Well, I do declare!"
Richard stood fast, waiting for her next move. It came at once, when she asked, "That's you, eh? I mean ... you aren't trying to tease a poor Iowa farm girl?"
"It's me." The remark came out a bit more gruffly than he had wanted.
She stood back inspecting him ... and it. "You must be very proud."
"I am." He waited. Hell, if she wanted it, let her ask for it.
She did, almost immediately. "Uh ... what time did you say you got off work?"
"Ten, Ma'am."
"My name is Bette. Well, now that we're acquainted, why don't you come up and have a drink with us when you get off work, and tell us what we should see in San Francisco."
Now, he thought. Now we find out just exactly what gives ... whether there was a chance to make any money out of these two broads. He asked, casually, "What about your friend?"
"Oh, she can join us if she likes. But I have a feeling she'll probably want to hit the sack early."
Richard inspected the master key ring and pretended to think about it. He didn't want just the redhead; he needed them both if he were going to cash in with the women-hungry engineers downstairs. If the redhead would keep the blonde in line ... even for three or four hours ... insist on the blonde having drinks with the engineers and maybe dancing with them, then Richard knew he would have come up with his end of the bargain with the men. Shit, if those oil-well bastards couldn't talk a broad into bed after drinks and dinner, they didn't deserve to get fucked anyway. Very carefully, Richard said, "I would really enjoy doing that. The only trouble is that I have a friend ... one of the engineers, and I promised to have a drink with him."
"Oh, well! That's no problem. Bring him along." She stopped, suddenly uncertain, with a grimace of distrust on her face. "What's he look like?"
Richard smiled reassuringly. "He's young ... about thirty. Not bad-looking. Intelligent."
"Great. Bring him along." Bette boldly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Here's something to... ah ... remind you of your appointment." She wantonly ground her pelvis against his abdomen, and put her mouth up to be kissed. Richard did so, hearing her croon in contentment as his hands ran up the back of the suede skirt and cupped the supple globes of her ass. The two people swayed together, French-kissing each other with growing ardor. It was Richard who finally broke away. He held her back at arm's length, pleased with her rasping pants of desire, with the lewd motions of her hips as she shamelessly ground her steaming pussy into his growing cock. And it was truly growing, to the point where it was becoming actually painful. He had her going; Christ, she was hot enough to screw right now ... without any further preliminaries. She'd stay aroused, too. So aroused that she'd fuck one of the engineers before ten o'clock ... just to get a little relief.
Richard stared at her. Now was the time to make the rest of the pitch, and it had to be made unmistakably clear. "Look, I wouldn't want to disappoint my friend."
The redhead narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?" she demanded.
"Suppose the blonde doesn't like him?"
"Well for Pete's sake! That's his problem, wouldn't you say? I mean, I can't guarantee anything about Jan. She's a sweet kid."
"I'm not looking for a guarantee ... only your word that she won't refuse to have a drink with him, to talk with him... maybe dinner."
"Oh, that! I'll take care of that." Bette glanced shrewdly at him. "Anything else, though, is strictly between your friend and Janice ... and I wouldn't be too optimistic if I were him. Jan doesn't ordinarily play around." The unspoken implication was that she did, however.
Richard had wheeled his luggage cart back into the sitting room, and it was then ... with the insulting offer of a ten-cent tip ... that Richard almost blew the entire deal. He actually had to fight the urge to slap the piss out of the blonde when she put on her high-and-mighty act and handed over the dime. He had wanted to tell her that she could shove that dime up her ice cold ass ... or better yet, to bend over and he'd kick it up there for her.
Instead, though, he regained his poise and left the suite. His composure left him again when he heard her call him a creep. And now, riding down in the elevator, he suddenly straightened up and laughed as an idea came to him. He thought about it. There was no reason why it shouldn't work, providing someone could get the blonde sowsed, get her warmed up, get her motor running. And then charge admission to see her fucked shitless by him! It had worked several times before ... always with a whore who split the profits with him ... but never before with a society matron. God damn, yes! It would work! And he could probably cram twenty guys in there at twenty bucks a piece. He'd show them something they had never seen before, and something they would never see again.
The cage stopped at the third floor where the engineers had set up a bar and message center. There were two men in particular he was looking for; he spotted one of them almost immediately at the bar. Richard parked his luggage cart out of the way, went over to the bar, and said, "Mr. Grover. May I see you a moment?"
The man, about forty-five, balding, with an already well-developed paunch, smiled knowingly at the bellboy. He backed away from the bar and jerked his head over toward the window. Grover looked down at the end of the bar and called out to a crewcut, broad-shouldered, younger engineer, "Hey, Dirk. Come here."
The younger man immediately joined them, smiling expectantly.
"You got the puss lined up, have you, boy?" Grover asked, all the while savagely chewing on his cigar.
"Maybe."
"What'd you mean 'maybe'?" Grover demanded.
"They're a couple of society gals from down south, here on a shopping trip ... without their husbands. They're agreeable to having a drink and, if you like, dinner with you. From that point on, it's strictly your show."
Grover and Dirk exchanged dubious glances. Richard continued, shrugging, "They're both lookers. One redhead with a movement you can't believe, the other blonde with a body that just won't stop. But if you want hookers, just say the word. I can get hookers anytime! I think you're making a mistake, though. These are both high society types, and I got a feeling they are both here for reasons other than shopping. As a matter of fact, I'm positive they're both here looking for a little entertainment ... in bed."
"What makes you so damned sure they put out?" Grover growled.
Richard shrugged. "They will. The blonde will have to be handled very carefully. Nothing crude. Watch your language in the beginning. And no fast moves ... just slow and easy. Let her make the first move. And she will; she's hot for some cock right now, but she just doesn't know it. Give her a few drinks, some intelligent conversation, maybe dinner... and she's yours."
Dirk butted in, "Not his ... mine! I dig blondes."
Grover took his cigar out of his mouth and critically inspected the frayed end. "Hell, it doesn't matter. You fuck the blonde, I fuck the redhead... then we switch." Finally reaching some decision, he reached into his pocket and carefully counted out three twenty-dollar bills. "You know," he said in warning and narrowed his eyes at Richard, "if they don't fuck... or if they do fuck and I wind up in five days with a dripping faucet, I'm coming after you, pal. I'll get my sixty bucks back, plus the cost of my penicillin shots, plus about say ... ah... sixty dollars of hide out of you."
"Mr. Grover! Have I ever given you a bum steer before?" Richard asked, quickly plucking the money from the outstretched hands.
"No, son. I got to give you credit for that. The cunt has always been good, even though sometimes it's a bit on the amateurish side."
"Well, like I said, if it's hookers you want..."
"No ... no. Just nice next-door-neighbor sort of girls."
Dirk added quickly, "Who fuck like rabbits."
"Yeh, man." Grover snorted and put the cigar stub back in his mouth. Almost immediately he removed it again and downed the contents of the cocktail glass he had carried with him. "Okay, son. Now how do we work this deal." Then his face lit up in a lewd grin of anticipation, "By God, you know something, I never have fucked a high society broad before. I'm sort of looking forward to it."
Richard relaxed. The first part of the deal was set. The rest would be no trouble at all. He would have the girls meet the engineers in the hotel bar at six-thirty. Amanda, the little cocktail girl who would do anything for him, would make sure she waited on the table. Everything served to the men would be weak singles, everything to the blonde almost triples, and each drink would contain a small dose of the Peruvian drug yango, which would increase her sexual appetite while preventing her from reaching a climax. The effects of the drug would last for four hours, but she would be okay when he got to her. If they went to dinner, the wine would be with the compliments of the wine steward who owed Richard a couple of favors. The blonde would get special attention and her glass would always be filled. And then, the action would move upstairs to the old sack where she would get laid by Dirk ... and the "show" could start about midnight. Benny, another bellman would sell the tickets. It was perfect, foolproof. And if he didn't clear ... after expenses ... at least five hundred, he would be surprised; there might even be more, depending how the blonde held out. He might even invite the spectators to have a go at her snooty little snatch providing they had the dough and didn't mind slippery seconds.
