Lisa Pilsner is the focal point of this book. A modest matron on the surface, Lisa is anything but demure when it comes to sex. like so many other women in our society, Lisa has been told that she is supposed to be shy of sex, but somehow the message never took.
Lisa has a husband and son. Both are beautiful men. This does not stop Lisa, however, from having someone on the side.
That person on the side is Tony Mondor. It is Tony who introduces Lisa to the pleasures of sex in its more depraved aspects. Before Tony, Lisa must cower in terror as he whips her and subjects her to every painful humiliation. Lisa learns the pleasure there is in pain as well as most have ever learned. Lisa also learns to take Tony's long, sturdy cock in her mouth. It is a thrill that stays with her for a long time.
But the real love in her life turns out to be someone much closer to her. It is her own son Timmy, seventeen years old.
One can only imagine the agony of sexual frustration many mothers endure as they see their young sons bud into manhood. By the time this happens, many mothers are still yearning for sexual fulfillment, while their husbands begin to slow down and not give them all the hot cock that their itching passions require. How tempting then must be the sight of their own sons, growing into maturity with their sexual equipment sprouting into full capacity.
Lisa is one mother who will not resist the forces of nature within. It is for her to discover the sweet taste of incest. As much as she resists, she cannot deny herself a grab at the tender meat of her virile son.
But can Lisa escape punishment for her acts of incest? Can she break so strong a societal taboo without feeling the pangs of tormented conscience?
You will see that Lisa receives more than just mental torment when her punishment is meted out by a trio of young boys, eager to take out their sexual frustrations on a woman so like their own mothers.
CHAPTER ONE
"MY COCK OR THE COPS
"No! Please don't tell my husband! Please-please-I beg you...."
Lisa cowered, tugging the mini-skirt downward over the curve of her thighs, locking her legs tightly together. She dared not look up at the imposing sight of the man towering over her. She kept her eyes closed, running her tongue lightly over her parched lips. Whatever his name was, she held a mental image of the ruggedly handsome six-footer with his gaze fixed solidly on her. She couldn't erase the dark-haired man with the craggy face from the blackboard of her mind. She dared not look up at him-whatever his name was. For at that moment, she equated facing him with facing her entire world-a world that would soon know exactly what kind of a woman she really was.
Lisa Pilsner cringed. He was calling her name. She could hear it, but she could not respond. His voice ... it was firm, yet surprisingly gentle. She held back the tears; certain crying would do her no good. This man-whatever his name was-would tell her husband the entire ugly truth. . just as Mrs. Anderson had reported that shameful episode to her mother.
Lisa loosened, slowly running a hand up across the high rise of her sweatered breasts, fingers absently playing with the fall of flaming red hair. That was so long ago ... she inwardly murmured, wondering why that teenaged escapade came to her mind in her present predicament. Lisa realized that it had been years since she had given that shameful high school episode even a single thought. Now it all raced clearly through her mind, even though she still could not comprehend her desire to scrawl that graffiti on a toilet wall. No, not graffiti, she now realized. Dirty words. . dirty thoughts expressing her inner frustrations.
Lisa parted her legs slightly, sensing a moistness as she recalled how she had excused herself from Miss Anderson's math class to go to the bathroom. That youthful impulse ... the fantasy of that well-muscled boy who sat across from her ... oh, how quickly she had fingered herself to an orgasm.
That ugly afterthought ... the self-hate . Suddenly, marker-pen in hand, she found herself scrawling the necessary letters on the wall:
FUCK
FUCK ME
PLEASE FUCK ME!
Lisa opened her eyes to her present, very adult predicament, recalling how Miss Anderson had been standing there, the toilet stall door wide open, watching her scrawl the last letter of her teenaged frustration on the wall. Lisa recalled that pinched look on her teacher's face, the biting of the lower lip. And yet, Lisa was now certain that they had taken the time to read the declarations together-no matter how silent: FUCK ... FUCK ME ... PLEASE FUCK ME!
"Vile, shameful thoughts! Absolutely disgusting!" Lisa's mother had moaned repeatedly. Lisa's father quietly made the arrangements for her to see an analyst once a week. Dr. Simon Bruska ... every Tuesday at four ... for almost six months.
How would her husband react? Would John send her to an analyst for six months? This is so different, she told herself.
"It's not the same ... " she muttered aloud, deep in her thoughts. "It's just not the same...."
"What did you say?" he asked, bending slightly over her.
"I-I'm sorry...."
"Mrs. Pilsner, this isn't the first time."
"No, it isn't," Lisa confessed, a smile slowly crossing her face. "No, it isn't . . " she absently repeated, her mind focusing on the one word her husband would be certain to use.
Suddenly she saw that certain word scrawled out before her, seemingly under those words she had once proclaimed on a bathroom wall:
KLEPTOMANIA
"I'm a shoplifter," Lisa shrugged, "a thief...." She forced her eyes directly up into his face, now totally aware of the fact that his name was Tony Mondor, and that he was the manager of the department store. "I didn't mean to do it...."
Tony eased off, sitting on the edge of his massive desk. She looks so pathetic, he thought, this fantastically beautiful woman. "Until now," he started, toying with a pencil in his hands, "I've merely put various items you've taken on your husband's charge account. But we couldn't let that go on forever ... could we?"
"No, you couldn't," she replied, honestly attempting to face the situation. "You've been more than kind to me..." she added, eyes fixed on a well-trimmed long sideburn. "I'm not even certain how long I've been doing this-or why
"We've had to crack down-" The store manager shrugged, leaning backward on his desk perch. "We have to do something," he added, somewhat apologetically.
"Will you call the police?" she asked, her eyes going over to the necklace-the necklace that had been found in her handbag the very moment she had exited from Traymore's, the city's most exclusive department store.
"I should," Tony Mondor tightlipped, suddenly bolting forward to a standing position. "The front office has been on my back over our shoplifting losses-"
"But I'll make it good-"
"That's not the point!" he snapped back, pacing to the side of her. "That's not the point at all...." Tony wished that she had not said that, he'd had his fill of people like the Pilsners who could always buy their way out.
"I didn't mean...." Lisa let it trail off, not certain what she had meant.
"You walked out of this store with a piece of merchandise. You did not bother to pay for that merchandise. Mrs. Pilsner, regardless of your husband's financial condition, sliced thin or thick-that's stealing!"
"I know, I know...."
Lisa's chin remained by her shoulder, her eyes suddenly fixed on a direct route to the crotch of his well-tailored dark trousers. She again tugged downward on her skirt, feeling powerless to remove her eyes from that very specific part of his totally masculine frame. She locked her legs tightly together again, fearful of the fantasy game she had commenced: Under those pants is underwear-and under the underwear is a cock-a big cock-a real big cock and a beautiful set of balls!
Lisa tore her gaze away from the imagined temple of the phallic symbol, certain this ruggedly handsome man had caught her in the act of crotch-staring. That little game of hers-she was playing it more and more lately. But why now, at a time like this?
"Mrs. Pilsner-" Tony Mondor shifted his weight from leg to leg. I'd like to give you a break, I really would...."
"Please," she whispered, certain his eyes were fixed on the high rise of her breasts. "It won't ever happen again, I promise you that!"
"Charley," the store manager called out, walking deliberately over to the uniformed guard standing by the door. "I won't need you anymore."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Mondor," the burley guard replied, head tilted slightly as he nodded incessantly. "You're the boss."
Lisa tightened, realizing that she had forgotten about the uniformed guard standing at the entrance of Mr. Mondor's private office. She squirmed in her chair, recalling how the middle-aged man had placed his sweaty hand on her shoulder immediately after she had stepped outside the store's main entrance. That smirk on the guard's face, it all seemed so vague now. It could not have been more than twenty minutes ago, but it now seemed more like twenty years ago. She strained her memory, wondering if anyone she knew had actually seen the guard escorting her to the manager's office.
Lisa watched Tony Mondor close the door behind the uniformed guard. She stiffened, certain she had heard the click of a door locking. Her eyes remained fixed on the man who appeared to be in his early thirties. She hated to admit it to herself, but he was most likely a few years younger than she was. And six lifetimes younger than her husband, she bitterly reminded herself.
She was totally aware of his deliberate movements back to where she sat. She lowered her line of sight on a direct path to the V of his trousers. She'd play the game again, the big fantasy: cock ... big cock . . real big cock . She bit her lower lip, aware of that certain moistness within the sheer tip of her panties. She rarely ever wore a panty girdle; she was proud of the fact that her lithe figure didn't require those cumbersome garments.
Lisa looked up into that handsome, craggy face. But it seemed so much like Miss Anderson looking down at her. She pouted, certain he would scold her-just as that spindly-legged high school teacher had scolded her. She had been a very bad girl, and she would have to scrub those dirty words off the wall. Every last letter: FUCK.. FUCK ME ... PLEASE FUCK ME!
...No, she told herself. This is different. This man wasn't going to scold her for writing dirty thoughts on a bathroom wall. He would scold her because she was a sneaking thief. But she didn't have to steal-she knew that. Her husband was John Pilsner of THE Pilsners. One of the best corporation lawyers in that state-that's what everybody said. "Not the same..."
"Mrs. Pilsner?" The store manager leaned over closer to her. "Are you all right? Can I get you a glass of water?"
"I'm all right, thank you," she replied, looking up at him, just in time to observe him exploring the sharp points of her sweatered breasts. "What are you going to do about me?" she asked, going right to the heart of the matter. And to herself she added: I'm totally at your mercy. Please give me a break.
Tony Mondor studied her up close. He had observed her many times before this, but never this close, not so that he was aware of the subtle fragrance of her perfume.
"Class . . real class," he had whispered to himself the first time he had observed Lisa Pilsner shopping in the store. That certain "real class" his wife lacked-even if her father was the major stockholder in the Traymore Department stores throughout the state. He had always enjoyed this woman's graceful movements, certain that fantastic figure was real. And those lush mounds ... he had convinced himself that this female could be a real credit to the Women's Lib braless movement. There was absolutely no need to imprison those firm delights, he was certain of that.
Standing over her, caught up in his game of judge and jury, he imagined those brownish-hued tips standing at attention for him and him alone, just waiting for the suction of his lips. He could imagine his tongue running wild from crest to crest, slithering about in the valley within. Why stop there, he asked himself, imagining his tongue running down the flat of her stomach, slithering over her panties and sneaking underneath to play hide and seek in a bush of flaming red hair.
Tony Mondor shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot, counterbalanced by the rising bulge between his mind creating that certain thrill, the first impact of the tip of his tongue greeting her clit. Tip to tip, then round-and-about movements, savoring all of that luscious slit.
Tony moved sideway, suddenly adjusting his tie. What really needed adjusting was the rising bulge at the crotch of his trousers.
"Mrs. Pilsner," he started again, attempting to be extremely formal and business-like. After all, he was judge and jury over this sinner. "You realize I should take some form of action-"
"Please give me a break," she pleaded, eyes downward. "I'd be ever so grateful, I'd do anything-"
Tony shifted the weight of his entire body back toward her, the bulge at his crotch refusing to subside. He let that last word of hers splatter about in his brain: anything, anything, anything. "Why did you do it?" Tony asked, not realizing why he had asked the question.
"Why?"
"I just don't seem to know," she whispered in a barely audible tone, bringing her line of sight up toward him. "I just don't know," she gasped, her eyes now fixed on that bulging sight that did wonders to his trim torso. "I just don't seem to know," she shuddered, suddenly equating her kleptomania with that earlier desire to scrawl those dirty thoughts on a bathroom wall.
Tony stopped wondering, suddenly realizing why such a female would brazenly attempt to steal a medium priced necklace that she could easily afford a hundred times over.
A thrill.
The subconscious need to break through the everyday humdrum existence. How many times had he felt the need to do something wild to break through the mold of convention? And being the manager of a Traymore department store was quite a conventional mold. And when you work for your father-in-law, that conventional mold can actually be a prison.
Tony Mondor wanted to break through his conventional shackles-just as Lisa Pilsner had attempted to accomplish that feat via shoplifting a necklace.
"Mrs. Pilsner," he started deliberately, hovering over her seated position, widening his stance before her. "You were in search of a thrill when you tried to steal that necklace."
"Yes ... I guess so...."
"You said you'd do anything-"
"Anything!" she quickly cut in. "Anything...."
"Anything?" he asked, deliberately placing his hand on the mountainous bulge at the crotch of his trousers. "Did you really mean that?" he asked, stepping closer to her as he continually rubbed and soothed the mass of his totally-ready cock.
"Yes..." she whispered, wetting her lips. "Yes, I would...., " She shuddered, those words on the toilet wall beaming across her mind as though in bright neons.
FUCK ... FUCK ME ... please fuck me!
"I'll show you something wilder than shoplifting," he tightlipped, taking her hand and placing it firmly on the aching mountain at the V of his legs. "I'll show you how to really go for broke," he persisted, unzipping his fly. "Now get your hand in there and wrap it around my meat, baby!"
"Yes...." She obeyed him, her eyes traveling over to the plush red couch, her hand attempting to cope with that tremendously long, hard and pulsating shaft still imprisoned beneath his shorts. "Yes," she repeated, her thoughts jumping ahead to her fantastically great penance, actually feeling her bare back against the couch's plush leather as he would drive that enormous cock in and out of her pussy. "Yes," she repeated, mouthing those words of her teenaged proclamation.
"You can ... I'll let you ... fuck ... fuck me ... please fuck me!"
"Let's go for bigger and better thrills," he announced, an all too long buried sadistic streak emerging from within him. "Something much wilder than shoplifting," he smirked down at her.
"Whatever you say," she whispered, her hand afire with the touch of his long reel of cock within his underwear.
"That's the general idea," he shot back, starting to fully enjoy his tripple role of judge, jury and executioner. "I'll call the shots, and see if you can live up to your promise of anything."
"Anything," she nodded, her hand squeezing the majestic hardness of a cock that seemed so fantastically bigger and better than that of her husband. "Anything at all!" she shrilled, anxious to go beyond scrawling frustrating sexual desires on toilet walls and shoplifting in search of the "forbidden fruit" thrill.
"For starters," he nodded, working his hand into flaming red hair and tilting her head backward, "take my cock out into the light of day."
"Yes ... " she whispered, tugging and straining, finally managing to work the full length of enormously thick meat out of his shorts and trousers. "Oh, yes," she shrilled, watching the ramrod cock standing at attention before her.
"Balls and all!" Tony cried out, widening his stance. "Now be gentle with my balls."
Lisa completed the command, one hand working back and forth on the length of throbbing cock, while the other hand tenderly cupped the low-slung scrotum containing what she considered to be extremely large balls. "Fuck me as hard as you want," she sighed, her eyes anxiously straying over to the leather couch. "I've never seen a cock as great as this one, and I can't wait to have you fuck me!"