Richard broke one of the hotel's most important rules as he jauntily wheeled his luggage cart across the foyer. He was whistling a happy little tune. A stern look from the assistant manager warned him, and Richard immediately became circumspect, as all employees of the famed Jackson Francisco Hotel were expected to be.
Chapter 8
The dining room was swirling around and around ... like a whirlpool threatening to suck her into its depths. As long as her eyes were open, she felt a nausea which was causing her stomach to churn.
My God, how did I get so drunk so fast, Janice thought. It must be from lack of sleep last night. She had been extremely careful not to drink any more than Bette; feeling instinctively that she must remain on guard with these two strange men. It wasn't that they weren't personable enough. For that matter, Dirk was kind of cute in a football quarterback sort of way. And there was no denying that Grover was entertaining; he told fascinating stories of wild-catting in Yemen while fighting off nomads carrying Russian submarine guns, and of other countries he had visited throughout the world. She straightened up with a jerk as she realized she had leaned over against Dirk's shoulder for support. I am drunk. I am drunk. I've got to get out of here. I've got to get upstairs where I'll be safe.
Bette laughed uproariously at something Grover said. Janice smiled vacantly, wanting to give some evidence that she was still with it. She turned, blinking, to Dirk, who was watching her, then was forced to close her eyes as his face swam in and out of focus and the room began swirling again.
"I think ... I had ... better go," she enunciated very slowly.
"Go!" Grover exclaimed. "Hell, the party's just starting."
"I'm not feeling too well," Janice murmured, and then instinctively sought assistance from someone she knew she could trust implicitly. "Bette... I think... would you ... help..."
Bette was at once solicitous. "Of course, Jan." She peered closely at her, "Too much drinkie?"
Janice smiled wryly and nodded her head drunkenly, all the time with her eyes closed.
She didn't see the exchange of glances between the two men, but she did feel vast relief when she felt Dirk stir beside her, and his hand ... gentle ... on her arm in support. "Come on, Jan," he said. "We'll see that you get upstairs."
"No ..." she slurred, with the warning bells ringing in her mind, then with some shreds of courtesy ... not wanting them to take offense ... added, "I don't want to spoil yur evening. I'll send Bette back.."
"To hell with that," Grover said. "We're responsible for getting you smashed; it's the least we can do to see you to your door."
She wasn't even conscious of leaving the booth, all she knew for sure that it was a fight to keep from vomiting as the elevator rapidly sped up toward the fifteenth floor.
Then she was in the sitting room. Now, away from the public gaze, she began to feel slightly better. She realized she had kicked off her shoes, realized that Dirk had turned the Muzak system on and there was soft music. She saw Bette and Grover, heads together, talking quietly, seated on the stools in front of the bar.
Dirk came back and sat down beside her. "Feeling better?"
She nodded, "Much." That, at least, was the truth; she wasn't feeling any soberer, but the nausea had gone. She became aware of Dirk's burning gaze, and followed it ... only to see her skirt was hiked up past the top of her nylons. She tugged at the hem, but a moment later couldn't remember if she had actually covered up the expanse of flesh or not.
She drifted languidly in a warm black sea, feeling as though she were gently bobbing up and down. Someone put an arm around her shoulder and without volition she snuggled protectively in against his chest. Now there were lips on her lips, and she found herself responding. The kiss differed from Gene's or Dan's. The thought of her husband brought a split second of sobriety and she stiffened. But almost immediately she relaxed and mentally said, "I'm not married anymore."
Where am I? What am I doing? She opened her eyes and found herself kissing a strange man. She jerked away from him, "No," she said loudly, her eyes staring wildly about as though she were some frightened cow ready to stampede.
"Hey, what's wrong," Dirk said, genuine puzzlement in his voice.
Now his face was going out of focus again. She remembered. This was Dirk. Her good trustful friend, Dirk, who was kind enough to leave the dining room to make sure she got upstairs okay. She smiled drunkenly, "Hel... lo ... Dirk."
"Hello," he said, reaching out for her. This time he was not quite so gentle. His tongue forced its way between her lips and Janice, feeling a strange and complete abandonment, kissed him back just as savagely. His hands caressed the half-parenthesis of her left hip, and she found some life returning to her numb body. She realized he had taken her hand and put it in his lap. She felt a warm shaft of flesh. For a moment she didn't know what it was, then knew. It was his penis! She tried to figure out how it had escaped his pants. Her hand tightened around it and began making little stroking motions in time to the bobbing sea. A groan of delight croaked out of Dirk's throat, and the sound made Janice pleased to know that her friend was happy. The motion of the black sea and the movement of her hand up and down on that fleshy pole mesmerized her and she began once again to drift off. She was only vaguely aware that someone was fumbling at her garters and was attempting to slide her panties down over her hips. Obediently, she lifted her hips to assist. Now the hands had unzipped the back of her dress and she felt the cool air hit the bare flesh of her back and shoulders. A moment later, her breasts were freed from the bra.
There's a mouth there. Someone is sucking on my breasts. Ummmm. It feels s-oooo goo-oooooood! His hands down there, gulling my legs apart. Oh-hhhh, Beautiful ... exquisite ... yes ... yes ... rub my clit. Oh, bite my tit and rub my clit ... bite my tittie and rub-a-dub-dub my clit.
It was the drunken repetition of the rhyme that shocked Janice back to the danger she was facing. She shook her head in bewilderment and sat half-upright. She was nude! And the man ... Dirk! ... he was nude, too. His cock was erect and throbbing, only inches from her face. "My God ... no!" Janice said, quickly scrambling to her feet where she swayed drunkenly. She looked around, unmindful of her nudity. "Bette," she called loudly, and then made a move toward the lavender room.
"I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," Dirk said. "Come back here."
Janice tried to put her hands on her hips ... and missed. Her shoulder slumped and she staggered. She drew herself up to her full height, breasts stretched out proudly, and said, "I can go in there if I want."
She walked unsteadily across the room and down the small corridor leading to Bette's bedroom. Even before she reached the open door, she could hear loud gasping moans coming from within. And then, when she stepped into the room and saw the lewd spectacle in front of her, the alcoholic vapors left her mind momentarily.
There, on the bed, her mouth open laxly and her eyes closed in rapture, was Bette. The man called Grover, his white buttocks shining in contrast to his hirsute back and legs, was lying between Bette's thighs. Her legs were tightly wrapped around his hips.
He's fucking her! My God ... he's fucking her! And she's loving it. Loving it from an absolute stranger, Janice was transfixed. Try as she may, she could not take her eyes off the couple on the bed. She could plainly see the brown puckered little anuses of both Bette and Grover. And she could see Grover's thick white penis ... shining with the lubricant from Bette's vagina ... slipping wetly in and out of the red fur-lined slit. And even as Janice watched, feeling a growing excitement that she didn't understand, Bette was reaching for a climax. Her body lifted up off the bed, her legs kicking out wide, and she wailed, "Grovy ... Grovy ... I'm cumming, baby ... fuck harder! FUCK HAR ... DER! Aiiieeeeeeeee, I'm cumming." Janice watched the throes of her friend on the bed. She waited ... almost breathless ... not realizing for a moment that what she was waiting for was Grover's climax. She found she wanted to see that ... to see the completion. But Grover wasn't cumming; he merely slowed down his movements until Bette caught her breath and then, climbing higher on her body, began fucking his indestructible hardness into the bubbling cauldron of her open vagina again.
Janice was so entranced by the salacious scene that she wasn't aware that the other man called Dirk had come up behind her. Her first knowledge of it was when his hot throbbing prick slid brazenly down the cleft of her ass and began making gentle little sawing motions, between the cheeks of her buttocks and her upper thighs. She closed her eyes. She liked it.
Admit it, Janice. You want to be fucked too. Be honest now. You ... want ... to ... be ... fucked ... just like Bette is being fucked. You can't help yourself. You're only human. You need it just like Dirk needs it.
If there was any doubt about it before, there was none now as she felt the man's sure capable hands snake around her hips from behind and then one outstretched middle finger begin its maddening back and forth movement along the entire length of her vaginal opening. His other hand had clasped itself on her breast and was gently manipulating nipple and mound. She turned in his arms so they were face to face, and she felt his hardened penis wet at the end and pressing teasingly against her belly. Her hand moved down between their bodies and she grasped the warm living projection of his manhood and bent it downward slightly so that it was pushing against her vaginal lips. He immediately began grinding it in and out between her legs, while they kissed.
Janice had become so aroused now that she couldn't contain herself any longer. With a gasp, she drew herself away from him and took his hand, pulling him out of the room and down the corridor toward her own bedroom. She closed the door behind them, and then simply gave herself to him, "Fuck me," she said gutturally. "Treat me like you would any common, street whore."
Janice really didn't know what was happening to her. She knew she was terribly aroused sexually, but there seemed to be something else wrong. Maybe it was the alcohol; she felt as though her mind simply wouldn't stay in one place. Once, when she had taken a sleeping pill and then had to get up unexpectedly an hour later, she had felt this way.
Dirk wrapped his arms around her body and pushed her backward until her knees came in contact with the bed. She fell on it, her legs wantonly spread in a figure of total abandonment. "Fuck me," she drooled. "Oh, God, fuck me quick!"
Dirk stared down at her. Now that she seemed to have slightly sobered, she was hot as a firecracker. For a few moments there earlier, he thought he had come up a crapper, that even though old Grover was going to get his kicks, he ... Dirk ... would go without dessert. Right now, though, as he gazed down at her, he once again shook his head at his good fortune. She was easily the most beautiful and best built woman he'd ever had ... and there had been hundreds and hundreds. She seemed so ... so ...he looked for a word, then decided it was "nice."
"Hurry," she said, and hunched her pelvis up at him in lewd invitation.
Then Dirk did something he had only done once or twice before in his life with a woman he wasn't sure of and hadn't met before; he went down on her!
With the first touch of his lips against her vagina, Janice began mewling. "Good ... oh, good. Go on ...go on."
Dirk had never seen a pussy so eatable before. The full engorged cuntal lips were the color of summer's first plums; and they shone with the dew of her excitement. He used his thumb and forefinger to peel the lips back and saw the beautiful clitoris ... almost the same color as the full, red plums he had eaten as a kid ... shyly come into view. His tongue flickered out and quivered against it like the rapidly fanning wings of a hummingbird before a feeder. Then, hearing her muffled scream of ecstasy, he went to work with his tongue. He drove it inward between the sweet folds of the vagina and felt them give way before him. Even with his tongue he could tell she was tight, that she was ... to all intents and purposes ... relatively unfucked. The thought goaded him and he began using his tongue first as a prick driving in and out, then as a vibrator moving the entire length of the slit. He deliberated, and then paused only a second before putting his hands under her hips and lifting her firm, rounded buttocks up off the bed. His new target ... the tiny, defenseless little anus ... was puckering and unpuckering like a fish feeding in water. He drove his tongue through the tight, rubbery resistance of this new opening.
"Aaaaggggh, God!" Janice's voice was completely unrecognizable. Her face was twisted in a grotesque mask of lust. Her senses, for the most part, had returned to her now. She knew a stranger was tongue-fucking her and would soon be cock-fucking her, but she didn't care. She loved it. Wanted more! All she wanted was to cum. An intolerable pressure had begun to build up within her abdomen. She felt she had never before been so aroused; she felt as if she could never get relief. She sobbed for it, reached for it... but it was an elusive grayness that never materialized.
Dirk was beginning to get tongue-weary. He had been licking and sucking away for at least five minutes. Always before he had brought a climax on within two or three minutes. To all intents and purposes, however, it seemed that the only thing he had been able to accomplish was to turn her furnace up higher. Finally, his tongue aching from its unaccustomed work, he drew his face away from the hungrily clasping lips of her vagina.
"Don't stop," she said, moaning piteously and writhing, her long blond hair moving from side to side like golden wheat in a wind storm.
"I'm not stopping. I'm going to fuck you now," Dirk said.
"Oh, yes. Fuck. Put it in me. Hard! All the way. All of it. I need all of it. Ple ... uuuzzzee."
Dirk slipped down between her outspread thighs. She impatiently raised her crotch, offering the steaming, defenseless little hole between her legs to him.
"Put it in for me," he said, feeling some of his restraint leaving him as he thought, My God, the girl is so hot she's about to go out of her mind.
Janice reached down for his long hard column of muscle and veins. She scraped the huge purple bulbous head against her clit and rolled her eyes in a near delirium of joy. Then, unable to control herself any longer, she pushed the throbbing knob down to the opening of her love-starved pussy. "There ... right there," she said, and pushed up against it.
Dirk felt the head of his cock easily slip through the first moist layer of warm cuntal lips. Janice opened her eyes wide in delight; she was almost babbling when she cried, "Oh, yes ... oh, my God! More. MORE!" Dirk didn't try to make the penetration in several movements; he couldn't have accomplished it anyway. The girl was rising and falling beneath him, frantically punching her pussy up in an effort to devour his prick. He simply fell forward into her, and her body gratefully opened up to receive him.
"Aaaaaggggghhhhh," she crooned, feeling the long, hard, living thing slipping relentlessly down toward the heart of her fire. She suddenly felt his testicles slap hard against the backs of her naked thighs, and she knew he was not in far enough. She needed more ... more ... more. Almost insanely she bucked her body beneath him, seeking relief. Her legs splayed out wide, and she brazenly reached down with both hands ... using one to tickle her own clitoris, the other on his heaving buttocks in an effort to force him in even further.
Dirk had never had a ride like this before in his life. Her pussy was rippling and moving at the head and trunk of his cock as though she had some vacuum cleaner or automatic milking machine down there. Goaded by her actions, wanting to bring her to a climax, and knowing that he could not last too long under these circumstances, he pounded into her with a fury he never knew existed in his body before.
Neither of them heard the grunt of laughter from Grover behind them or Bette's gasp of amazement. "Boy, look at her pussy go," Grover said in admiration. "She must have a four-stage rocket strapped to that ass."
Bette found it difficult to believe that the wanton blonde woman on the bed was really the nice small-town girl that had been her friend Janice. Why ... why ... she was completely abandoned! She was acting like a nymphomaniac gone berserk. And even as she watched, she heard Dirk's low moan of distress and his voice saying, "God-damnit, I'm cumming...."
Janice's voice was a high-pitched wail of distress, "You can't. No, you can't. Please don't ... I'm not there yet ... wait! Oh, God. No...." The last was a cry, obviously wrenched from her soul as Dirk's buttocks began jerking involuntarily, and the first spurts of the white hot semen began spewing into the wildly moving target.
Janice kept punching her pelvis up and down even after Dirk had rolled off with a weary sigh.
Beside her, Bette heard Grover's low growl, "I'm going to try a little of that." His cock, which had swollen to new life as he watched the scene on the bed, throbbed with a grand vitality.
"No ... you can't," Bette began, and then immediately shut up when she saw the angry look on the oil engineer's face. Instinctively, Bette knew there was something wrong about Janice; that the blonde had to be protected, if, indeed, it weren't already too late. This wasn't Janice, her friend, on the bed. This was someone else ... and she began wondering if perhaps they had been given a drug or something. But then that was impossible, she thought, after all, I'm okay. I think. She watched, incapable of further protest, as the hulking figure of Grover climbed up on the bed between her lewdly writhing girl friend's legs. Bette saw Janice's eyes open in recognition and a sudden look of fright and distress cross her face, but her guttural croak of lust gave lie to the frightened expression, "Fuck me ... make me cum."