Tony tightened his grip on her hair, jolting her face forward, lips dangerously close to the large head of his cock. "All in good time, baby!" he informed her. "But you've got a long way to go first-if you really meant anything," he reminded her, bringing her lips less than an inch away from the head of his meat.
"It-it's so big ... I've never done that before
"There's always a first time," he informed her, roughly placing his hands at the back of her head.
"I'll try...."
"Believe me," he smirked, "It's a helluva lot more fun than shoplifting. "Now give the head of it a big wet kiss for starters."
"Like this?" Lisa asked, working her lips quickly in a circular motion over the throbbing knob.
"I'll show you how, baby. But first, down on your knees!"
"Oh, please."
"Oh, please-shit!" he roared, angrily pulling her off her seated perch and down on her knees before the temple of his waiting cock and balls. "I'm calling the shots now, Miss Society-broad! Either that-or I call in the police and your husband, Miss Kleptomaniac!"
"No, don't do that, I beg you...."
"Then start sucking that cock!"
"Yes-yes. ...."
"Open your mouth wide ... that's it ... get it right over the head of it ... oh, you're doing great ... now careful with the teeth ... go down a little more ... you won't choke ... now work that tongue all around it ... oh, go, go, go ... yes, that's it ... you'll make a fantastically great cocksucker! Oh, yes you will. Eat it, cocksucker!"
Lisa pistoned her mouth further down the length of the hard shaft. Listening to her teacher, she worked her tongue back and forth, slithering helter-skelter, each time working her mouth over more and more of that hard meat.
"Oh, take it all, cocksucker! Every last bit of it," he groaned, yanking at the back of her head. "Go for broke, cocksucker!"
Lisa found her mouth traveling the whole route, amazed that the enormous length of thick meat could actually fit in her mouth.
"Oh, that's it, cocksucker!"
She could not comprehend it, but his crude words of encouragement were doing strange things to her. Instinct made her grab at the rear of his muscular thighs, improving her position as she worked her mouth steadily back and forth. That tremendous head on his cock-she could actually feel it banging down the start of her throat each time she slammed her mouth forward to meet the thrust of his body.
"Oh, go, cocksucker!" he roared. "Eat that cock, girl!"
Lisa found her hands moving up to grasp his buttocks. She enjoyed that muscular feel, and without realizing why, she was suddenly working her mouth more furiously up and down the trail of hard, throbbing cock.
"Oh, you fantastic cocksucker! I thought you said you never did this before-you're a real pro!"
Lisa's mouth was too jam-packed with hard cock for her to protest that she had never gone down on a cock before. How could she possibly explain that at the age of thirty-six, she had never experienced anything but "normal" sex with her husband. She was only eighteen when she had married John Pilsner, a man who was a decade older than she was.
"Oh, do it, cocksucker!"
Lisa went wild, unable to understand the supreme thrill of being called a cocksucker. Working her mouth furiously up and down, she somehow related this bizarre turn in her life with scrawling dirty words on toilet walls and shoplifting. Something-anything-to break out of the humdrum pattern of everyday life.
"Oh, I'm coming, cocksucker, I'm coming! Oh, swallow my love-juices, little Miss Cocksucker
Lisa swallowed, feeling her own live-juice flowing freely at the V of her thighs. This is wild, she thought. That morning, if anyone had told her that this day would be so different from all the others-that she would actually be swallowing a man's love juice-she would never have believed it. That morning, having breakfast with John and Timmy.
Her son Timmy ... that enormous, strange tasting cock still in her mouth, her thoughts suddenly went totally to her seventeen year old son. She clamped her mouth firmly on the now semi-hard cock, recalling the image of her handsome boy stepping out of the shower.
Timmy ... she didn't want to take Tony Mondor's cock out of the warmth of her mouth-she didn't want to erase the beautiful image of her nude son from the blackboard of her mind.
CHAPTER TWO
STUD SON
"Timmy?"
"I'm in the shower, Mom! I'll be right out!"
Lisa slowly moved into the very special disarray of the boy's room, t had all the earmarks of three years of high school. At the edge of his bed she scooped up his track shorts. Beneath them, her eyes instantly went to the jock strap. She picked up the flimsy stretch garment, instantly fingering the empty pouch.
"That would be a real thrill..." she inwardly murmured, her mind drawing a mental image of the pouch jam-packed with her son's young cock and balls. She wet her lips, realizing this wasn't the first time she'd had such a thought about her own son. She brought the empty pouch to her lips, brazenly kissing the material, telling herself that this was the first time she had been honest enough to admit this very certain feeling she had for her handsome and rapidly developing teenaged son.
"There's a word for it," she whispered to herself in a frightened tone. She let the jock strap fall on the boy's bed, the image of the boy's cock and balls still parading before her.
"But he's such a handsome boy..." she shuddered, slowly seating herself on the edge of the bed. "And so much mine ... mine ... he's so close to me." Lisa worked her hands down her thighs, slowly bringing them back up along the inner reaches leading to the V of her legs. Her eyes fixed on the bathroom door, her ears tuned in to the running shower water, she worked her hands underneath her skirt. She hesitated, then with a "why not?" shrug, sneaked fingers in underneath her panties and into the moistness of her pussy. Working inwardly, she pistoned fingers in and out of the only part of her body that Tony Mondor had denied that afternoon.
That afternoon ... Lisa stopped the motion of her fingers within the warmth of her vagina. Eyes fixed on the bathroom door, the sound of the running shower water now thunderous to her ears, she toyed with the very special thrill of having her son actually watching the sexual spree that had been spent upon her that afternoon. Of course, somewhere along the way, her son could join in the action, allowing her to work all the harder to satisfy handsome man and beautifully handsome boy.
Lisa jabbed her fingers deeper into her flaming red-haired slit. The one part of her body that had been denied by Tony Mondor. Lisa recalled his exact words: "I'll fuck your pussy some other time. When you're all paid up for being a bad girl and trying to shoplift a necklace. When we're even-then if you still want a straight fucking some time, just give me a call, baby. I'll be only too happy to oblige you!"
Lisa let out a low guttural sound as she recalled exactly what Tony Mondor had been doing to her as he had proclaimed those words. Purposely, she removed her fingers from her snatch and ran them down to the crack of her ass. A very sore ass from that enormous cock that had so expertly thundered it. Tony had called her a liar. His precise words were: "A cocksucking, up-the-ass fuckin' liar!" He had draped her over his desk, ordering her to widen her legs and throw her rear end upward, buttocks spread wide apart. Roughly, he had worked first one finger, and then two up the crack of her ass. "Nice'n tight ... " he had murmured. "I like to fuck a tight ass-hole." He had instructed her to remain loose as he had positioned the enormous head of his throbbing meat at the start of her anus. She had thought she would pass out as the large head actually entered her crack. He had eased up, soothing her with words of encouragement. Then it commenced; the gradual working of that cock that seemed to be a foot long up her ass-hole.
"It's in!" he had proclaimed. "Every fuckin' last bit of it-right up your society ass-hole, baby! And now we go for broke! You're gonna get the wildest ass-fuckin' ever, baby! The wildest ever!"
Tony Mondor had lived up to every bit of his boast, flooding the crack of her ass with his thick love juice. Lisa had been amazed at how fast he could pump another load of semen into her anus, after he had flooded her mouth with that seemed to be gallons of the thick fluid.
Lisa's eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door, realizing the current of shower water had been turned off. Now her handsome son would be drying that tall, lithe body of his with that dangling piece of meat and low-slung balls. She hungrily ran her tongue about her lips, over and over again.
Her tongue ... Lisa swayed her head negatively, still not believing that her tongue had actually been up the crack of Tony Mondor's ass. She now shuddered, pulling her hands away from her snatch and ass-hole. She tugged down on her skirt, squirming about as she did. She still could not convince herself that it had actually happened-that the very tip of her tongue had actually jabbed so deep within that muscular man's ass-hole, seemingly in search of shit. He had forced her to do it, she told herself. She recalled those crude words: "Eat it out, baby! Eat my ass-hole, society-broad.
C'mon, get that tongue all the way up there! It's the greatest taste ever!"
Until that moment when she was engulfed in it, analingus was an extremely far-off scientific term. Certainly this supposedly perverse oral practice had nothing to do with her and her straight-and-narrow small town upbringing.
"Eat ass-hole, baby!" Tony Mondor had continually cried out, keeping her face shoved up between his buttocks. "Eat it right out, shit and all! 'Cause baby, you've got a real educated tongue!"
"No ... no..." she now shuddered, realizing her son would soon emerge from the bathroom, hopefully with only a bath towel draped about his muscular midsection. "No...." she repeated, angry that Tony Mondor had not believed her, that she had never used her mouth, lips and tongue in so many sexually perverse ways before that afternoon. "Never...." she inwardly shuddered. "Never-never."
Lisa stopped short, tugging downward on her skirt, edging forward until she was perched on the very edge of the bed. A moment of truth hit her smack in the face. In reality, she had never used her mouth in so many wild sexual ventures before today. But in her fantasies she had experienced every conceivable oral pleasure from the time she was a teenaged girl. Lisa was forced to admit that even while experiencing normal vaginal intercourse with her husband, she had fantasied oral pleasures with various handsome men she had noticed at one time or
"And boys..." she whispered to herself. "Young boys ... " she truthfully added, recalling a number of Timmy's young friends who had caught her eye over the past few years. Especially in the summer with their skintight cutoff trousers and shorts ... those beautiful bulges of young meat.
"Why..." Lisa suddenly asked herself. Why had she never done anything about it? Why had she remained faithful to her husband's routine sex life and an occasional spree of masturbation? Sitting there on the edge of her son's bed, she realized that over the past few years, these sexual urges had been growing stronger and stronger within her. The past few years ... approximately the same time she had started her shoplifting sprees ... strictly for the thrill of it. Lisa bit her lower lip, for the first time, realizing how grateful she was that she had been caught in the act. Tony Mondor had imposed the sentence upon her; she had served it well.
"Hey, Mom-" Timmy called out, suddenly stopping short to adjust the bath towel draped over his lithe midsection. "I didn't know you were waiting for me all this time. What's the matter?"
"Nothing's the matter," she smiled, working her eyes up and down his slim body. Her son was great at basketball and track, but lacked the weight for football. She especially enjoyed the taut stomach muscles, that line where his suntan stopped slightly below his navel.
"Is something wrong, Mom?"
"No ... no..." she gulped, eyes fixed on the long outline of cock underneath the towel. "No, son...."
"The way you're looking at me...."
"You're growing up, Timmy. You're developing into a fine young man."
"Maybe I should get some clothes on-"
"Sit over here, Timmy, beside me. I want to talk to you."
"What's the matter, Mom?"
"Why should anything be the matter, Timmy? I'd just like to know how things are going with you. What's the hip expression-let's rap a while."
"Yeah, sure," Timmy smiled, uneasily sitting on the edge of his bed, a slight distance away from her. "Why don't you go to the basketball game tonight, Mom?" he asked, tugging downward on the moist bath towel that highlighted his newly developed manhood.
"Dad's got a business meeting and can't make it," he added, as though this was par for the course, totally to be expected of his father. "Will you come to the game, Mom?"
"I might just do that, Timmy," she smiled. "It might do me a world of good to watch my star in action," she added, eyes going directly to the outlined bulge of cock and balls.
"Hey, Uncle Damn's going to the game, Mom! Maybe you could go with him? I could call-" Timmy added, starting to rise.
"I'll call him myself," Lisa cut in, taking her son's wrist and urging him to remain seated. "I'll call Darrin," she added, suddenly uneasy as she couldn't remove her eyes from that fantastic bulge of young meat. "It's starting to get hard ... she told herself, watching it seemingly breathe and grow underneath that very lucky bath towel.
"Mom, you sure everything's okay ... you're acting kinda different
"Timmy..." she ran a hand through the thickness of the dark hair that flopped over his eyes. "You're getting to look more and more like your Uncle Darrin," she smiled, still working a hand through his shower-wet hair.
"Even with my hair too long-like a girl's," he shrugged, absently spreading his thighs apart, the bath towel rising slightly up to the start of his low-slung balls.
"That's what your father said, Timmy. And I can't openly go against him. But between us, I think you look just great with your hair at that length."
"And I don't look like a girl?" he questioned, obviously angered by what his father had said.
"Your father just doesn't seem to understand these things-"
"That is the understatement of the year!" Timmy whistled, moving in closer to his mother.
"Timmy, it's the way he was brought up. He can't seem to understand that the length of a boy's hair has absolutely nothing to do with his masculinity," she shrugged, suddenly ever so aware of his special brand of masculinity bulging up at her underneath the towel. "You're getting to be a real man, Timmy, a real, fine young man...."
"Then I guess I shouldn't be running around half-naked," he blushed, tugging downward on the towel as he brought his thighs back together.
"Remember me," she playfully poked him in the navel. "I'm the gal who used to change your diapers. And I remember only too well that until the day you started kindergarten you always swore up and down that when you grew up you were going to marry your Mommy!"
"So I did," he chuckled, "so I did."
"But now you've got too many other girlfriends," she playacted her jealousy. "And you don't even have an occasional little kiss for your very first sweetheart."
"I guess I can arrange that," he replied, playacting generosity. "One kiss coming up," he added, leaning over and planting a kiss on her cheek.
"Oh, you're still my favorite boy," she shot back, warmly placing both of her hands on his face. "Sometimes it's so painful for me to watch you grow up, knowing that someday I'll lose you."
"No you won't, Mom, not really...."
"Oh, I can see all those pretty young girls moving in for the kill. It won't be long-"
"I'll let you in on a secret, Mom," he sighed, backing away from the touch of her hands. "I'm not one-tenth the lady-killer you seem to think I am. In fact..." Timmy faltered, looking slightly away from her.
"What's the matter, Timmy?" she asked, taking his hand in hers, pressing it firmly. "You can talk to me. I think I'm capable of understanding most everything." She waited, pressing his hand more firmly in hers. Suddenly she realized that the back of her hands was resting precariously close to that fantastic bulge of young meat curtained off by the bath towel. "I want so much to help you," she finally managed to utter. "However I can," she flustered, the back of her hand now brushing the living, breathing, throbbing bulge at the V of his thighs. "Try me, Timmy...."
"It's not that easy, Mom," the boy flustered, "I guess it's what a kid usually talks about with his father...." He hesitated, biting his lower lip. "But with Dad, any talk about sex is dirty-I mean, I get that impression."
"Timmy, what you're trying to say," Lisa started, bringing a hand warmly back to his face. "Is it that certain things about girls frighten you?"