"Don't you worry, little lady. Old dad Grover has got the thing that'll cure what ails you. I'm going to make you cum until your eyeballs roll right out of your head. You ready?"
"Oh, God, yes. Do it now."
Grinning down at her, Grover fumbled with his prick, deliberately sliding it up and down the cum-moistened lips until Janice was writhing again in an agony of impatience. Then, knowing she was filled with Dirk's cum and so well-lubricated that it would be impossible to hurt her, Grover savagely lunged forward driving his burgeoning penis deep, deep, deep down through the hot layers of flesh and nerves and muscle into the very heart of the hungrily grasping pussy.
"Aaaaaggggghh ... yes!" Janice screamed, and then unaccountably began to weep. She felt his long hard maledom punching away at her ... felt her body responding down there to his invasion ... felt every muscular ridge on the trunk of the prick and felt the huge throbbing head scraping against her cervix. She felt it all ... felt her own heat growing until it seemed she would suddenly ignite in one blistering flash of spontaneous flame ... but the one thing she wanted most to feel was denied her. She felt no relief. "Make me cum," she screamed, and it was a message from nerves that seemed tortured beyond endurance.
"Deeper," she cried, and Grover groaned in pain when her fingernails cruelly grasped his buttocks and dug into a depth where they drew blood. She pumped her pussy up and down on his thick white piston as though some fragile mechanical governor had broken and a machine was running fall-speed, overloaded, about to explode in a deadly shower of broken parts.
Janice's explosion didn't come, but Grover's did. "Too much, baby. Too much!" he groaned, and Janice shrieked in frustrated anger as she felt his cock blow up inside her.
My God. My God. My God. What has happened to me. Please ... isn't there something I can do. My heart is about to pump right out of my body.
She felt the coolness of the air hit her sweat streaked body as Grover pulled his flaccid cock out and then moved away from her shaking his head.
"She's insatiable," he said. "A goddamned nympho."
"No," Bette said angrily. "No. There's something wrong with her." She went forward solicitously and asked, "Jan, honey. Are you all right? Can I get you anything."
Janice blinked up at her. "I'm so ashamed. I want to die."
"What's wrong?" And Bette, like most females, felt the tears of sympathy welling up in her own eyes. She was also frightened, and already blaming herself.
"I can't cum. I'm about to die."
Helplessly, Bette looked around. "What shall I do," she whispered to Grover."Honey ... it's going to take an oil-well-fire crew to put out that blaze." he said wearily. "Jesus."
"Dirk?"
Dirk was staring down at the blonde in complete bewilderment. He merely shook his head, looking unsure of himself and a little ashamed. "I can't do her any good."
She heard another man's laughter, the gasp of surprise, then the barely recognizable voice. "Madam called?"
Through tear-dimmed eyes she saw him then, standing nude and satanic by the door. The bellboy ... Richard! His erection, like the scepter of a king, stood out royally in front of him.
It was Grover who said it, awe in his voice and a disbelieving expression on his face, "Good Christ! Look at that horse cock. Why, boy, that must be at least..."
"Ten and three-quarters inches, sometimes more," he said proudly.
Bette, feeling faint, was glad she was surrounded by Grover and Dirk. No woman could ever take anything that big. He would split her apart ... rip her as though she had given breech birth to an elephant, punch right through the membranal wall of her uterus and come out her throat.
"Help me ... please," Janice moaned like a female cat in heat
"Madam must say what she wants." Richard said, smirking, feeling now the first taste of victory.
"Fuck me ... oh, God. Fuck me. Make me cum..."
Bette had something akin to terror on her face but she still bravely stepped forward and tried to protect Janice. "No. You can't. You'll kill her."
Richard stared sardonically at her. "No woman has ever died from fucking, madam."
Bette turned back to Janice, moving sinuously ... weaving like a snake ... on the bed. "You don't know what you're saying," the redhead said.
"I do. I do. Go away. Leave me alone," Janice cried wildly, then turned to Richard, "Fuck me."
"I will my little pigeon, but first ..." he nodded toward the door, and told Grover and Dirk, "take this lady back to her bedroom. Keep her there or I shall leave."
Grover looked for a second as if he were going to retort, but then shaking his head mournfully, he took Bette's arm and led her, still protesting, out of the room. After a moment's indecision, a dejected Dirk went with them.
Richard waited until they were in the lavender bedroom, then opened the door to the corridor. Benny was waiting just outside. "Everything okay?" the older bellhop whispered.
The Cuban boy grinned. "Bring them in. The show is about to begin."
From down the hallway, slowly in groups of two and three, about twenty men began converging on the suite. Some of them ... having paid ten dollars extra ... were even carrying cameras.
Chapter 9
Most of them were almost reverently silent as they filed into the sitting room of the suite; a couple snickered coarsely, and more than one was obviously self-conscious. One and all, they had come to see a "fuck show." None of them believed Benny's description of the girl. He had said she was "real class stuff, a beautiful high-society broad up here for a little fun." That had to be sucker talk; the girl was probably some old bag of a whore with sagging vaginal lips the color and shape of raw pig's liver, with a fat streaked belly and pendulous breasts. They had been told they must stand in the shadows by the bar and remain absolutely quiet, make no comments until after the man started fucking the girl. This, they had been told was because the girl did not know they were there. They did not belive this, either. Finally, they had been told that the male had a twelve-inch cock. Sure he has, they thought derisively. But their curiousity was piqued. They paid the admission price of twenty dollars. And, miraculously enough, everything that had been said was the truth. When it was over, near dawn, they went their separate ways ... and not a single one of them would ever forget the show. Years later, they were to talk about it ... in hushed and awed tones ... in lonely oil exploration camps in the frozen Yukon, on the high rocky slopes of the Andes, and on the wind-swept tundras....
The yango had done its work well, Richard thought, as he gazed down at the tearfully pleading figure of the blonde begging him for sexual release. He watched her closely. Her reactions appeared almost normal, and it was obvious that the drug ... used originally by the Incas in their religious ceremonies ... was wearing off. She would orgasm if he worked at it, and he knew from past experience that when she finally came it would blow her mind for hours. For a brief moment he felt pity for her. She was so beautiful, and he had a feeling that her bitchy behavior earlier in the day was caused more by embarrassment than by natural temperament. His pity evaporated almost immediately as he thought of the five hundreds dollars already collected for the show. He walked over alongside the bed, where Janice's head was lolling from side to side, a grimace of real pain on her face, as she used her own fingers to savagely finger-fuck her unresponsive vagina.
"Madam," he said, "open your eyes."
Her breath coming in panting shudders, Janice did as she was told. Above her head, less than six inches away, the man's mammoth penis throbbed as though it were reverberating to some far-off drumbeat coming from the very heart of hell. Her throat was so constricted with unfulfilled lust, that her voice sounded like the croak of a raven. "Fuck me ... please ... oh, God ... put me out of my misery. Fuck me___"
"All right," he said. "But first you must moisten my cock with your tongue. Open your mouth."
An immediate flood of shame and revulsion inundated Janice's mind. I can't, she silently screamed. I can't do that. Please don't make me do that. Her eyes looked up beseechingly at him, but there was no mercy on that dark satanic face. Inside her, she felt the walls of restraint and self-respect crumbling like sand castles against the tidal wave of her own passion. She closed her eyes tightly and opened her mouth, a look of revulsion on her face.
"Open your eyes, Madam," the soft voice came again. "You must see what you are doing."
With a final shudder of defeat, her eyes flicked open. There it was. The ivory and pink column of flesh and muscle. She could see the little blue veins on it, could see the testicles drawn up into the scrotum like two wheels on the side of a long-barrelled field artillery piece, could see ... oh, God! the oozing white viscous seepage of sperm and seminal fluid already coming from the head of the glans. She wanted to run to the window and leap. She wanted to grab a broomstick and shove it ... all of it into her own vagina ... she wanted to die! Anything but this. Anything, but don't make me do this. And even as the words were echoing through her own mind, she found her head moving forward, her mouth opening.