"Yeah, it's something like that," he replied, responding to the warmth of her hand on his face. "You know, after I get too involved with a girl, when things seem to be getting out of control...."
"Yes, Timmy?"
"I get scared!"
"That's understandable at your age," she softly countered, bringing the back of her hand down more firmly on the rising bulge of towel-covered equipment.
"This isn't something you talk about with your own Mom," Timmy flustered, trying to back off, but seemingly unable to do so. "What I mean is-"
"Timmy, I know there's no real communication between you and your father.
So maybe this isn't so far out. We've always been close, haven't we?" she asked, her hand growing bolder in the vicinity of his crotch. "We've had to be close, Timmy ... because you're father has always been so distant and-and cold. Timmy ... even to me." she announced, her hand boldly taking stock of the situation. "We've always been extra close...."
"Yeah, sure, Mom," Timmy was now sweating, his young cock hardening instantly. "I could always talk to you, when I couldn't talk with Dad."
"Timmy, people feel things ... regardless of so-called conventional ... " Her hand brazened it out, moving underneath the towel, fingers instantly sensing the pulsating growth of his eager young cock. "Timmy?" she questioned, moving her lips close to his face. "You haven't gone all the way with a girl yet? Have you?"
"No, Mom, honest I haven't. Oh, I've wanted to! But I always seem to chicken out! What I mean is-I get scared-" Timmy was now stubbing his toe into the rug. "Wow, Mom! I know I shoudln't-but I'm getting real excited!"
"You and I, Timmy..." she shuddered, working her hand more firmly around the long length of hard cock. "You and I," she repeated, suddenly realizing that her teenaged son's cock was almost as long as Tony Mondor's, even though it couldn't possibly be as thick as his. "We're forever left alone ... just the two of us in this big house ... while your father always seems so content to be away from us, deep in his business...." She moved her lips extremely close to his chin, her hand tightening on the eager young cock. "Maybe this is a very special case, maybe it's only right that you learn what it's like to really have a girl from me. Timmy?" she questioned, flicking a few quick kisses about his chin and down to the soft of his neck. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"
Yeah, I think so, Mom," he whispered hoarsely, stretching his thighs apart, letting the towel ride recklessly upward. "I've been feeling strange vibrations lately, whenever you look at me. like the other day, when you noticed me stepping out of the shower. I mean, later on that night I got so excited that I started ... " Timmy let it trail off, his eyes going down to the curvy richness of her thighs. So beautifully developed, he thought, so much more class than the high school girls he had necked and petted with so far in his basically inexperienced life.
"I've had feelings too, Timmy," she confessed, tugging fingers at the knot in the towel. "I just haven't been able to keep them in check-" She gasped audibly, watching the knot loosen, the towel parting to reveal his youthful midsection, that slim, hard cock bobbing instantly up to attention. "Oh, Timmy, it's so beautiful!" she cried out, instantly recapturing the phallus in her hand. "Oh, so delightful..." she moaned, cupping his low-slung balls with her other hand.
"Wow, Mom I feel real ashamed-but still I know I'm real crazy about being with you like this," he flustered. His mind churned wildly, realizing that on a number of occasions while "making out" with various dates, slipping his hands underneath girls' panties, he had often thought of his mother; especially those treasured glimpses he had stolen of her in a sheer negligee. "You're real beautiful," he shuddered, a hand going down nervously to her thigh. "A real young-looking!"
"You've really never had a girl?" she asked again, hands feverishly caressing his slim cock and low-slung balls. "I mean, all the way? Real sex?"
"No, Mom, honest. I mean, I've come real close-until I thought I'd explode!"
"My little darling," she beamed, flicking kisses at the soft of his neck. "Our lives are so different ... we have a right ... we do have a right, and I just can't fight it any longer, Timmy darling. I want to be your very first," she announced. "If you want me-"
"Wow! Yeah! I mean...."
Lisa demonstrated what she meant, moving her lips fully over his, pressing downward, her mouth instantly opening, her tongue darting furiously about to entwine his. Her mouth pressing his, one hand remained faithfully on his long ramrod of hot young meat, while the other hand departed from his balls to explore the mystery of his firm young ass-hole. She played a finger gently up and down the crack of his ass, feeling the new hairs there.
She thought of how her tongue had worked up and down the crack of Tony Mondor's ass-hole. She recalled even more vividly how her mouth had hungrily slobbered up and down the length of Tony's cock. Down on her knees, seemingly in worship of male cock and ass-hole. Timmy's long, slim cock and young ass-hole ... her mouth, lips and tongue wanted desperately to savor the young maleness.
No ... she told herself, not with Timmy. She could not send the boy into shock. Slow and easy, she told herself, her lips still pressed to his, her tongue still twining his. She was then aware of the moistness at the start of her pussy. Her pussy-the only part of her sexual anatomy not worked over by Tony Mondor's sadistic pleasure streak that afternoon. Her pussy ... she would gladly offer it to her son for his first pleasure.
"Timmy," she whispered, finally prying her lips away from his. "Don't be afraid . . I want ever so much to be your first real experience," she announced, slowly swaying to her feet, her hand going directly to the long zipper at the side of her skirt. "Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I do," he moaned, watching the skirt fall to the floor. "Oh, yeah, wow!" he exclaimed, watching his mother proudly stepping out of the skirt, standing there in her sheer panties. "Oh, wow!" he repeated, wondering what her bare breasts would look like. "Please take everything off, Mom? Please?"
"Timmy," she called out, stretching her hands out to him. "You're a big boy now. Stand up and do it yourself."
"What?"
"I'd be ever so proud to have you finish undressing me," she shuddered, suddenly feeling the need to discover new, bigger and better thrills. "Please undress me, Timmy," she urged him, feeling much the same sensation whenever she had shoplifted a certain item under extremely dangerous conditions. "Please finish undressing me," she whispered hoarsely, wondering what the odds might be of her husband coming home and walking in on them. Or even the maid downstairs. Danger ... it added to the thrill of it all.
"Wow, this is outa sight!" Timmy shrilled, rising on wobbly feet, his hands instantly unbuttoning her blouse. "Oh, wow," he groaned, watching her bra-imprisoned breasts coming into sight.
"Just let it fall to the floor," she whispered, arching her shoulders as the blouse was peeled off her curvy frame. "Now undo the clasp of my bra-don't be frightened," she whispered, feeling the hardness of his eager young cock brushing up against the sheerness of her panties. "Hurry, hurry, Timmy-darling!"
"Oh, wow!" he repeated, the clasp undone, her lush mounds heaving into sight before his eyes. "They're beautiful." he announced, watching her wiggle out of the bra, having the brownish-hued tips stand at attention for her son's inspection.
"Are they really beautiful?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," he replied, slowly bringing his trembling hands to explore the lushness. They feel so smooth and velvety...."
"Bring your lips down on them, Timmy. Right on the tips ... first one, and then the other ... like a Mommy's good little boy...."
Timmy obeyed, moaning and groaning his pleasure. "Wow, Mom, at this rate, I won't be able to hold out much longer-if you know what I mean!"
"Yes, my little darling," she smiled, a hand gently caressing his full length of hard cock. "I know only too well what you mean. So why don't you slip my panties off. Please?"
"It's so beautiful," he whispered, obeying her, bringing the panties down to her feet. "Oh, so beautiful ... real outa sight!" he proclaimed, watching her regally step out of the final sheer garment.
"Come here with me," she whispered, leading him over to the bed. "Now try to stay calm," she instructed him as she arched her back on the bed, spreading her legs widly apart. "Now let me guide that eager young cock of yours right up to the start of my slit."
"That beautiful red hair all around it!" Timmy exclaimed, feeling her guide the head of his cock up into the moist start of her slit. "Oh, that feels great! like I always imagined it would!"
"Easy does it, Timmy-darling. That's it, get right over me ... oh, wonderful, my darling little boy ... that's it ... now work your long hard cock all the way in ... don't worry ... you won't hurt me-oh, yes, my darling little boy! That's it! That's it! Oh, don't stop! Don't ever stop!" Lisa gyrated her hips up to meet her young son's cock, knowing that there was no turning back for her in her never-ending quest for kicks-kicks-kicks ... new thrills, a new thrill a day-or maybe more.
"Oh, Mom!" Tim roared, working his cock furiously up and down, his young hands eagerly grabbing and clawing to get at the delightful mounds of her ass. "Oh, like-wow, Mom!"
Lisa gyrated her approval. She gyrated wildly to proclaim to one and all that she had finally managed to break through her humdrum conventional life style. She suddenly had an urge to openly proclaim this newly discovered freedom:
"Fuck me, Son! Fuck me!"
CHAPTER THREE A PENETRATING GIFT
Tony Mondor hated Thursday nights. Every Thursday night of the year held that one special horror for him: dinner at his father's-in-law. That pompous bastard seated at the almighty head of the table, that same old tired "rags-to-riches" story of how he had struggled to open up his first department store.
Tony sipped his coffee, wondering how he had actually endured another dinner like this one without exploding at that fat, little man at the head of the table-Clarence Traymore. As usual, Tony's wife Betty had kicked him underneath the table at least a half dozen times to remind him to either laugh, smile or say thank you on cue. Tony set his cup back on the saucer, nodding negatively to the new maid serving dessert. Old Man Traymore was talking incessantly, but Tony had long ago discovered a way of appearing interested while really not listening at all. Once again, Tony reminded himself to bide his time. His plans were going well, and it wouldn't be long before he would be moving up damned close to the top in the Traymore chain of department stores. It wouldn't be long, Tony told himself, glancing sideways to again remind himself that Betty was putting on too damned much weight. It wouldn't be long, Tony echoed within himself, that the pompous old bastard at the head of the table would be squeezed out of control, and the "new group" of stockholders would take over. Then Tony wouldn't be stuck managing a branch store. The "new group" would shove him right upstairs in the main office. Bide your time, he reminded himself, realizing the new group had to acquire at least another eight per cent of the stock before they could call a board meeting and push the Old Man out.
Tony felt his wife nudging him under the table. He looked up, watched the group laughing heartily at one of Old Man Traymore's little jokes. With a "why not?" shrug, Tony forced a little laugh. After all, he wouldn't have to laugh at the Old Man's jokes much longer.
But this restlessness-he had to curb it. His restlessness could defeat all his well-laid plans to make it all the way up to the top. While Tony continually had to listen to the Old Man's "rags-to-riches" story, he buried deep within himself his resentment of the tough way up from stock clerk to store manager. Tony's resentment was due in large part to the fact that he had to marry one of the boss's daughters to accomplish this feat-a feat he could just as easily have managed on his own ability. But the world would soon know that-just as soon as Tony and "the new group" took over control of the Traymore department store chain. And that would only be a stepping stone. Then Tony would show the whole damned world what merchandising was really all about.
Another little joke, Tony told himself, hearing the forced laughter about the table. Tony managed a slight smile and pretended laughter before his wife could once again nudge him under the table.
Tony glanced to his left, then quickly scanned the dinner table. Everyone being ever so polite to one another. He wondered if they really knew what he thought about them all. He started with his wife on his left.
Betty, Betty, Betty-you're putting much too much weight on. And all in the wrong places. Also, dear Betty, he went on to himself, you're getting to be a real lousy lay. Much too routine, Betty.
Tony took the time to examine his wife. He had always enjoyed the sight of her strawberry blonde hair falling ever so naturally down her shoulders. But lately she always wore it up in a tight bun. He noticed lines in her basically beautiful face. Lines that should not be on the face of a woman still in her twenties. And that once fantastic figure-fat was developing in all the wrong places. Sex with
Betty was getting to be a tired, old routine-pretty much like dinner at the Traymores every Thursday evening. Tony had always had a need to be vocal during sex. Whatever he enjoyed-he had to express accordingly. And not exactly in scientific terms. That afternoon in his office, he had not informed Lisa Pilsner that she was a "competent fellatrix." Over and over again, he had truthfully exclaimed, "You're a fantastic cocksucker!" Tony's mind went back to that first year of marriage. He clearly recalled Betty's displeasure when during sex Tony had groaned: "Oh, Betty darling, I could fuck you all night and all day!" Vulgar, his wife had termed it. Honest, Tony had decided. But from then on, he had always kept his sexual thoughts to himself. Except on those rare occasions when he had paid a prostitute to give vent to all his frustrations. Tony appreciated the basic honesty of prostitutes. Everything was always so well laid out in advance. Before he ever took a hooker to a motel room he would spell it right out: I don't mind giving you a few extra dollars, but I've got to get my cock sucked, and I dig dirty talk. Yes or no, baby-don't waste my time!
Tony moved his gaze on from his wife to his sister-in-law Marge and her husband Tom. To Tony, Marge, a few years older than Betty, was always a royal pain in the ass. And those two precocious youngsters of hers always bugged him. He didn't seem to mind Tom. In fact, he could actually enjoy an occasional conversation with his brother-in-law who also managed one of the Traymore stores. But Tony was certain of one thing. He wouldn't trust Tom with any of his plans to push the Old Man out of control. Tom was much too henpecked to suit Tony. A man like that couldn't be trusted to help push the old man into retirement.
Tony continued his visual trip around the table, biting his lip as he took in the bulky mess that was Clarence Traymore. Next to him, silent as usual, was his ever-faithful wife, Lenore. Still in her fifties, Lenore had no doubt retired from the sexual arena. Tony could almost determine this fact of life by examining that certain look on his mother-in-law's face. This woman was much too engrossed in her afternoon teas and charities-sublimation after sublimation.
Tony worked his glance back at Old Man Traymore, forcing back a smile. Tony knew only too well that the old man had not retired from the sexual arena. Tony knew most specifically of a number of young chicks the Old Man hired for his fun and games. If the Old Man's wife only knew-Tony shrugged to himself. If Lenore only knew the really wild and perverse sex routines the Old Man went for with those young, teenaged hookers. Tony and the "new group" had it all documented-you never know when such material might come in handy.
Before moving his gaze around the table, Tony hesitated, wondering what one certain sex kick the Old Man dug might really be like. Tony tried to imagine what it might be like to have a young girl squatting over your face and actually urinating on your face. Tony caught hold of himself, realizing that he was guilty of the scientific mumbo-jumbo. Tell it like it is, he told himself-to have a girl piss in your mouth.
Tony's next inspection was of Clarence Traymore, Jr. Junior ... even in his old age, he would still be called Junior. Tony was amazed that nobody at that table realized what he knew to be a fact about the seemingly bright twenty-one year old college Junior. Dear Junior did not dig the opposite sex. Dear Junior had a very special male lover at college, and was firmly entrenched in the "Gay life."