The cock moved away at the approach of her mouth.
"Wha ... what?" she stammered, looking up at the cruelly grinning face of her master.
"Wait," he ordered. Then, taking his prick in hand, he moved it toward her lips. "Open just a little," he demanded. Like some mindless zombie, Janice obeyed. Richard then took the oozing head of his cock and used it like lipstick to smear the seminal fluid around her lips. They shone in the half-light of the bedroom. "Now lick your lips."
Janice closed her eyes and, with a grimace, did as she was told. The faintly saline, alien taste seemed to overpower all other tastes in her mouth. She swallowed noisily as the dry spittle went down her throat. Upon command, "Open your mouth and start sucking," she did as ordered. She felt the heat of his living cock against her lips, could feel it throbbing against the roof of her mouth. It filled her there completely.
"Suck!"
Janice made a vacuum of her mouth and did as instructed. Never before had she felt so debased, so defenseless against the perverted desires of this man... and her own traitorous body whose wantonness had betrayed her. She sucked, and now she began to feel some forbidden pleasure in the act. It was igniting new fires in her desolate vagina, but that was unimportant! She liked this.
The bellboy stood above her, feeling a genuine delight as the soft oval of her mouth covered the head of his cock. Her mouth felt warm and buttery. Another time, another situation, and he would have had her blow him until he spewed his cum all the way down into her proud little belly. She obviously had never done anything like this before, because she didn't seem to really know what was involved. Still, though, she seemed to have a natural talent ... he flexed his ass muscles and made his cock jerk in her mouth as he felt her tongue lick hesitantly at the underside. He glanced down at his watch. It had been three minutes. Time enough for the spectators to get settled in the shadows in the sitting room. Now, all he had to do was convince her to come in ... and that would be no problem at all.
"Enough," he said, and pulled his cock from her mouth. Was it his imagination, or did she seem reluctant to let it go? Quickly he reached down and pulled her fingers from her own vagina; when she fought to return them, he simply said, "Stop that. I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to let you cum."
"Oh, yes ... please ... pul ... zzeeee. Hurry." She ground her pelvis lewdly up and down several times.
Janice no longer cared about anything but the insertion of that prick into her pussy. The man's perverted request to suck his cock had broken what few moral restraints she had left; all she wanted now was release. She realized her feet were almost under her buttocks as she sought to push her pussy up, up, up toward relief.
Richard knelt between her legs. He put the head of his cock against the velvet softness of her pubic hair and vaginal lips. The two oilmen's jism still glistening between her thighs didn't bother him; she was just that much more lubricated. The girl reached up and locked both hands around his waist and sought to pull him into her but the bellhop braced his hands against the mattress and fought her. "I am the master. You will do as I say."
"Yes ... yes ... anything, but pul ... zzeeee hurry!"
"Repeat it. I am the master."
"You are the master. You are the master. Oh ... oh ... don't torment me any more. Can't you see ... I'm ... I'm ..." she broke off in a fit of weeping, but it did not stop her pussy from moving insanely up and down, as it sought to capture his cock.
"Stop moving."
Janice fought a losing battle against her muscles. She hadn't been willing her body to move, it had moved of its own accord ... trying to answer the demands of shrilly screaming nerve endings. After a moment, she lowered her hips and felt the mattress against her buttocks.
"That's better. Now, I'm going to give you a sample ... just a little sample ... of what it is like to really be fucked. Then ... you are going to crawl to me in the front room, and I shall give you all the relief you want in front of the fireplace."
Any protest that Janice might have been tempted to make was completely shut off as she felt the first searing contact of his huge cockhead against her cuntal lips. Now she was being stretched down there as she had never been stretched before as the giant prick sought entry through the small, now defensively cringing vaginal opening. She was being stretched ... stretched ... STRETCHED ... "Aaaaagggghhhhh, you're hurting me," she screamed. "Stop ... Aaaaaggghhhh..."
My God, she's tight, Richard thought. He couldn't believe it. A fabulous broad like this with a pussy so small. Didn't anyone ever use it? Even though she had been screwed twice in the last thirty minutes, it still was tighter than any broad he had fucked in recent memory. He made his entry as gently as he could, and once the huge cyclopean head was inside the soft furry mouth, he stopped. The girl had a glazed look of pain and disbelief on her face, she was breathing so rapidly that she seemed sure to expire at any minute. All of this ... the pain and everything else ... was deceptive because even stretched as she was, her hungrily steaming pussy had grown accustomed to its size and now sought to bring the cudgel in even further. She had begun making little up and down pelvic movements again, and each time she bucked up her face twisted in agony ... and the cock sank in another half inch. Now was the time to heat her up again, he thought, and began making a partial withdrawal followed by a gentle thrust inward. Janice's face relaxed and her eyelids began fluttering like butterflies; her mouth opened and her tongue came trembling out in an expression of lewd delight.
Richard had all he could do to keep from snorting. In language, at least, and once she had lost her dignity, she was no different than any of the other women he had screwed. They all used that term, "Don't ever stop." He wondered if the blonde knew what was in store for her in the front room. Didn't she realize that he had less than five inches in her ..'. and there was still another five or so to come.
Janice couldn't believe the incredible sensations washing over her. Before, when the other two men ... God! Did I really permit those two strangers to make love to me? Did I? And now, a third stranger? What's wrong with me? Have I gone mad? She went back to the thought: Before, when Dirk and Grover had made love to me, it was as though I had been given a shot of novacaine in my nerves, deadening me so that all I could feel was the act and excitement and the build-up of my orgasm ... but never any relief. She knew now, though, that she could climax by this man. She knew it beyond a doubt. And knowing it, she greedily began trying to bring her clitoris in contact with that powerful godlike rod of pleasure.
The bellboy let her strive for about forty seconds, watching her breasts and throat carefully. Her breath was now a rasping hollow noise. Her body movements became more sure of themselves, and he felt her cuntal muscles begin a gentle trembling. When he saw the first strawberry mottling of her breasts, he knew she was within a minute of reaching a climax. Quickly then, without warning, he pulled his cock with a wet, sucking sound from her eagerly quivering pussy.
"What... what are you doing? Don't! You can't ... cannnn ..." she stuttered like someone with a bad speech impediment. An immediate flow of tears began and she opened her mouth to scream, when Richard snapped. "Shut up!"
Janice's mouth clamped close. Her body was wracked with sobbing shudders.
"Now listen carefully, I shall not repeat it. I know you want to cum. I can make you cum. No one else can." The words were droned hypnotically. "You are to come to me by the fireplace. You must crawl the entire distance. I will be there." He saw her eyes were closed, but she was listening. "Open your eyes. That's better. This, too, will be waiting for you. See it ... is it not nice?" He stroked his prick a couple of times and then danced back from the bed as she reached for it. "I will be waiting. If you want to cum ... you must come to me ... crawling."
"Please ... don't be so cruel. Now ... do it now."
"Crawl." The word was in itself a sentence handed down from the highest tribunal ... a sentence from which there would be no further appeal.
Sobbing, Janice watched him walk out of the room. Oh, god ... Janice have you lost your mind, the silent voice screamed- Don't go in there. Don't crawl to any man. It would be better if you crawled to the window there and sliped over the edge. Have you no decency ... no self respect? No shame? And a shrill voice of reason screamed back at the other part of her mind, "I have nothing but need."
She slipped from the bed and got on her hands and knees. She felt the rough pile of the wool carpeting against her bare knees and the palms of her hands. Then her body was moving ... crawling awkwardly ... toward the waiting bellboy__and welcome relief.
And this is the story they would tell during those lonely nights far away from civilization ... and this is what they would fantasize as they sought relief using their own cold hand in place of a warm woman's body ... and this is what they would always remember. They had expected something sleazy, something fairly stomach turning, something that was an unintentional cheap parody of the greatest thing a man and woman could do together. What they saw was a ballet of physical love, and it was beautiful in its sensuality.
The man-boy had come into the center of the light by the fireplace and he was beautiful in the flush of youth and power, for there was strength in his shoulders, strength in his thighs ... but the real strength obviously resided in his penis which was close to afoot in length.
The woman, God was there ever such a woman before, had crawled ... yes crawled ... into the room. Her long blonde hair had fallen over her shoulders and almost dragged on the floor, and through the strands of hair you could occasionally glimpse the tits like golden melons of the sun swaying to and fro as she crawled. Her passion-filled eyes were as smoky as the high Sierras before winter's first storm moves in. Her buttocks were as white and perfect as two matched pearls, and you could tell ... just by looking ... that her ass was deliciously warm and soft to the touch.
And even the crudest of the spectators fell silent, holding their breaths with the rest... knowing they had never seen a woman like this before and never would again, except in all of their dreams in all of the years'to come ...
The bellboy stood, legs spread apart and hands on hips, with his back to the fireplace. The lights had been placed so that the spectators looked only like vague formless shadows in the dark parts of the room. He was satisfied that the blonde would not be aware they were there until he was ready for her to know.
Janice came crawling defeatedly into the sitting room, and her eyes looked up at him for mercy ... pleading. It was then that something happened he had not expected. A sudden overwhelming feeling of affection for her swept through his body. He had fucked hundreds of different women, and humiliated many of them ... but never before had this feeling. Abruptly, he was excited by the thought of making love to her. He wanted it to be good; he wished now he hadn't staged this show. But it was too late, he'd have to give the men their money's worth ... and that meant that just as she was reaching again for a climax, Benny, the other bellboy, would have to fuck her in the rectum.
Janice crawled toward him. She was, breathing deeply and slowly now, secure in the knowledge that he was about to give her the present he had so tantalizingly withheld from her. His penis looked larger than ever in the harsh light; it had begun its impatient oozing again. She wondered if he wanted her to take it in her mouth once more; she would do it, gladly, if it pleased him. She looked up past his prick and saw his expression. For one moment, she imagined there was a look of tenderness there ... as though he were fond of her. But that disappeared to be replaced by a businesslike tightening of his lips. Her head slumped on her shoulders; she stared at the rug ... waiting, waiting, waiting for orders.
"Baby," he said softly, "look at me."
She lifted her head.
"Tell me exactly what you want."
"You know."
"I must hear it, though. Tell me."
"I want you to fuck me... to make me cum."
He smiled. "Do you like my cock?"
A sob and an answer, "Oh, yes."
"Then lick it___and suck on it"
Janice shuffled forward, showing more animation than before, wanting to do anything to speed up the process, anything to hasten his penetration of her with his wonderful male hardness. She ovalled her lips as the bellboy put his hands on her head.
Suddenly, without warning, he thrust forward to ram the thick, turgid head of his cock deep into her gaping mouth. Janice gagged, and sought to pull back, certain she was going to choke from the sheer size of the organ buried so fully between her puckered lips. It took only seconds for her mouth to become adjusted to the throbbing heat of the rod, and then even she was surprised at her eagerness as she began sucking at it hungrily, as though she had been without food or sustenance for days.
Richard looked around grinning at the shadows and twisted his body so that everyone could see the hardness and size of the cudgel clasped between her lips. Then he began moving it in and out, watching with fascination as she used her elastic lips to suck with all their might on the cock fucking into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed on each withdrawal stroke, billowed out with each inward thrust. Her eyes were no longer smoky, now they were glazed with a ferallike lust that seemed to burn brighter than the lights shining down in her upturned face.
The bellhop felt the warm, buttery sensation wash over him. She was so goddamned amateurish at this, but at the same time there was softness and a warmness in her mouth that he seldom experienced. He wanted to flood her mouth with cum; he wanted to see it splatter and spurt from her lips and run down her chin ... but he withheld that thought, knowing he must retain control. After about two minutes, he pulled his cock from her mouth. Janice crawled forward, reaching up for it again. Her mouth opening and closing soundlessly in desire.
"Now I'm going to fuck you, and I'll make you cum as you've never cum before," he said.
"Oh, yes. Fuck: me. Hurry ... please." Janice had begun to roll over on her back when his shouted sudden command hit her like a whip, "Stop that."
"What... what? I don't understand."
"I'm going to fuck you dog-fashion... the way a proud little bitch like you should be fucked."
The lewd words ... the insult ... excited her even more, and her arousal began building up once more to the intolerable stage. She groaned in surrender as she felt his hands forcing her down into a widespread kneeling position. Her arm and thigh muscles were quivering weakly.
Then he was kneeling down in back of her. She found herself flushing in shame for her full white buttocks were moving of their own accord ... wiggling, flexing and unflexing ... lewdly inviting him to do anything he wanted. For a brief moment, she thought about what she was doing, how far she had fallen from decency within the last forty-eight hours. Last night she had committed adultery for the first time, and tonight there had already been three strangers unloading their heated male sperm deep up inside of her body. She wanted to cry about that; she felt degraded, debased ... all of it her own doing. But then these thoughts fled as she felt the bellhop, Richard's, hands peel apart the cheeks of her ass. He opened them as reverently as he would separate the pages of a sacred book. She pushed back against him, wanting him to consummate this act. And abruptly, she moaned in delight, as he bent his face to her straining buttocks and licked moistly down the entire length of the warmly sweating crevice.
His tongue was a living thing, bringing lewd, debasing sensations she had never felt before. She screamed in rapture when it flicked against her anus, then pressured its way inside the hotly pulsating little cavity.
"Oh ... Oh" she groaned, as the tantalizing tongue skewered teasingly into her. She quivered as though she were suffering from palsy; her hands and knees felt too weak to support her. She rotated her buttocks in small circlets around and around seeking deeper penetration, wanting this wanton rape of her defenseless loins to be complete. This was wickedness, this was the ultimate sin ... and she revelled in the knowledge. Nothing had ever felt like this before; the sensation went beyond pleasure, beyond rapture. There was nothing else in the entire world right now except that tongue pressing into her__and her own growing fire. She could cum this way; she knew she could cum this way, and she sought it, wildly revelling in the lewd sensation until she thought her entire body was about to spin off into space and explode into a thousand tiny rejoicing pieces, Richard sensed her buildup, and pulled out his tongue.
"Oh, no... you mustn't. Keep on."
"Now we are going to fuck," Richard said, shutting off her protests.
Janice suddenly quivered in fear, remembering the pain of a few minutes earlier, as she felt the mammoth blood-engorged head of his prick press into the slit between her widespread buttocks.
She involuntarily cringed forward in an effort to escape it, even though she knew her desolate cunt had to have it or go mad. The relentless prick followed its target. Then, she felt it slip along the entire length of her cuntal lips where it teasingly parted the softly curling strands of her pubic hair and pushed against her clitoris. A jolt of pleasure shot through her. "Oh ... ahhhh?"
Richard's hands closed around the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, with his fingers digging harshly into her soft white flesh. "Put it in," he ordered.
"I'm... I'm afraid. It's going to hurt again," she groaned helplessly.
"Put it in!" His words snapped out like a cat-o'--nine-tails, and she flinched as though he had actually struck her.