Tony shrugged it off-different strokes for different folks, he reminded himself. The fact was that he liked Junior as a person. Junior had all the decent qualities that his old man lacked. Junior had always been much closer to his mother than to his father. Some of Lenore's finer qualities just had to rub off on the boy-even at the expense of turning him Gay.
Tony moved his gaze from Junior to Tricia, smiling at the twelve year old girl. Dear "Baby-Tricia"-Old Man Traymore's pride and joy, his wife's change-of-life baby. Two days to go, and "Baby-Tricia" would officially be a teenager. Tony studied the young girl, totally amazed at the physical transformation he had been witnessing during the past few months. Maybe she would officially be a teenager in a matter of two days, but for the past few months, she possessed all the attributes of young womanhood. Tricia had that long natural strawberry blonde hair. She had a warm, sensitive face-and that certain smile-to Tony it already seemed to convey a sexual invitation. Tony fixed his sight line directly on those small but perfectly formed breasts. He was certain those ripening young mounds were pressing hard against her training bra.
Tony's thoughts went back a few months-that summer, watching the budding girl in her skintight little bikini-that very special indentation of young pussy-Tony's thoughts returned to the present. He realized that before dinner, seated in the living room, he had concentrated fully on the girl's exposed thighs. It seemed as though Tricia had purposely hiked her mini-skirt up, knowing that he was seated directly across from her. Tony recalled that perfect young V of her panty-covered snatch. He wet his lips, wondering how tasty that young cunt might be. She's just about ready, Tony told himself, playing out a fantasy of lifting her young, lithe legs skyward, tugging her little panties off and getting his mouth right down on that delightful young snatch. Maybe she wasn't quite ready to take his thick nine inches of cock, but he could damned sure work the tip of his tongue delightfully about that sensitive little clitoris.
Tony felt his cock hardening, certain that "Baby-Tricia" was now pressing her knee against his. He watched her slouched down, just enough to be able to touch his knee with hers.
Oh, that cock-teasing little smile. Tony was certain that he recognized it. Tony returned to his delightful fantasy of eating that young pussy, imagining his hands grabbing at her young ass. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, wondering what it might be like to taste the crack of her ass, to get his tongue all the way up her young shit-trail.
"Tricia-baby!" Old Man Traymore called out. "Sit up like the pretty young lady you're supposed to be," he coughed. "Don't slouch down like that."
"Yes, Daddy," the girl beamed, sitting up in her chair, her eyes seemingly telling Tony it was fun while it lasted.
Tony could not control the hardening of his cock, realizing that lately, practically every
Thursday night, he had been obsessed with the sight of Tricia's constantly hiked-up skirt and the slyly exposed V of her little panties. When she was younger, it seemed such a natural thing, but now it was as though she was purposely displaying her young wares for him.
Catch hold of yourself, Tony warned himself, smug with the thought that the Old Man couldn't read his mind and especially not the fantasy of eating his precious little Baby-Tricia's pussy.
Tony watched the Old Man talking, bragging incessantly about the big game hunting trip he had just made. The words were running on as Tony's thoughts went back to that very eventful afternoon.
Lisa Pilsner. His mind recreated that fantastic scene in his office-what a guy always dreams about, but never seems to actually happen. Well, it had happened that afternoon. A fantastic afternoon of thrills. Oh, Lisa, Lisa, you fantastic cocksucker. He'd be seeing more of her, he felt certain of that. They both had a common need-thrills, bigger and better thrills. They had not actually discussed it; it wasn't necessary. Two people have that certain way of knowing when they're on a similar life style path.
And what a beautiful bonus, Tony smugly reminded himself. Lisa's signature on a confession of shoplifting. Tony recalled how smoothly he had tricked her into thinking she was signing a charge order, to put the necklace on her account. "'That would settle everything," lie had informed her. If she had merely forgotten to have it charged to her account-all a misunderstanding.
Tony experienced one slight pang of conscience. He did not want to hurt Lisa, but what a fantastically great potential insurance policy. Tony knew only too well the power of Lisa's husband-Old Man Traymore's special corporation attorney. That little piece of paper was in a safe place; Tony hoped that he would never have to use it.
"Daddy?" Tricia called out, pulling Tony out of his thoughts, bringing his sight line back on a par with those budding young breasts across from him. 'Can I be excused from the table?"
"Only if my baby-Tricia gives her Daddy a bin hug and a kiss!" the old man shrilled, putting his hands out to his favorite young daughter. 'Pretty soon you'll be so grownup and won't have time for your old Daddy," Clarence Traymore played out his being hurt.
'Oh. Daddy, don't be silly!" the girl shrilled, throwing her arms wildly about the rotund man and planting a kiss on his cheek.
"'What will you always be?" he asked.
"Hurry, hurry, tell your old Daddy!" he played a little game, quickly kissing her chin a number of times.
"Daddy's little girl!" Tricia proclaimed, as she had done so many times before this. "Forever'n ever!" she added, planting another kiss on his forehead.
"Oh, that's my precious little baby-Tricia!" he exclaimed, hugging her warmly, the side of his arm obviously brushing up against her tightly sweatered young breasts. "The day after tomorrow we're gonna throw the wildest birthday party ever for my little baby-aren't we, honey?"
"Yes, Daddy, we sure are!"
"Over forty children have been invited," Lenore Traymore shrugged, "they'll wreck the house for sure."
"My little baby will be a teenager!" Clarence Traymore proclaimed, the back of his arm still gliding back and forth on those jutting hills. 'Now go, do whatever you've got to do, precious baby," he beamed, playfully smacking her behind. 'On the telephone with your girlfriends, I suppose-and probably already talking about boys!"
"Oh Daddy!" Tricia moaned, wiggling out of his reach. "It's just girl talk-"
Tony watched Tricia literally bounce out of the room. That little ass of hers, he had never realized how beautifully it was developing. He ran the tip of his tongue over his parched bps, thinking how nice it would be to give "baby-Tricia" an extra-special thirteenth birthday present-a trip around the world. He'd start with her toes, work up those slim, curvy legs, right up to that young snatch with the hair just starting to bush. He'd tongue that little clit like crazy, every so often working his tongue out to taste the crack of her ass.
"Tony-" his wife was nudging him. She had that certain way of pulling at his arm to get his attention. "Didn't you hear Daddy? He just called your name, but you seem so far off."
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Tony beamed, smug with his secret thoughts of and for baby-Tricia. 'What were you saying?"
"Well, glad to see you're with us, Tony! I just wanted to know how things have been at your store. I haven't talked to you all week long."
"Oh, going along fine," Tony shrugged. "All the Christmas orders have been filled, and we-"
"Now let's not have any shop talk," Lenore Traymore cut in. "You men have all day long for that."
"Let's go in the study," Clarence informed his captive audience. "I'm just dying to show you the movies I took up North.
"That was really a ferocious-looking bear you bagged!" Tony's brother-in-law Tom beamed, obviously getting in a few brownie points with the old man.
"Wasn't it a beauty!" Betty chimed in. "And Daddy, the way you managed to hit it right in the heart!" She nudged Tony. "Wasn't that fantastic, honey?"
"Yeah, sure." Tony watched Junior slip away, sneaking toward the foyer. Probably can't wait to get back to his gay lover, Tony smugly told himself.
"Well, let's go to the study," Clarence called out again. "I've already got the projector set up."
Tony had had it with home movies, but there would be no escaping this filming of the Old Man's latest hunting trip. He felt Betty place her hand on his as they all started to rise. like sheep, they would all follow that chubby old man to his study, and show their emotions on cue as he ran his latest film of his outdoor prowess.
"I'll be right with you," Tony held back. "I've go to make an important call-security at the store."
"Business before pleasure," Old Man Traymore beamed at his son-in-law. "Why don't you use the phone in my den?"
"Thank you, Sir."
"Join us as soon as you can," Betty smiled weakly at her husband, masking her curiosity over the all "important" phone calls he seemed to be making lately. Tony watched them troop into the study before entering the Old man's private den and library. He let out a hopeless gust of air, wondering how much longer he could take these Thursday night rituals. He was so damned tired of routine-routine-humdrum routine.
Absently, he picked up the phone. He stopped short before starting to dial, listening to the giggling girl's voice on the phone. Tricia was using the extension phone upstairs, he realized. He was about to excuse himself and recradle the receiver, but froze at the words he heard on the other end. A boy's voice, that teenaged crackle. But the words ... they seemed to have paralyzed Tony. Had he heard right?
"Hey, Tricia, my buddy's cock is even bigger than mine! You'll like him!"
Tony froze, receiver up close to his ear. Yes, he had heard right. That's exactly what had penetrated his earlobe: "Hey, Tricia, my buddy's cock is even bigger than mine! You'll like him!"
An obscene phone call ... someone was making an obscene phone call to Tricia. Tony hesitated, wondering if he should cut in, wondering what he should say. He was sidetracked by that very certain giggle that belonged to "baby-Tricia." He swayed slightly, her reply slowly penetrating his brain.
"Well, your cock wasn't so big!" Tony heard Tricia's voice shrill in between her giggling.
"It's big enough," the young voice on the other end replied. "And didn't I know how to use it on you?"
"You sure did!" Tricia replied, keeping her voice low between giggles.
"So do you want to meet my buddy?" the boy's voice asked again.
"How old is he?"
"He's fifteen, and real experienced with girls."
"What does that mean?" Tony heard Tricia's giggling voice.
"That means that he'll give you a terrific fucking!"
"What's your buddy's name?"
"Andy. He's right here if you want to talk to him, Tricia."
Tony swayed uneasily, still clutching the receiver close to his ear, not believing that he had actually heard Tricia's next response:
"Just how big is his cock, Billy?"
"He's got me and Jimmy both beat. Here I'll let you talk to him yourself. If you like him, make a date and we'll all three be there."
'Well, let me talk to him," Tricia smugly replied. "Maybe I will-and maybe I won't."
Tony sucked in his breath, fearful that Tricia might discover that someone was on the extension. This was wild ... he thought, realizing that in that short span of time of listening in on their sexually-laden conversation his cock was rock-hard and banging furiously against his trousers. Talk about new thrills ... this was doing wonders for him.
Tony unzipped his fly and yanked his throbbing hard cock out of his trousers as he heard the new boy's voice on the other end of the line. A slightly older, more cocky voice. Tony stroked his cock back and forth, remaining still, anxious to hear every word and every sigh between the words. He could just imagine that those young boys were tugging at their hard cocks, and most likely, up in her room, Tricia had a few fingers lodged deeply into her young cunt.
What a show ... Tony moaned to himself, ready to draw in his own mental images to the audio portion he was tuned in on. Tony kept stroking his thick cock back and forth, listening intently to every word, sigh, giggle and groan from the youngsters:
"Hi, Tricia? This is Andy."
"Hi, yourself, Andy." Tricia giggled. "Billy's been telling me all about you."
"I'd sure like to make it with you, Tricia. Billy and Jimmy have been telling me what a hot little lay you are!"
"Have they been blabbing it around to everyone?"
"No, Tricia, honest. Just to me. The three of us really stick together-you can trust us."
"So you want a date with me?" Tricia's voice was coy. "Are you as handsome and big as Billy claims you are?"
"I haven't had any complaints so far," Andy bragged.
"How big is it?" Tricia boldly asked. "Billy said you guys all measure your dicks when you're fooling around."
"I've got pretty damned close to seven inches!" Andy boasted. "I'm the biggest of all the guys around here!"
"You're kidding, is it really that big?"
"Meet me tomorrow night, you know, behind the railroad warehouse, and I'll prove it to you!"
"Will you be nice to me, Andy?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll give you a good fucking. And I know how to hold it back. I won't come right away like Billy and Jimmy do. You'll see!"
"That isn't exactly what I mean by being nice to me," Tricia's pouting voice replied. "I mean, will you also wanna neck and pet and make out."
"Yeah, sure, just as long as you let me fuck you!"
"You know what I really like, Andy."
"No, what?"
"I like a boy to play with my knockers."
"Yeah, I dig that. Hell, I'll suck on the nipples like crazy!"
"Oh, Andy, you're getting me all excited!"
"Then sneak out tonight. Let's make it tonight-we'll ball like crazy!"
"I can't! We've got company, and they won't let me out. Tomorrow night is my only chance-they think I'm going to my girlfriend's house. It'll have to be tomorrow night.
"Oh, I may die until then," Andy's voice moaned over the phone. "If you know what I mean, Tricia."
"I think I do," she giggled. "Is it real hard right now?"
"It's as hard as a rock, just thinking about your pussy."
"Are you playing with yourself?" she asked.
"We all are! Man, we're all about to explode!"
"Guess what I'm doing, Andy."
"Tell me."
"I'm lying on my bed, with my hand up under my dress." She cut it short to let out a giggle-
"Yeah, tell me what else you're doing, Tricia."
"My panties are off, and I've got three fingers shoved up my cunt, and I'm pretending it's really your cock."
"Oh, that's wild!" Andy countered. "Man, I'm beating my meat like crazy! Can you hear the noise?"
"Not really-"
"Now listen, Tricia, I'm going to put the receiver right down by my cock while I'm pounding it."
Tony found himself jerking off like a schoolboy, listening to the sound of that teenaged boy beating his meat over the phone. Tony had to hold back on the hand-action, fearful that he might explode and shoot his semen all over the rug and up on the desk. He tried desperately to check his heavy breathing, anxious to not miss a moment of the vocal show he was being treated to.
"Tricia?" Andy's voice called over the line. "Did you hear my cock banging against the receiver?"
"Wow, I sure did!"
"Well, tomorrow night you can watch it banging against your cunt. How does that sound to you?"
"Real groovy! Will it be just you and me? I mean, I want it to be like a date."
"What's wrong with Billy and Jimmy being there? I mean, you've already been putting out for them. They wanna watch us in action. It might be kinda fun!"
"Well, okay. Tomorrow night, about seven thirty, once it gets dark enough."
Tony heard a round of raucous laughter on the boy's end. He then heard Tricia question what the laughter was all about.
"Billy just shot his load!" Andy explained. "All over the living room rug! What a mess!"
"He always shoots too fast," Tricia laughed. "I hope you won't be too fast, Andy."
"Don't you worry, I had an older girl teach me how to hold back. And then after we rest a while, we can always start fucking a second time!"
"Wow, that sounds real groovy!" Tricia groaned.
"Don't overwork that pussy with your fingers," Andy smugly informed her. " 'cause I'll take good care of it tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night..." Andy repeated. "We're gonna fuck up a storm."
"Oh, wow!" Tricia exclaimed, obviously jabbing her fingers deeper into her love-slit. "Tomorrow night, Andy. G'bye!"
Tony remained motionless, his hand firmly on his rock-hard cock for a long time after he heard both clicks, one on each end.
"Precious little baby-Tricia..." he finally moaned, putting the receiver down. "Baby-Tricia's hot little cunt ... " he whispered hoarsely, by now totally oblivious to the important phone call he had set out to make. "Those kids are too much." he added, still not certain he had actually heard those wild sexual invitations. He somehow managed to work his still hard cock back inside his trousers and painfully he zipped up his fly.
They would be expecting him shortly in the study, to sit in the dark and view that damned idiotic home movie of the Old Man's latest big game hunting caper. Well, Tony had a big game caper in mind with a hot little doe named Tricia.
"No..." he whispered to himself, feeling beads of perspiration starting at his forehead. "This is insane!" He added to himself that if he ever attempted anything with Tricia, and the Old Man found out-he'd be washed up, his entire life ruined. It was one thing if Tricia was putting out for the neighborhood boys in her age bracket-but it would be entirely another thing if he forced his intentions on her.
"Rape!" That's what they'd call it. And in the courts-statutory rape. That damned hard-on ... he couldn't get his cock to soften.
The upstairs bathroom. He would lock the door behind him and jerk off like a damned schoolboy-just so that he would cool off. He hurried out of the den, bounding to the stairway, taking the stairs two and even three at a time. Somehow, finally finding himself standing before the commode, he was about to close the bathroom door behind him and unzip his fly to let that hard monster out for a quick and very necessary deflation.
Tony stopped short, suddenly aware of Tricia's bedroom door wide open, her young eyes taking in the full length of his body.
A sane voice within him cried out: Lock the bathroom door behind you and jerk that cock off to safety. You can think right with a soft dick-but like the old saying goes-a stiff prick has no conscience. Close the door and jerk off. She's jailbait and trouble. Real big trouble!"
Another, more powerful voice seemed to he taking command of his senses, seemingly pointing out the way to new, bigger and better thrills. And after all, wasn't that what it was all about? That constant search for new thrills. Whenever the conventional humdrum everyday routine seemed to be closing in on him, he thought he'd go insane. So it was dangerous ... all the more thrilling.
Tony pretended he didn't know she was watching him from across the hallway. He unzipped his fly and reeled out his long length of throbbing cock as though he were urinating.
The cock stood at attention; he was unable to urinate in that massive condition. Calmly, certain her young eyes were glued on the sight, he tugged his meat back within the confines of his trousers and zipped his fly back up again.
He headed out of the bathroom, standing indecisively in the hallway, watching that smile on her young face, her legs folded underneath her. The sane voice was at it again, telling him enough was enough, don't press your luck too far.
Tony wasn't listening, he smiled back at Tricia, slowly moving over to her doorway. Standing in her doorway, he let loose his bombshell:
"Hey, Tricia-baby ... tomorrow night's your big night, huh?"
"You were listening-" Tricia paled.
"Oh, I'm not a squealer," he playfully toyed with her. "I hope you really enjoy the fucking Andy promised to give you-"
"Oh, no!" She tensed. "You heard-"
"Don't sweat it, baby-Tricia," he assured her, closing her bedroom door behind him. "Now I have to get downstairs, but first I'd like to give you something those young boys aren't pro enough to give you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Baby-Tricia, get on your back and throw those hot little legs up in the air-and I'll eat out your pussy like crazy!"
"Oh, wow..." The frown and worried expression on her face slowly transformed to a smile. "Oh, wow ... Tony, you wanna fuck me...."
"You're not quite ready for my big meat," he informed her, taking her ankles in his hands and hoisting her legs upward. "But my mouth is watering to taste that hot, little cunt of yours," his muffled voice informed her, his mouth open, his tongue darting instantly into the slightly-haired love-slit.
"Oh, wow!" she roared, "I've never felt anything like that! Oh, wow!"
"Keep your voice down," he whispered, face still buried in her love-mound. "Or we'll have an audience."
"Wouldn't they all be surprised," the bold girl giggled, "especially Daddy-dear!"
"Oh, I'm going to eat this until I taste your love-juice," he whispered. "Just watch me go."
"Oh, wow..." was all Tricia could manage to say, over and over again as Tony's expert tongue worked deeper and deeper into the love-slit, savoring all of that fantastic young pussy taste. "Oh, wow ... oh, wow ... oh, wow...."
Oh, wow, is a hundred percent right, Tony smugly told himself, tasting that very special thick love-juice. Oh, wow, is more than right, he added to himself, realizing that she had unzipped his fly and was now furiously jerking him off. Oh, wow, again, he strained within himself, feeling his love-juice explode and land across the bedspread.
"Oh, wow..." she finally uttered, hand still on his limp cock. "I can't wait to be able to take this fantastically big cock of yours, Tony."
Tony let the girl who was only two days away from her thirteenth birthday in on a secret; neither could he wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
FILIAL FUCK
"Oh, no..."Lisa moaned. "What have I done to you, what have I done to my precious baby..."
"Hey, Mom ... please don't cry."
"I don't know what possessed me."
"Exactly what possessed me," Timmy quickly cut in, pressing his full length of sweaty nude frame down on hers. "Don't go blaming yourself, Mom," he pleaded, feeling that his cock was still semi-hard within the warmth of her vagina. "It was bound to happen, Mom," he whispered in her ear, his arms still wrapped about her, sensing that their love-juices were joined together within her. "We've always been left together, and Dad doesn't seem to give a damn!"
"I had no right, Timmy-baby, I just don't know what possessed me."
"Please don't cry," he implored, wanting desperately to keep his young equipment buried within the warmth of her vagina. "Please don't cry, Mom...."
"What made me do it. . . " Lisa checked her sobbing, realizing only too well what had made her seduce her son. She knew only too well that the potential was always there, but the fury of that afternoon in Tony Mondor's office had uncorked her inhibitions to the point where she was capable of most anything-even this sordid happening with her own son.
But was it so sordid, she asked herself? Recalling how beautifully Timmy had plunged to and fro, feverishly working that slim young cock of his in and out of her vagina. And all so perfectly in tune with her experienced urging. And that fantastic moment when they had exploded together; how easily she had directed him to frenzy his action at that very specific moment when she was about to orgasm. Together-ever so beautifully together. It had been a long time since she had experienced that perfect moment of togetherness with her husband. But with Timmy, it all seemed so natural.
"No..." she moaned, closing her eyes, trying desperately not to look up into his face. "No ... no ... I had no right...."
"You did, Mom, you did! Can't you understand that-this has been a long time coming! I've sensed it."
"But that doesn't make it right," she wailed, eyes still tightly closed. "They have a name for what we've done-a very ugly name, Timmy, my precious darling."
"I don't care, Mom-I just don't give a damn ... I just know I like being with you this way," he pleaded, feeling new life return to his once-spent cock. "I-I'm not afraid with you."
"Timmy, you've got to get this out of your mind," she implored, opening her eyes to put her message across. "You've got to pretend it didn't happen. It was all just make-believe-a terrible nightmare!"
"No, Mom, it was too beautiful to be a nightmare! It was dream-like, and I'll always want to share this with you," he informed her, his cock once again rock-hard within her vagina.
"Oh, my precious baby," she wailed. "What have I done to you-what have I done to you!"
"You've made me a man, Mom-a real man!" he cried out, bringing his lips down on hers.
"No, Timmy, don't..." she felt the warmth of his lips pressing hers. like a doorbell ringing, she automatically opened her mouth to let his tongue greet and twine hers. Her shuddering groan was her concession speech, and she clawed her fingers up into the flesh of his back, feeling that eager young tongue work wonders within her mouth.
"Now it's my turn to take the lead," he whimpered, totally out of breath. "It's my turn," he repeated, grinding his trim hips upward, preparing to piston his full length of cock deep within her love-slit.
'"Oh, my precious baby--! " Lisa moaned, feeling the young cock so expertly piston in and out of her warm and tingling love-trail. "Oh, darling-darling-darling...." she moaned, each time the head of his cock seemed ready to tear right through her. "Oh, my precious baby..." she wailed, feeling his hands expertly grab at her buttocks, fingers digging into the soft flesh of the crack of her ass.
"'Together, Mom-oh, together, together, together," he instructed her, getting her to gyrate upward each time he worked that slim-jim cock down into the very core of her being. "Oh, forever and ever," he promised, realizing that on the second-time-around he would be able to last much longer than he had the first time. "Oh, let's make it to the moon and back, Mom!"
"Oh, yes, yes, yes..." she conceded with each upward thrust of her body, not giving a damn about that ugly word to describe mother and son together in this, the most intimate of ways.
"Always together like this, Mom," he breathed heavily in her ear, his cock pistoning in and out of her at an unbelievable rate of speed. "Please, please...."
"Oh, yes, yes, yes ... just the two of us ... just the two of us...."
Lisa spiraled upward wanting desperately to believe that it could really be just the two of them, making it beautifully together. Easily, she blocked out the image of her husband and his straight and narrow ways-the boy's father. She gyrated her hips wildly to meet each and every cock-thrust the boy slammed into her, but she could not block out the full view of that seemingly never-ending lifetime she had spent with Tony Mondor that afternoon. Perspiration started running freely down her forehead, her pangs of guilt knifing unmercifully through every bit of her body.
Timmy had her on a pedestal. That was why he could feel no wrong in their unnatural union. But what if Timmy had seen her that afternoon. What if her son had seen her down on her knees, Tony's enormous length of hard cock bobbing in and out of her mouth. Then Timmy would know what she really was.
Exactly what Tony Mondor had repeatedly called her: "Cocksucker! Hey, cocksucker, eat that cock!" Lisa furiously bit her tongue, recalling how it had flicked up and down the crack of that man's ass-hole, the tip of it seemingly in search of his shit.
"Oh, Timmy, I'm no good!" she cried out, "L did wrong-wrong-wrong!"
"No! You could never do wrong! Now together, Mom! Let's make it again together."
"Oh, my precious baby-"
"Please," he begged, pistoning his long reel of hard meat savagely into her, his fingers now clawing within the crack of her ass. "Together again-let's make it flow together! Oh, please, Mom!"
"Yes, son, yes ... " she responded, now blurry-eyed, anxious to please her son in any way she could. "Whatever you want-"
"Make it together!" he implored, his hands telling her to move her body with wanton lust. "I'm coming, Mom, I'm coming!"
"Oh, give it to me!" she roared. "Oh, flood me with come, together, together, together...." together, together, together...."
"Son..." Lisa finally managed to utter, finally able to catch her breath. "Don't hate me-"
"Mom, I don't-"
"Not now or ever, please, Timmy, please ... don't hate me."
"Never, Mom, never," he pledged, carefully drying the tears starting to flow down her cheeks. "Now please stop crying."
"Okay," she finally managed a smile. "It looks like you'll have to take another shower."
"Oh, I hate to break away," he moaned, his now totally spent cock still buried within her vagina. "It feels so warm and cozy."
"Young man, I'm deathly afraid you'll spring back into life," she teased him, playfully pinching him on a buttock. "And you're just too much for me to keep up with. To the shower with you, young man!"
"Hey, Mom, remember when I was a little kid and you used to wash me in the tub? Well, how about soaping me up in the shower-"
"Why you little devil!" she pinched his buttock again.
"Aw, please, Mom," he playfully pouted, suddenly working his mouth downward to clamp his lips about a brownish-hued tip, his hand heaving the lush mound upward.
"Oh, you playful little pup!" she cried out, managing to shut out the frightening aspects of that afternoon. "Go to the shower, young man. I'll give you a real good soaping-one you'll never forget."
"Right on!" the hip teenager sang out, giving both lush mounds a final tug and pull. "And don't be too far behind me," he moaned, letting his spent cock plop noisily out of her love-slit.
"Be off with you!" she playfully smacked his lean behind. Oh, how beautiful. .-she thought, watching him through the opened bathroom door. She smiled, watching him eagerly pull back the shower curtains, his cock and balls bouncing so freely. She watched him testing the water, then eagerly stepping into the full spray. She watched him arch his back, moving his muscular chest into the full current of the water. Oh, how beautiful ... she had a right to him ... she most certainly did. The boy's father ... her husband ... in his own cold way had in reality deserted them both. Together in the same house-and yet so distant. Lisa watched her nude, romping, young Adonis in the shower. They would always be close, ever so close, she convinced herself. She moistened her lips, realizing that she wanted to savor the boy's slim-jim cock and those delightfully low-slung balls.
"Hey, c'mon, Mom! There's a whole bar of soap here! You soap me-and I'll soap you!"
Lisa pushed herself upward from her seated position on the edge of the bed, slowly starting her march toward the opened bathroom door. She suddenly stopped short, amazed at the sight of his iron-hard cock standing at attention as though saluting her. She couldn't believe that any man's cock could spring back to life so quickly after those two fantastic workouts and heavy loads he had erupted deep within her love-trail.
Lisa swayed uneasily as his arms were stretched out to encourage her to join him in the shower. She could not stop running her tongue over her lips, sensing that dry feeling in her throat.
What would Timmy think if she suddenly worked her mouth over that slim piece of hard meat? Would he call her what Tony Mondor had called her: "A cocksucker!"
"Hey, Mom, c'mon! The water's fine!"
Lisa slowly started her nude frame in motion, telling herself that what was destined to happen would happen-she'd play it all by ear. Boldly, she started her journey to her son frolicking under the shower.
That steady ring-she stopped short, as though it was the entire world proclaiming her sin. Blaring out what she had done to her son.
That steady ring.
"It's the telephone, Mom," her son seemed to be explaining. "Let's just ignore it-and it will go away."
"Oh, my gosh!" she cried out, suddenly totally back in the real straight and narrow world imposed upon her, first by her parents-and then by her husband. "Oh, my gosh, what have I done!" she cried out, quickly scooping up her undergarments and skirt, as she raced out of the boy's room.
That steady ring ... why wouldn't it stop? Even in the safety of her own bedroom.
"The phone..." she moaned. "The phone...." She managed to pull herself over to it, edging her body down on the edge of her own bed. Weakly, she picked up the receiver, slowly bringing it up to her ear. "Hello...."
"Hello, Mrs. Pilsner?" the man's voice started in a somewhat thick quality. "Is this Mrs. John Pilsner?"
"Yes, it is." She waited impatiently. "Who is this, please?" Again, she waited, hearing the man's heavy breath over the receiver. "Please tell me who it is-or I'll hang up."
"We just met this afternoon, Mrs. Pilsner, under rather strange circumstances-if you know what I mean?"
"Who is this?" Lisa asked again, her fears mounting. "Please tell me."
"Now don't be alarmed, Mrs. Pilsner," the man's voice continued. "I only want to be your friend."