Janice groaned piteously as she felt his fingers digging even deeper into her sensitive flesh. She couldn't stand that and her own burning need. In desperation, she reached back between her legs and found his cock. It was so huge that it seemed as though she couldn't possibly wrap her fingers around it. And with that first touch of her hand on his living, throbbing prick, she knew she had to have it inside of her. He was going to impale her; she knew it would hurt even more than in the bedroom. He would split her. She would die. And yet .-.. strangely __ masochistically ... she welcomed this death. Just bring me relief, she thought, and then tearfully pressed that huge bulbous head at the defenseless opening of her vagina. The bellboy smiled out at the shadows as he felt her trembling hand place his cock at that secret place between her cuntal lips. He began a slow prodding against the elastic opening, feeling the softly yielding lips parting to accommodate him. Then the huge head was through the first layer of warm, all-enveloping flesh and attempting to force its way inside the tight restricting ring of muscle that jealously guarded the entrance to her belly.
"Aaaaaggghhh," she grunted, panting in pain. "You're hurting me. Stop for a minute... please."
Now, though, with the feel of her warm clasping pussy giving way before him, Richard no longer felt any tenderness or inclination for mercy. He wanted to be inside her ... all the way. He needed to be. He wanted to fuck her, had to fuck her! And the heat of animal desire suddenly shorted out all restraint in him. He took a tighter hold on her thighs, and then lunged forward while at the same time pulling her buttocks back toward him.
"Aaaaagggghhhhhh," it was a shrill scream of agony from Janice, as she felt his thick long cock slam through the hot throbbing fleshy barriers of her cunt deeper, far deeper than she had ever been penetrated before. She was being split apart ... ripped asunder. She even thought she could feel stomach muscles being ripped from their anchoring tendons. Another scream gurgled from her throat, the wild scream of exaltation of a mating cat.
Janice struggled vainly, swinging her buttocks and lunging forward in an effort to escape the brutal impalement. The giant penis was like some huge diamond-headed drill boring deep into the subterranean areas of her stomach. She could swear it was in so far that it must be lodged in her breasts. The stretched-to-capacity cuntal walls were a blaze of agony from the invading shaft of muscle and flesh, and it was a pain almost equal to that of her unfulfilled desire.
Janice attempted once more to struggle loose, but her efforts were futile, and she realized he had actually skewered her, impaled her on the end of his rock-hard cock like some helpless laboratory specimen on a mounted board.
She has an absolutely incredible little cunt, Richard thought with delight. It was tight; the tightest he had in many years, but it was all velvet and heat in there. A proud pussy, with reason to be proud. She had deep muscles that were working on him now, even though she was still moaning and groaning in pain. It was a wonderful sensation, and if he didn't watch himself he would go out of his mind. Her pussy lips clutched and caressed the trunk of his prick, and he felt them ripple from some far-off reverberation of sensation within her nerve system. And because she would make him cum this way ... without his moving at all ... Richard decided he had better start the flick show right now or all the guys watching from the shadows would think he was a rabbit who couldn't hold back.
Janice gradually became aware that the boy was beginning to rock rhythmically and gently in and out of the soft confines of her ovally stretched vagina. The pain was fading now, and she began to feel once more the buildup of pleasure. Her breath became more shallow, and it rasped in her throat.
"Go on... darling... go on. I love it. I love it."
Richard heard her words and a feeling of supreme power and achievement swept over him. He knew now that all traces of the yango had gone from her body. She was responding naturally to his cock, as he fucked in and out with long, steady strokes that had all the accuracy of a torpedo speeding silently through the warm vaginal seas.
Little explosive sounds of delight began coming from Janice's lips with each inward thrust of that implacable cock. She could feel her body responding to him, could feel muscles and tendons and nerves all working in unison to bring him pleasure and her relief. She spread her thighs even wider, feeling her knees scraping against the wool carpeting. She could feel everything about him now. The prurient little throbs his cock's head made, the twitching, his bushy springy pubic hair pressed tight against her thighs. Suddenly she dropped from her elbows to one shoulder on the carpet, lifting her firmly rounded young ass up higher in an obscene offering of lust. The roughness of the wool carpeting stung her sensitive nipples into a greater hardness. Deep, deep inside of her, the spongy head of his prick grazed against the bony tip of her cervix while her uterus expanded and contracted like the folds of some dark incredibly warm accordion. She felt the first barely perceptible beginnings of the Saint Elmo's fire preceding her orgasm. It was beautiful ... so beautiful. She began working toward it, edging up to it so it would not run away again like some frightened bird.
And then, abruptly, Richard pulled out!
"Don't," she panted. "You can't do that to me. You promised. You promised to make me cum."
Richard stood up and stared down at her. A cruel grin of victory was on his face. "And so I shall. Now I am going to fuck you another way... you'll be on top and I'll be on the bottom."
Janice felt a rush of greater passion as her lust- dulled mind finally realized the implications of what he was saying. She would be on top; she would be boss ... she could bring on her orgasm at will.
Richard lay down beside her. She saw his cock, throbbing away, shining with juices from deep within the well-springs of her own vagina. And because she wanted to and no longer had any inhibitions whatsoever left, she bent forward and kissed the rigid, beautiful pole that had brought her so much pleasure. She licked it from testicles to purplish-red head. Then she straddled him.
I've never done it this way. What shall I do. I don't want to make a mistake. I suppose I should just sit on it.
Richard, flat on his back, had his hands behind his head. He watched her with amusement.
Finally Janice said, "What shall I do?"
"Sit on it. Put it between your legs ... let it slip into that sweet juicy little pussy ... and then slowly... sit down."
Janice did as she was instructed, feeling the huge head once again stretching her cuntal opening. This time, however, there was no pain. Only indescribable delight as it slowly sank into her. She played with it, playing with her pussy lips around it__making little movements of penetration ... one inch ... two inches ... out a little, in a little ... three inches. It was a ceremonial sword being returned to its rightful sheath. Her eyes had widened once again in animal passion. And finally, no longer able to deny herself the joy of full penetration, she lowered herself completely on the throbbing rod. When it was finally lodged all the way in her, she shook her head in unconcealed delight, and her long blond hair swung back and forth like a golden curtain blowing in the breeze.
She began moving up and down on the cock, making slow movements at first. She experimented, then realized that she could bring her tingling clitoris into contact with the now lustfully throbbing shaft. Unable to control herself, she greedily began bouncing up and down on it, feeling the hardened male rod pounding deeper, ever deeper into the lonely canyon up between her open thighs. Her whole body began twitching and writhing uncontrollably. She groaned in complete abandonment as the deliciously punching instrument sank to new untapped depths in her cunt. Her face reddened and little moans of ecstasy bubbled out of her throat. "Oh ... so beautiful, so wonderful ... oh, darling." She bent forward impulsively and kissed the surprised bellhop, digging her tongue into his mouth, tongue-fucking him. Then she drew back, her eyes beginning to glaze again and her breath coming faster.
Richard felt her deliberately pull her knees in tighter around his ribcage as she sought to increase the friction. Then, when he was sure she was once again about to reach toward the orgasm, he took his hands out from behind his head and grabbed the heaving mounds of her buttocks, holding her tight in against his flat stomach.
"What... what are you doing?" she asked, still making little movements in spite of his grip on her buttocks.
Richard smiled. "I promised to make you cum. And I shall. I promise you that you will cum within sixty seconds, and it will be more beautiful than you ever dreamed. But first... " Even as he was speaking, his hands once again peeled apart the cheeks of her ass.
Benny, the almost-fifty-year-old bellhop, had walked quietly up behind them. He was completely nude, and his short, stubby little penis shone with the thick sheen of Vaseline. He stared hungrily down at ripe full moons of her defenseless ass, at the exposed little anus, and then at the youth on the floor for direction.
Richard gave one little nod.
Janice was so lost in her maddened pursuit for an orgasm that she didn't see the motion. She wasn't aware of anything until she felt the first tentative probing back between her widespread-buttocks, and even then she mistakenly assumed Richard was using his finger to bring her greater passion.
Benny lunged forward, driving his hardened little cock deep with the first slippery thrust.
"Aaaaaaggghhhhhhhh," Janice screamed in pain; she frantically twisted around, and then horror replaced the pain when she saw another man was kneeling back between her legs. She had opened her mouth to scream, when Richard abruptly reached up and grabbed her neck. He pulled her head down to his chest and whispered viciously in warning. "Shut up ... or I'll break your neck."
She whimpered in abject terror and shuddered as a pain, fully equal to Richard's first invasion of her stretched unused pussy, began in her rectum That man, that horrible little man, was shoving something up her rectum. And suddenly, as she felt the bristly hair of his lust-taut scrotum brush against the back of her smooth inner thighs, she realized ... she realized ...
"Oh ... God ... no," she moaned in shame and distress. She tried to lift her head, but the bellhop beneath her's cruel arm was still locked around her neck. Now, helpless, her defenseless little anus high in the air like the bull's-eye of some delicious target, she felt the unnatural movements begin in and out of her rectum. The pain lessened almost immediately, but the shame of her degradation remained as an afterglow. Finally, with one last convulsive shudder, she stopped trying to fight it. Weeping futilely now, she discovered that her dually impaled genitals were already betraying her to this new rapist. She could feel her ass muscles involuntarily clenching and unclenching around his penis, could hear his grunts of delight each time she did so.
And suddenly she no longer cared about anything. Gradually a glow was building up back there in the buttery depths of her asshole. She recognized it for what it was ... a promise... a promise that shouted, "Cooperate and you shall have untold delight." She moved upward against his incoming sodomizing stroke, and then when she lowered her body again, she found that beautiful cock sunk tightly in her vagina below was scraping maddeningly against her aroused clitoris.
Then, as if by some secret signal, both cocks were moving in unision, battering into her ... buffeting her body between them. She closed her eyes in delirium she was a love slave. Let them do what they want to me; I'll do anything for them.
The bellboy, Richard, knew the second she had totally surrendered. He had known long before she, because he could feel her responsive little twitchings deep in her vagina. She was close to cumming... and because he was ... now and probably forever ... very fond of her, he wanted her to cum. It would be a climax she could never equal again. She would simply pass out at the height of it. She was coming closer closer ... closer. He could feel her inner muscles suddenly tensing, could feel the uncontrollable twitching deep within her cunt suddenly beginning to go wild. Her breath had almost stopped; her eyes had grown wide in stunned disbelief and hope. He felt the first jerkings as Benny grunted and flooded his sperm deep up inside her rectum. He knew that had triggered it for her!
There really was only one other thing left to do. His hand reached out ... and fumbled at a light switch!
Janice felt the exquisite velvet explosion beginning in her body. She felt the throbbing of that stranger's cock deep in her rectum and knew he had cum inside her there. The knowledge that the perverted act had already been concluded ... and that she had enjoyed it... was the catalyst that set-off the explosion. She was close. Very close. Almost there. Almost. THERE!
"Ah? Ah? UH? I'm ... I'm ... I'm ... I'm, I'M CUMM ... MI ... ING! Oh, God! I'm cumming ..." The first convulsive wave of joy and ecstasy wracked her body and it was then, just before her fluttering eyes closed, that Richard casually leaned over and turned a switch on the extension cord- Lights came on all around the room and the shadows came to life ... and she saw them ... all the men like faces seen in a nightmare ... all of them looking hot-eyed and breathless at her and her lewd, lewd, lasciviousness.
"I'm cumming," she screamed defiantly at them. "I'm cumming," and her nostrils dilated with joy. Her body moved in a tarantella of lust and fulfillment. Let them stare. I am not alone in my shame. I revel in it. I grovel in it. My shame is my joy. Share my joy with me. Cum with me. Cum all of you. Her body continued to pound up and down on the younger bellboy's hard-driving penis and then, happily, she felt it, too, spurting far, far up inside of her. That ignited new and even more powerful stages in her rocket, and she was jetting in free-fall toward-the mysterious never-before realms of sensation. She came ... and came, her voice crying out in wonderment and exaltation ... until finally, she felt her mind drifting off... and she fell forward, in a swoon of passion, upon the chest of the youth who had brought this joyous moment to her.
Even though she seemingly was unconscious, her body continued to faction as a sexual machine, as several of the men were to discover. The velvety depths of her vagina had little muscles that joyfully welcomed each new man, and her rectum was inundated with enema after enema of love. Her mouth ran rivers of cum and it splashed and spurted against her blonde hair until the golden strands were matted and until her breasts looked as if they were salt-caked.
Her friend came, an angry, frightened little red-headed girl who threatened to call the police, just as the last man was finishing. And then, in little groups of two and three, they wandered away carrying with them the story ... and they would never forget her ... not she them.
Chapter 10
Gene O'Hare came to her in Reno where she had gone for the quick divorce. He hadn't seen her since that wonderful night in his house; she had not answered his calls. After about three seemingly interminable weeks of short temper, insomnia, and a deep unknown hunger which none of the other girls in his black book could fulfill, he was forced to admit to himself that he had fallen in love with her.
When he saw her lying alongside the pool in the sun, wearing only a small bikini, he knew immediately why he had come.
She saw him walking down the stairs and lifted her sun glasses. She did not smile.
"Hello, Janice," he said. "How have you been?"
"Gene." It was said noncommitally.
She looks different, he thought. Christ, it's as though her spontaneous gaiety and her childlike innocence have been stripped from her. As though she has been terribly hurt, her spirit broken, as though she had a guilty conscience ... had committed some unspeakable crime whose memory hangs with the weight of anvils about her shoulders.
"May I sit down?"
She nodded. It wasn't permission ... merely an acknowledgement that she could not keep him from joining her.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"All right," she said, dully, without animation.
"I've missed you."
"Have you? I'm sorry about that."
He stared at her, then asked point-blank, "What's wrong?"
She refused to look at him. "What makes you think something's wrong?"
"I can tell."
She shrugged.
"Jan ... look at me, please." Slowly, she turned her head and stared at him. Then she put her sunglasses back down hiding her eyes. "What do you want with me?" she asked.
"I came up here ... to tell you ... that I love you. I can't live without you. I want you to marry me."
He saw the corners of her mouth twitch slightly ... whether in amusement or pain, he couldn't tell. Then she said quickly ... and with some heat ... "Dont say that. Don't ever say that."
"Why?"
She looked beyond him. He saw her take a deep breath; her nostrils quivered. He turned around. Coming down the stairs was a young man ... about twenty-two years old ... Spanish-appearing, wearing a very tight pair of pants. With him was a greasy-looking, Greek gangster-type of person ... fat, short, and fifty ... with diamond rings on stubby little fingers of each hand.
"I think you'd better leave now, Gene. Make it good-bye."
"But... Jan."
"Go on," she said gently. "Thank you for ... for the proposal." Then, unmistakably now, he knew she was crying beneath those dark glasses for he saw a tear ... like sweat ... begin moving down the bridge of her nose. "You're too late ... too late by at least ... eight years. Go on. Go now. I'm living with another man; I can't live without him."
He recoiled as if someone had kicked him in the groin. He didn't believe it. It couldn't be true. He looked back again at the two men ... now walking along the decking toward them.
"Go. Get away," she said, and there was venom in her voice.
Angrily, he stood. Then fighting the desire to say something unkind, he nodded and said simply, "If that's the way you want it."
"That's the way I want it."
"Good-bye,, then." He turned and started in an opposite direction from the two men.
Behind him, he heard the voice of the young man saying, "Take a good look at her, Mr. Papagoras. Did I lie to you? Isn't she class merchandise? Stand up, baby, and let the man see what he's paying for."
Gene spun on his heels. Jan was still looking at him, and she nodded her head once as if confirming what he had just heard. "Good-bye," her lips framed the word.
And then she stood and slowly, like a piece of prime rib on a spit, turned around for inspection.
When Gene reached the top of the stairs he looked back just once more; his heart was caught in a steel fist and a rash of scalding tears blinded his eyes as he saw her walking sensuously across the grass toward the bungalows with the fat Greek's arm around her waist------