"I don't understand-"
"Mrs. Pilsner, did you enjoy yourself with Mr. Mondor?"
"Who is this!"
"You were in there with him for quite some time, Mrs. Pilsner. An hour and a half to be exact-from the very moment I left you two together."
"The guard..." Lisa muttered. "But-but why are you calling me?" she asked. "I made restitution for the necklace-"
"I'll bet you did," the voice came through loud and lewd. "I'll just bet you did!"
"I had the necklace charged to my account! I always meant to-I-I just had so many things on my mind that I walked out of die store with it-"
"Hidden in your purse," the man's voice concluded. "But that's neither here nor there, Mrs. Pilsner. You could say that this is a social call. We're not exactly strangers, you know."
"What are you talking about?" Lisa nervously flustered, trying desperately to remember his appearance. She drew a total blank, unable to remember anything beyond that dull gray uniform worn by a middle-aged man. Anyway she vaguely remembered grayish sideburns. "What's your name?" she asked, attempting to brave it out.
"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. My name is Charley Soma. like almost all store guards, I used to be on the police force. In fact, Mrs. Pilsner, my beat was in your neighborhood. At Christmas time your husband would always invite us in for a quick drink-at the kitchen door, of course. Say, your husband is quite an important lawyer in this town, isn't he, Mrs. Pilsner?"
"Yes, he is..." Lisa absently replied, her fears rapidly mounting. She could smell it over the phone-blackmail, of one sort or another.
"Of course, he must be really busy, giving you a lot of free time."
"What are you driving at?"
"And me a widower, living all by myself-"
"I'll call Mr. Mondor! I'll call him in the morning and report you!"
"Well, then I'd have to call your husband," his voice calmly countered. "Wouldn't I, Mrs. Pilsner?"
"Oh, please-"
"I just thought we might hit it off pretty nice together at my place, have a few drinks, together-"
"No, please-"
"Don't be anti-social, I'd like to be your friend. like at my place tomorrow night. How about it?"
"Hey, Mom?" Timmy called out from her bedroom doorway. "What's the matter?"
She looked up, aware that he was now wearing a bathrobe. "Nothing, son, nothing...." She attempted a brave smile.
"Who's that on the phone?" Timmy asked.
"Oh, just a salesman." Slowly she returned the mouthpiece close to her lips. She pulled herself together, speaking directly into the instrument. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Well, how about it? Tomorrow night-and I promise I'll never bother you again. Ten-fifteen Arsvalle Drive, apartment three-B. How about it?"
"Yes ... " she replied. "Just the one item-nothing else . . nothing else . . "
"What'd you buy?" Timmy asked, watching her slowly recradle the phone.
Lisa watched her handsome son in the doorway, answering his question totally within herself. Trouble-more trouble.
CHAPTER FIVE
LUSTFUL LAWYER
John Pilsner cleared his throat, taking his eyes off her exposed thighs. She's such a young girl ... probably eighteen or nineteen. About all he really knew about her was that her name was Valerie and that she was in the steno pool. He sneaked a glance over his horned-rimmed glasses, just in time to catch her tugging downward on her mini-skirt. That always amazed him. First a girl wears an extremely short dress, and then she's forever tugging it downward to cover herself. Personally, he hoped the midi would truly return on the scene-especially about the office. Maybe then the junior attorneys and the law clerks would pay more attention to their work.
"Valerie, read that last paragraph back to me-no, that's all right, don't bother."
"Will that be all, Mr. Pilsner?" She nervously uncrossed her legs. "Did I do something wrong, sir?"
"No-no..." His smile was strained "My thoughts seem to be straying. Make that for my signature, and type it up in three copies. I know it's late and you probably want to get home, but this is extremely important."
"Yes sir." He watched the young girl seemingly bounce out of his office, amazed at such a blatant sexual display in so short a skirt that seemed to have its own way of highlighting her buttocks. He drummed a pencil on his desk, happy to know that his regular secretary Martha would be over her virus and back to work in a day or two. He was lost without Martha to keep order for him.
The middle-aged woman had been there a year before he had arrived as a junior partner. Martha's hemlines had never gone up or down with the times, always remaining at what John Pilsner considered "a decent level" slightly below the knees.
"Damn that girl..." he now muttered to himself, trying desperately to recall what he had dictated in that letter to Clarence Traymore. Basically, it was all there, he thought, even if he had been distracted. There should be enough there to put Clarence on his guard-an unknown group was trying desperately to buy up Traymore stock. John recalled their last phone conversation, and realized that he would be on the phone again with Clarence in a matter of days. But John was a lawyer of the old school and he believed in "put it in writing." Then it became official.
John Pilsner pushed his padded chair back, got up and started pacing about the room, wondering how long that new girl would take to type out such a simple three paragraph letter. He checked his wristwatch, he didn't want to be late for his date.
His date ... that was a totally new phrase for him, and it frightened him somewhat. He brought a hand up to his receding hairline, pulling in on his stomach. It surprised him that he was suddenly contemplating buying a hairpiece and going on a diet to trim down his weight. But then-what would his wife think? Lisa ... had he remembered to call her and tell her that he wouldn't be able to get home until very late? Yes, he had. He stopped short, realizing that she had accepted this without even waiting to hear his fabrication. But then, most of the time he was out with various attorneys and clients until all hours of the night.
"But not tonight ... " he inwardly murmured, thinking about his young date.
"Date...." He tried the word on for size, and it made him smile. Yes, he was actually going on a date-just as soon as that idiotic young girl from the steno pool-what's her name, Valerie, would have that important letter ready for his signature.
His date. He hurried over to the phone and grabbed at the receiver. First he had to look the number up in his little book. He dialed, repeating each number to himself as he did. He listened to the first ring, then the second, and then the third. "Damned..." he muttered to himself, realizing he was acting like a schoolboy.
He heard the voice on the other end and instantly lit up. "Hi!" he beamed, trying desperately to not sound like a stuffy, middle-aged corporation lawyer. "Did you just get there?" He smiled, seemingly pleased with the reply. "I'm still in my office, but I should be able to get away in ten or fifteen minutes. In the meantime," he started, breathing heavily. "Why don't you get into something that will really please me?
You were telling me about that powder blue negligee..." He suddenly found his free hand down on his crotch, rubbing and brushing the rising bulge. "Wear something frilly and beautiful. I've been thinking about you that way."
John listened intently, his hand working more furiously at his crotch as he did. "I'll get there as soon as I can-just be ready for me," he moaned, then hung up the receiver.
John Pilsner drew his hand away from his crotch, suspiciously looking toward his closed door, wondering if that girl had been listening in. If she had, he told himself, she would have been in for quite a shock. In this, the most respectable law firm in town, John Pilsner was considered a pillar of respectability, and certainly wouldn't be telling his date to be ready for him in a sheer negligee.
"His date...." He tried it on for size, over and over again. "His date..." This would certainly be a "first" for John Pilsner. Oh, there had been those encounters-but never anything planned. This was different, this was totally planned-a premeditated affair.
Lisa ... his wife would never understand. How could he possibly expect her to understand? He would just have to go on being a decently good husband to her. John Pilsner had always prided himself on being a "decently good husband." And how about his son? No ... a seventeen year old boy couldn't possibly understand his need for tonight's date-a date that could lead to much more. Much more than he could possibly cope with, he was intelligent enough to realize. But there was no turning back for him; in so many different ways, this date had been in the making for a few years now, possibly even before he married Lisa.
John perched himself on the edge of his desk, wondering if it didn't go back even further than that. He shrugged, asking himself how he had managed to keep so much of himself submerged for so long, masking it all in his "Live right, good, straight and narrow" concept of life.
"All the way back ... " he inwardly murmured, recalling a very specific day in his life. Was he eleven years old-or twelve? What he could remember most clearly was that he had been sent home from school with another one of his bouts of nose bleeding. "Mommy's boy Johnny has another nosebleed!" the other boys would taunt him.
That exceptionally muggy spring afternoon ... he had quietly entered the house through the kitchen entrance, since he knew his mother often suffered from "her migraines," and she might be up in her room taking a nap. Maybe, just maybe ... if he was real quiet ... he could tiptoe up there and get on the bed with her. He enjoyed it whenever she cuddled him warmly, bringing him up close to the warmth of her bosom. There was always that special fragrance, whenever he managed to work his mouth up into the crevice of those huge mounds.
He especially liked the way she would plant kiss after kiss on his face, some of them falling directly on his lips. She would understand about his nosebleeds. She would call him her darling little boy; but never a sissy, as the other kids did.
Up the stairway, down the hallway, he heard his mother first laugh and then giggle, and then a strange unidentifiable sound. Moving steadily toward the bedroom, he stopped short, hearing the sounds of a man. Not his father, he knew his father didn't make such sounds ... this was a different man ... a stranger ... but not a stranger to his mother.
The boy had edged slowly toward the opened bedroom door, cringing along the wall. His young mind told him that maybe he would have to defend his Mommy from "some sort of a beast of a wild man." He would be very quiet, and discover what he would have to do to rescue his Mommy. He peered through the crack in the door, wondering at first why the man was so naked. And his Mommy, she was wearing one of those silky things, a negligee. Wide-eyed, he wondered what she was doing kneeling between his spread-out legs, that tremendously big thing in her mouth.
Her mouth ... it was going up and down on that big hard thing, making strange slobbering sounds. He watched her, the way her hands were about that man's midsection, seemingly pumping him upward every time her mouth thrust downward.
Those sounds ... coming from him ... coming from her. And then he heard the man, loud and clear:
"Oh, you wild cocksucker!"
On wobbly legs, he found his way back downstairs and out of the house. Somewhere along the way, before his favorite spot in the playground, he stopped long enough to vomit on the curb. He let it all out until he shuddered convulsively.
"Why is my darling little boy home so late from school?" was all she asked, hugging and kissing him. "Dinner is almost ready and I made you a very special dessert. Now go wash your hands like a good boy."
John Pilsner bounced off the edge of his desk, impatiently checking his wristwatch, wondering how long that idiotic girl out there would take to type such a simple letter. And then she'd probably have a number of errors, he told himself.
Thank heaven, Martha would be back and handle all the bothersome details. For a moment he entertained the thought of letting the letter go until the morning. No, it was much too important, he wanted to be on record as soon as possible in the matter.
He'd wait to put his signature on it and place it in the mail chute himself. After all, his date was waiting for him.
"His date...." He still could not fully comprehend the meaning of it. It wouldn't be a cheap affair, he'd make certain of that. He had to go through with it, he was certain of that. Or ... possibly face a repetition of what had happened a while back ... that horrible episode ... while parked on a dirt road.
His high-beam lights had instantly picked up the tall form of the hitch-hiker. "Probably a local boy," he had told himself, breaking to a stop to pick him up.
"I'm only going as far as the country club," he smiled at the boy, instantly noticing that he wasn't much older than his son, Timmy. "Will that help?"
"It sure will!" the boy beamed, slumping back in his seat and widely angling his lean legs. "I'm tired of walking."
"Well, you've got long enough legs for it," John replied, his eyes going to the bulge at the crotch of the boy's skin-tight dungarees.
"Yeah, I'm big for my age," the boy replied, seemingly winking over at John.
The boy's flippancy irritated John. What right had he to assume that John was interested in him sexually? After all, that was clearly his intimation. Or, was it? John began to doubt himself. Maybe the boy hadn't really meant that at all. "Maybe," John thought, "I'm really just an old faggot."
Every time John's frustrations gave way to such doubts, images of his son, Timmy, came to mind-Timmy playing ball, Timmy winning his first swimming meet. These visions of his son were not sexually arousing. They were a way he had of making himself feel guilty.
"You live in town?" John asked, yanking his eyes away from the boy's crotch area, and fixing his gaze straight ahead on the seemingly traffic-less road.
"Just sort of temporary," the boy replied, purposely evasive. "I might be heading for New York pretty soon-if I can scrape up enough money."
"Do you have a job?" John asked, annoyed with himself that his eyes kept continually returning to the boy's long legs and that bulging area at his crotch. Why? Why, he asked himself over and over again. He was a normal person, a married man with a teenaged son. So why was he getting so excited sneaking glances over in the semi-darkness of the front seat at this boy's crotch.
And why did this boy have to wear those dungarees so damned tight-it was disgusting. No, it wasn't ... or he wouldn't be continually glancing over at the beautiful sight.
"Not anything of a real steady job," the boy replied, suddenly bringing his hand down to his crotch, seemingly to readjust the bulge. "I just sort of make out the best I can," he smiled, stretching his legs further apart.
"And how do you do that?" John asked, now flustered by the lanky leg ever so close to his.
"You're putting me on, man!" the boy laughed, now rubbing his bulging crotch. "Let's just say I'm very cooperative when certain guys want their kicks. You know what I mean?"
John Pilsner fixed his sights on the road before him, after all those years, the image of his mother kneeling between that hairy man's legs, her mouth slobbering up and down on that enormous phallus. Those words from that grunting and groaning animal of a man: "Oh, you wild cocksucker!"
John Pilsner's hands froze to the wheel. "We're almost to the country club," he nervously started. "Do you want me to drop you off anywhere special around here?"
"Wow, I've got a real hard-on!" the boy blurted, rubbing the bulge furiously. "How about you?"
"Me?"
"Yeah ... " the boy snickered, brazenly unzipping his fly. "You wanna feel how hard my cock is?"
"I-I
"Give it a feel," the boy cut in, tugging the throbbing cock out of his skintight dungarees. "It won't bite you."
"I don't know..." John had trembled, his hand reaching over to grasp the lava-hot throbbing prick. "I don't know..." he dumbly repeated, suddenly stroking it back and forth, his mind flashing a neon, that man's description of his mother: "Oh, you wild cocksucker!"
"Hey, mister! Watch the road!" the boy cried out, as John was swerving over into the other lane. "You wanna get us killed?"
John drew his hand back quickly, steering the automobile quickly back to his own lane moments before an oncoming car approached them.
"Wow, that was close," the boy whistled. "Hey, you can cut off on that dirt road up ahead if you want to do me! I get twenty bucks-and I promise I won't rush you."
"Yes ... " John Pilsner found himself uttering over and over again as he turned like a robot down the dusty dirt road. "Yes ... yes ... yes...
"Mr. Pilsner? The letter's ready for your signature."
"Oh-" Startled, he made the trip back to the present, eyes fixed on the young girl exposing so much of her legs. He watched her glide toward him, letter in hand. Now what was her name? Why couldn't he remember it ... oh, yes, Valerie.
"Thank you, Valerie," he managed a smile, adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses, ready to inspect her work.
"Is it all right?" she asked nervously.
"Why it's perfect, Valerie," he smiled, quite surprised to find her work so professional.
"Is the envelope ready?"
"Yes sir. If that will be all, I'll be happy to mail it for you on my way home. I take the bus right by the main post office."
"Well, thank you," he beamed, looking up from placing his signature on the official statement. "I'd appreciate that. And thank you for staying late. Don't forget to put a voucher in for your overtime."
He watched the girl nervously nod her goodbye and retreat out of his office. "Poor girl ... " he inwardly murmured, "maybe she thought I was going to make a pass...."
Damned women ... he reflected. If you do make a pass-they scream bloody rape. If you don't-they're hurt, and think something is drastically wrong with you.
Well, whether or not he had disappointed the girl, he didn't really give a damn. But he was deeply concerned that something might really be drastically wrong with him. But why now? After all these years? A psychiatrist-maybe he should seek professional help?
Tonight's date ... this could be the answer to straighten out a number of things that seemed to be troubling him lately. This wouldn't be a cheap, vulgar affair. The trysting spot was all set up, a plush suite of rooms at the Spangler Arms Hotel, his date was waiting for him there.
He grabbed his hat and headed for the door. He stopped short, the image of that young boy sitting on the front seat of his car coming clearly into focus. The movie was running again, seemingly in double-time. Those tight dungarees were down at his ankles in no time, and then his jockey shorts, tugged downward so quickly, so expertly. The boy's first words: "Take it, balls and all, mister!"
Strange ... he didn't even know the boy's name ... not that it really mattered. What mattered was that somewhere in this world a living, breathing human being was totally in on a dark, perverted little corner of his life.
Once again, John Pilsner asked himself the question he had asked himself so many times since that sordid affair on the front seat of his car on a dirt road.
What made him do it?
No ... not the physical act of bringing his mouth down over that throbbing projection of young muscle and flesh. Somewhere, somehow, he could possibly find a logical answer for that. And his life could still go on a fairly normal routine.
What made him do it? What obsessed him? Why had he suddenly started begging the boy: "Call me a wild cocksucker! Please, I want to hear it! Over and over again, while I do it! Oh, please, a wild cocksucker. Say it over and over and I'll give you an extra ten dollars!"
"Shit, yeah-for a ten-spot! Eat it-you wild cocksucker!"
John forced the rerun in his mind to grind through a halt. His date ... clean and fine ... no need for vulgar screechings. He hurried out of his office, racing to meet the date he had met in that bar the other night. In a matter of minutes, Junior Traymore would welcome him with open, loving arms.
CHAPTER SIX
RAUNCHY RENDEZVOUS
Lisa fixed her eyes on the bronzed number seven on the door. She forced a slight smile at the irony of the supposedly lucky number. She brought her white-gloved hand up to knock on it. The fisted hand remained in midair, she couldn't quite make it.
She glanced furtively about, certain all eyes were upon her. Her gaze moved slightly upward to the flickering neon: The Alma Motel. She watched it flicker on and off in time with the smaller sign beneath it: Vacancy. She remained there, certain it was hypnotizing her. Maybe then she would be able to go through with it. This was certainly a "big first" for her. She swayed uneasily. She could just hear the gossip: well-known corporation lawyer's wife seen sneaking into cabin seven of the Alma Motel!
Standing there, her thoughts turned more and more to John, sensing she did not want to bring ruin and disgrace to him. Maybe he was a cold fish in bed-but he was good to her in so many other ways.
Last night ... it must have been quite a bit after midnight when he sneaked into their bedroom. He seemed to be going out of his way to be as noiseless as possible. And when she opened her eyes, moving about, when he gave her the customary peck of a kiss on the cheek ... she was certain she smelled a delicate perfume. She now strained to recall that obviously expensive scent. As sleepy as she was, she was reasonably certain that it was not her husband's after shave lotion-which was all he used-but a decidedly feminine scent.
Lisa pulled herself together, realizing that her fisted hand was still poised to rap on the door. Now she was imagining that her husband was running around with some other woman. How ridiculous! John was too straight and narrow for that sort of thing. Obviously their once-a-week-very-routine sexual evening was more than enough to keep him satisfied. She remembered John saying that he had a business get-together at the country club.
Most likely, someone's wife had brushed up close to him. John had long ago given up on asking Lisa to accompany him on those half-business-half-social get-togethers. It just wasn't her proverbial cup-of-tea.
Lisa cringed, watching a man and woman emerge from a cabin a few doors down. The man had that furtive look about him. The voluptuous blonde had that very smug, totally satisfied expression on her face. It seemed to be saying, "Now that my lover has shown me a wild time-I don't mind going home to my ho-hum dull husband."
"Knock," she whispered to herself, forcing herself to believe that she had taken the right course. This, she assured herself, was obviously the lesser of two evils. And, she was forced to admit to herself-no doubt the better of two pleasures.
She had not slept well that night, and her entire day had been deeply troubled. She knew she couldn't keep that appointment with Charley Soma-she just could't bring herself to do it.
She was through wrestling with the decision at three that afternoon. That was the exact time that she had called Tony Mondor, tearfully explaining Charley Soma's phone call.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head," Tony had beamed over the phone. "You won't have to go to his place. I'll see to that."
Long before this she had learned that almost everything in this world has a price tag on it. Well, she didn't have to go to Charley Soma's apartment-but she did have to meet Tony here at the motel.
Lisa bit at her lower lip, smoothing out the pale blue sheath she wore. She adjusted the fur piece draped regally about her shoulders. She faced a moment of truth: she wanted to see Tony. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but they had so much in common. She had sensed that during their wild sexual spree in the confines of his private office the day before. It was as though ... they were both on the same path in search of something. What that something-she could not quite comprehend at that moment. She was certain of one thing. Tony Mondor could easily drum up all the "Forbidden Fruit" thrills she would ever need. She was reasonably certain that the word was sublimation. With Tony, she could sexually sublimate her desire to go out on shoplifting sprees.
"He'll make me pay ... " she inwardly murmured, steeling herself for a grand entrance. She realized that Tony had a sadistic way of making a person pay for their sin-with more and wilder sins.
"He'll make me pay.,..." she softly repeated, thinking back to that morning, only seconds after her husband had left the house. In fact, while her husband was still backing his car out of the driveway. She had gone back upstairs to her room, wanting to rest a while, to put off her decision on Charley Soma. Timmy was waiting for her in her bedroom, only a bath towel draped about his midsection. A bath towel that could not possibly stay down in place with the hardness of his eager cock jutting upward.
"Oh, Timmy, no ... we've got to blot that out of our lives...."
"I can't-and I don't want to," the boy had informed her, moving in on her. "I just don't want to...." he repeated, taking her in his arms, his lips instantly pressing hers.
Not another word was necessary as he carefully laid her out on the bed, expertly parting her bathrobe and negligee. Each time she mustered the strength to try to reason with him that this could not go on forever-his lips pressed against hers before she could mouth the words.
They had made it together again. The boy pistoning her furiously with his slim-jim cock, while as though in a dream, she automatically gyrated her hips up to meet him each time. The signal was silent, they erupted and flooded together.
Smiling, he had given her a farewell kiss before rushing off to his room to get ready for school.
"S'long, Mom!" he had called out as he dashed down the stairway on the first phase of his trip to school. Just like that ... ever so normal.... "S'long, Mom!"
There was a very ugly word for what she had introduced her son to. She had no right leading him into it. Soon enough, he would have encountered a more-than-willing teenaged girl, and it would have happened totally in the norm.
Lisa knocked firmly on door number seven, totally convinced that Tony Mondor would make her pay for her most mortal sin, along with a few of her venial sins. She repeated the steady barrage of knocks, seemingly impatient to get Tony Mondor's special brand of sexual punishment underway.
"Well, hello!" Tony beamed, opening the door for her. "You're right on time, Doll-baby! I like that in a female-I really like that...."
Lisa silently moved into the room, tried not to concentrate on the totally commercial aspects of the moderately priced motel unit. Her eyes went over to the bathroom door, and she hoped that she could at least undress in there.
"Could I use the bathroom-"
"What's your rush, baby? Let's have a little drink first," he shrugged, pointing to the bottle of scotch on the dresser.
"I-I don't feel like drinking-"
"What do you feel like?" He teased, moving in on her, his thighs instantly brushing up against the formfitting sheath. "Hey-hey," he went on, not waiting for her reply. "I know I like what I feel here! Oh, yes, indeed!" he stressed, working the flat of his hands up to the luscious high rise of her breasts. "Baby, I really enjoy the way your knockers really point at a guy. I don't know why you bother to wear a bra-you sure as hell don't need one!"
"May I at least get undressed in the bathroom?"
"You're in such a hurry ... and you're so formal. I mean, after yesterday afternoon, you could say we were pretty well acquainted." He grinned lewdly, his hands pressing inward on her breasts, his face moving into the narrow valley. "Sooner or later, Baby, I've just got to fuck you between the tits! Just press them real tight together and make a fantastic hairless pussy for my cock."
"I don't care," she repbed in a tired voice. "You can do whatever you want. But I'm warning you-it had better be today....because there won't be a next time. Not ever," she stressed, feeling his outline of hard cock banging up into the V of her thighs. "Not ever again-do you understand that?"
"Honey, I gave you my word," she feigned his honest intentions. "This is our very last fling. Then we're paid up in full." Managing to remove his right hand from her breast he raised it upward. "I give you my solemn word. This-is our farewell party. Now let me work that zipper all the way down, and then I want to see you really squirm out of that outfit," he droned on, taking her furpiece and tossing it over a chair.
"The last time ... " she whimpered, slipping out of the dress and stepping out of it.
"The very last-"
"That you'll never forget," he stressed, taking her dress and tossing it over the back of the chair. "Oh, Baby, stand back and let me look at you while you peel off everything. Honey, give me a real fine show!"
"The very last time ... " Lisa repeated, purposely undoing the clasp of her bra.
"I've always been curious," he smugly started, exaggerating the rubbing of the outline of hard meat down the thigh-portion of his trousers. "Why do you girls always remove your bras before your panties? Why not the other way around?"
Lisa hurried with her appointed chore, not bothering to give him an answer.
"Oh, that's very nice," he beamed, examining the final nude condition. "Oh, very nice indeed!" Suddenly, he seemed to be peering behind her. "Wouldn't you agree with me, Charley and Shirley?"
"Oh, no-" Lisa spun around quickly, foolishly placing her hands over the V of her thighs, covering the flaming red-haired bush at her love-slit.
"Very-very nice, Indeed!" Charley Soma lewdly gasped, standing at the now opened bathroom door. "She's as fantastic as you said she was," he went on, standing there in his shorts and a T-shirt.
"How about you, Shirley?" Tony asked the solidly budt woman standing alongside Charley. "Do you approve of our society-broad-beauty!"
"I dig a red-haired snatch!" the chunky woman gasped, her eyes seemingly boring holes right through Lisa. "I can't wait to get my bps on that!"
Lisa studied the obvious bull dyke-type female, clad only in her slip, girdle and bra. That short-cropped grayish hair ... Lisa realized that this was the female security guard who had assisted Charley Soma in stopping and searching her.
"Say hello to Shirley," Tony beamed. "But don't expect any help from her," he laughed, "she might even be greedier for your body than us guys."
"You bastard!" Lisa fixed her hands on her hips, glaring squarely at Tony Mondor. "You tricked me!"
"I like what I see when you're really mad!" he countered. "This could really be a wild ball!"
"You tricked me, you bastard!
"Now, baby ... is that anyway for a high-classed society broad to be talking. I merely asked you to meet me here at the motel in good old lucky number seven. I just forgot to mention that a couple of my fellow employees and dear friends might just happen to come along for the ride.
"Let's cut the talk and start the action," Charley cried out, tugging down his shorts and letting his thick reel of hard cock bob up directly before her. "I'd love to find out if she's just half as great a cocksucker as you said she was.
"No ... no...." Lisa whimpered, her eyes on Charley's pulsating prick. Maybe it wasn't as long as Tony's meat, but the head of it was so unbelievably enormous. "No!" she jumped, feeling Shirley's hot breath fall on her back as her greedy hands closed in on her love-mound.
"Hey, don't rush the little lady," Tony informed them, starting to casually undress himself. "Now back off and give her a chance to get into it. So take off the rest of your clothes, the two of you."
Lisa stood there, trapped. Animals about her-in front of her-behind her-to her side. Animals ... but animals don't have clothes to remove....She watched them, trying desperately to control her heavy breathing. She watched the final garment being removed and calmed herself.
They would all make her pay ... Tony Mondor and company. She had it coming to-so she'd go into it full swing. Anything, she told herself, anything at all. For this would absolutely be the last time.
"Okay, Tony...." she managed a smile, eyes fixed on his rock-hard cock seemingly saluting her. "You win again. But let me warn you ... this is the last time."
"Baby, I told-"
"And I'll just face the consequences if you do try it again." She hesitated. "Or I might just...." She let it hang there, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of telling him that she would seriously contemplate suicide as a way out if he continued to blackmail her into these sordid affairs.
"Hey, Tony?" Charley impatiently cried out, now furiously stroking his cast-iron cock. "Get her to go down on me! Man, I'm about to explode!"
"Sure, why not!" Lisa suddenly reeled about, standing directly before Charley Soma. "But I don't need him to pull my puppet strings!" She waved her hair wildly backward, instantly dropping down on her knees. "Just put in your own order." Savagely, she worked her hands about Charley's thighs, bringing her face up close to that enormous purplish head. "You want a blow-job? One blow-job coming up!" she insanely yelled, her mouth widening and madly careening down over that massive head. Downward, she slobbered, past that massive head down along the hard shaft until her chin banged against his balls. She looked up at
Charley. Her mouth too jam-packed for words, her expression seemed to be asking: "How am I doing? Am I as good a cocksucker as Tony bragged I was?
"Man!" Charley shrieked. "She is the greatest ever! I can feel the head of my cock down in her throat!"
"Go, girl, go!" Tony encouraged her. "Go to it!" he yelled, dropping down on his knees and savagely ramming his hand up the crack of her ass. "Slobber up that cock!" he yelled, working first one finger, then two, and finally three up the crack of her ass.
Lisa obeyed, working her mouth furiously up and down, her tongue flicking to and fro as she did. Mouth so damned jam-packed with cock, she could not scream out her pain as Tony's fingers played havoc with her tight ass-hole. It was better that way, she told herself. This way, she would have to endure it.
"Oh, baby! Tony purred in her ear. "In just a little while you will have an ass-hole full of cock-just like you got a big mouthful of hot prick!"
"Oh, let me at that red-haired snatch!" Shirley cried out, suddenly belly-whopping on the floor, sliding between Charley's outstretched legs to bury her face in Lisa's love mound. "Let me tongue that delicious delight," the chunky bull dyke squealed. "First, we shall part it nice and pretty...." she announced, her fingers doing the work. "Now we shall go for our first taste-"
Lisa stopped short, her mouth halfway down over Charley's cock, the huge head seemingly choking her. She wanted to cry out, but could not, experienced for the first time in her life a tongue actually running up and down the length of her pussy. Man or woman-at that precise moment of pain-pleasure, it did not matter. What mattered was that it was a totally new thrill, and it was doing strange things to her.
"Don't stop now!" Charley cried out, shoving her head downward, pinning her down on his ramrod prick. "Oh, don't ever stop that fantastic cocksucking action!"
"Just be ready for me," Tony whispered in her ear, the head of his cock now impatiently banging at the start of her ass-hole. "In just a moment, the fingers are coming out-and you're getting my cock as' a replacement. How does that grab you, baby?"
Lisa worked savagely on Charley's cock, a strange conglomeration of fingers working at the inner reaches of her thighs and up around the crack of her ass. Some of the fingers belonged to Tony, while the others obviously belonged to Shirley. Male or female finger-they were all playing havoc with her human sexuality.
That tongue ... Lisa could not possibly comprehend how that woman could work it all the way up into her snatch. Strange ... it almost felt like a cock-but a very special cock. Lisa tightened her mouth-grip on Charley's task each and every time that fantastically-skilled tongue scorched all the way up into the very core of her.
Was this really happening to her? It all seemed so vague ... two men ... and a woman. That woman working her tongue so furiously within her snatch, wreaking havoc on the sensitive tip of her clitoris ... those weird sounds coming from deep within her throat. There was a name for such a woman-a name that Lisa had rarely ever thought about so far in her life.
A lesbian ... that was the kindest word to describe this type of woman. There were other terms, some extremely cruel.
Lisa rocked to and fro, that woman's tongue bringing an unbelievable measure of sheer thrills to her. It all seemed to be revolving about her. She would work her mouth down furiously over that length of fat cock. Then she would feel that female tongue darting wildly up into her love-slit. She would rock backward, only to feel the head of Tony's cock about to enter her ass-hole.
Oh, that tongue ... Lisa wanted to scream, if only her mouth wasn't so jammed up with throbbing meat. This would certainly be a thrill she would want to experience again. Of this, she was certain.
Lisa slowed her mouth-to-cock action, a thought suddenly racing across her mind. This woman flat on her stomach-eating out her pussy ... Lisa thought of the word to describe her....
Lesbian ... But if she was enjoying being on the receiving end of it so much-wasn't there something of the lesbian within her?
"Oh, don't stop, baby!" Charley growled, savagely shoving her head down over his cock. "Keep it going, cocksucker!" he-roared, feeling the head of his cock slam into her throat again. "Oh, that's more like it!"
Lisa returned to her full level of cocksucking, taking the pleasure of that tongue up her pussy as it came. Why worry about fine distinctions, she told herself, suddenly realizing that in the game of human sexuality there could really be no fine and definite boundary lines. Those very specific distinctions were well and good in drawing room discussion-but when it came to four nude animal beings in a motel room, they couldn't possibly apply.
"Take hold," Tony grunted, warning her, suddenly lunging forward and jamming the start of his cock up her ass-hole. "Oh, man, what a tight ass-hole!"
Lisa thought the pain would split her down the middle. Why doesn't he stop? For just a moment, she inwardly pleaded, unable to mouth her plea.
"All the way home--! " he roared, pistoning the full length of his cock all the way up within her anus. "Oh, wow, is it ever a tight fit!"
"Harder on that cock!" Charley begged her, his hands now cupped about the back of her head. "Don't stop now, baby. "Because it won't be long before I reward you with a big hot load of love-juice!"
"Oh, let me give it to you good ol' doggie style!" Tony roared, starting a steady crescendo of cock to ass-hole thrusts, each one seemingly dedicated to the hope of tearing her apart.
Oh, but that tongue ... Lisa felt it going beautifully on its way, bringing her precariously close to erupting her love-juice into the woman's mouth.
It was happening ... in three different ways ... totally bewildering Lisa. She hung on, knowing that explosions were about to take place-all the way around. Then possibly ... reason might once again prevail.
But in the meantime, it seemed to be going on forever and ever:
That cock bobbing in and out of her mouth.
That tongue gliding in and out of her cunt. That cock banging in and out of her ass-hole.
Lisa hung on ... that was about all she could...
But oh, that tongue...
CHAPTER SEVEN
FUCKING FOURSOME
"No more . .. no more...." Lisa moaned, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying desperately to get that motel room to stay still. Why, she asked herself, why did that room persist in continually revolving around her aching frame?
"Oh, no, more..." she attempted to lift one leg up, but failed. Her arms-they felt like lead. And her back, every muscle and sinew ached and pained her. She did manage to move her fingers, running them alongside her body. She determined that she was lying flat on her back. A faint smile crossed her lips, realizing that she was on the bed. That unbelievable round-robin of constant sex, it had taken place just about everywhere but on the bed.
The room was mercifully stopping its movement, and her head started to clear. Her eyes still tightly closed, she still determined that she was alone in bed. Now she wondered if it were all over-or was this merely a lull in the sexual war games?
That tongue . . .The tongue of a lesbian ... Lisa tensed her entire body, recalling vividly how that woman had rocked her into the wildest explosion; how she had greedily slurped and sucked and moaned and groaned to feast on every last drop of her love-juice.
That unbelievable chain-reaction ... With her love-juices pouring out of her, her mouth had gone wild on Charley's prick, his thick stuff flooding her mouth. And Tony seemingly went berserk behind her, thrusting his cock-to-ass-hole action to the hilt.
"I'm coming-I'm coming!" The men roared continually.
The women-their mouths much to engrossed-could only grunt and groan their crowning moments.
"I want to go home..." Lisa whimpered, partially opening her eyes and managing to raise her head slightly off the pillow.
"Relax, baby, just relax," she heard Charley's voice purring. "Tony will be right back."
"What's going on?" Lisa blurted out, instantly realizing the foolishness of her statement.
"Just about everything did, baby!" Charley replied. "And you were the star of it all.
"Where-where's everybody else?" Lisa asked, her suspicions mounting. She lifted herself up on her elbows to take in Charley sitting in the easy chair at the foot of the bed. He was now wearing his shorts, but his spend cock-with that enormous, purplish head-sticking out of the fly. "Where did they go?" she repeated, that smug look on his face worrying her.
"Hey, don't tell me you're ready to again!" Charley chuckled, bringing his hand down over his spent reel of meat. "Old Oscar here needs a little time to recoup."
"Where's Tony?" Lisa asked, pushing herself further up on the bed, realizing how sweaty her entire nude frame was. "And that woman? Where is she?"
"I think you really dug the way Shirley ate your pussy out! She's quite good at that. Sorry to say that you won't get a second-time around from Shirley-"
"What are you talking about?"
"Shirley has a very jealous lover at home. A pretty young girl in her early twenties-and Shirley has to be home by a certain time-or there's hell to pay!"
"What did you mean, second time around?" Lisa wanted to know, wondering what else could possibly take place in one night in one motel room. "Answer me! Tony said this was to be the only time-"
"Tonight, baby," Charley shrugged, getting on his feet, his spent cock still protruding through the fly of his shorts. "But the night is still far from over. "Listen, just relax, huh....Tony had to take Shirley home ... " He purposely paused, a lewd grin crossing his face. "And then he had to pick up some little friends of his. It may not exactly be your cup of tea, but then again, you might really dig the scene."
"What are you talking about?" Lisa strained, managing now to sit up on the bed, her hands crossed over her love-mound.
"Oh, don't cover that beautiful snatch," he implored. "Just looking at it-my rod will get hard again in no time. I'd kin da like to throw you a fast fuck before they get back-"
"They?"
"Relax, baby, relax ... " Charley purred, now hovering over the side of the bed, his hand running up the length of one leg. "Oh, I love the sight of a red-haired cunt-"
"Who is Tony bringing?" Lisa's voice demanded to know. "How far can this madness go?"
"What madness?" Charley chuckled, his fingers now playing about her bush of red hair heavily matted with sweat, spit and semen. "It's all fun and games. We're just having a ball. Haven't you heard? Sex is supposed to be fun!"
Lisa closed her eyes, realizing she could not stop Charley's fingers toying with her snatch. But she did not want to watch it.
Sex is supposed to be fun ... the phrase ran continually through her mind. Until yesterday afternoon, sex had always been a very frightening, sometimes even dirty word, other than that in the norm with one's husband.
The norm ... what had exploded into reality within those four walls about her was certainly far from the normal. Until now, they were distant scientific terms, seemingly used by psychiatrists to describe sick and perverted people. Her mind recreated the mental image of the action that had taken place in that room, that very night. She had been furiously working her mouth up and down on Charley's cock-while that woman's tongue slithered about within her pussy-and Tony's cock thundered in and out of her ass-hole.
Lisa's mind methodically boiled it all down to the scientific terms applied by those so-called sexual experts.
Fellatio....
Cunnihngus....
Analcostus....
"So cut and dried ... " she inwardly murmured, squirming under the touch of Charley's fingers starting to explore her vagina. But in a motel room with three clawing animal types, it just isn't so cut and dried as fellatio, cunnilingus and anal coitus In a motel room it has its own way of hitting rock-bottom-the gutter. And she had to admit to herself that she had been caught up in the perverted fury of it all. While it was happening, she was no better than Tony, Charley or that woman with the highly educated tongue. No, in that motel room, the scientific terms did not apply.
"Oh, don't-" she groaned, feeling two of his fingers jab deeply into her love-slit. In polite circles, Lisa told herself, what Charley was doing might very well be termed sexual foreplay. But in that motel room, it wasn't so polite. Face it, girl, she told herself, biting her lower lip. This big ape is fingering your cunt! That's what he's doing, girl-he's fingering the living shit out of your snatch! That's the way it is, she shrugged, and what went on before with a full house of sexual participants was down-to-the-gutter cocksucking, cunt-lapping and ass-hole-fucking!
That's what it was all about-and that trio had surely managed to bring her down to their level. Stop kidding yourself, girl, she inwardly leveled with herself. "You were in on all that damn perverted cocksucking, cunt-lapping and ass-hole-fucking-and you really got caught up in it. Maybe you weren't a willing beginner-but you sure as hell were more than willing once it got underway. Her mouth slobbering on cock-her ass-hole jam-packed with throbbing prick-her cunt royally treated to that woman's tongue-she loved every bit of it; she had to stop lying to herself.
Punishment?
Punishment for what she had lead her son into? Sure, but that was the brand of punishment she would be more than willing to take from here on in.
"Hey, easy-" she gasped, yanked out of her thoughts by the fact that Charley was actually trying to shove his whole fist up her snatch. "What the hell you trying to do to me?"
"Look what the hell you've done to me!" Charley roared, plopping all those fingers out of her snatch and grabbing his cast-iron cock. "Hey, old Oscar is ready to ride again!" he yelled, aiming that enormously thick head of purplish meat in the direction of her love-mound. "Shit, we might just as well fuck up a storm until they get back," he matter-of-factly informed her, roughly bringing his knees down on the edge of the bed. "Bring that snatch over here and I'll fuck the living shit out of it!"
"Easy' does it-" she tried to hold back his attack. "You're too damned rough!"
"Whatsa matter, society-broad? Are you too damned good for me? If my cock was good enough for your mouth-it sure as hell is good enough .for your cunt! Now spread those legs real wide and let's get at some good old-fashioned screwing!"
"Wait a moment, damn you!" Lisa roared back, feeling the head of his cock impatiently bang at the start of her flaming snatch. "Okay, okay ... you want to have sex-"
"Fuck!" he interrupted. "That's what I want to do until they get here! Lady, I wanna fuck you!" he roared, moving savagely into the opened V area of her thighs. "Have sex-is for society folks," he lewdly chuckled.
"Okay!" she yelled, holding him back. "Fuck it is!" she roared, telling herself that if the night was actually far from over for her-since Tony seemed to be out finding more sexual participants-she would get the ultimate out of it. She would play out a number of things the darkest reaches of her mind had only fantasied so far in her seemingly straight-and-narrow life. "I'm more than ready to fuck-"
"Then let's get at it-" Charley countered, one hand guiding his cock toward her moist slit, the other hand sneaking up under her ass-hole. "Let's fuck up a storm!"
"My way!" she yelled, pushing him backward. "My way!"
"Your way?" he dumbly questioned, straining the workings of his brain to understand what was happening to this woman before his very eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Just lie flat on your back ... " she whimpered, "and let that cock stand up like a flagpole..." she went on, wondering if that was really her mouthing those brazen commands. It was her all right-she knew that was a certainty, and her boldness grew. "And then, mister, I'll work my cunt up and down over your meat! How does that sound to you?"
"Man, that's wild," he groaned, watching her get up on her knees, signaling him to lie flat on his back. "You're a barrel of surprises," he moaned, obediently flattening his back on the rumpled bedsheets and spreading his legs widely apart. "Where'n the hell did a regular broad like you learn about this kind of fucking?"
"There's a first time for everything," she informed him, her hands prying his legs even further apart. "Now first I'll lubricate that flagpole-meat of yours with a little spit," she went on, quickly running her opened mouth over the straightforward jutting head, moistening it thoroughly with her spit.
"Oh, man, I'm already about to explode!"
"Hang on," she calmly replied, wiping her bps with the back of her hand. "I think I'm suddenly in the mood to lower my cunt over your cock a few million times."
"You sure you've never done it this way before?" he asked, watching the well-defined female straddle him, widening her snatch area directly above the upward jut of his cock. "You sure as hell look like you know what your doing."
"Instinct," she smugly replied, her fingers prying the lips of her cunt apart, preparing to lower the gap over that enormous cockhead. "Pure instinct...."
Lisa recalled the times she had masturbated, using either fingers, bananas, cucumbers-and yes, once even a flashlight-with her eyes fixed on those certain photos from that Swedish marriage manual she had purchased. The one her doctor had actually recommended. Those certain photos with the descriptive passages in that scientific jargon ... The Female-Superior Positions In Coitus. Lisa attempted to recall how many years ago....Sometime fairly early in their marriage she had discussed going to a marriage expert or at least studying one of those manuals-anything to bring an added dimension to their marital bed.
John would have nothing to do with that "Lewd and dirty business." She then knew she could not show him the marriage manual she had already purchased, How often had she masturbated while watching those photos-especially The Female-superior Positions In Coitus? She couldn't possibly have an accurate count. Not that it really mattered. Expertly starting to work her pried-apart cunt over the cockhead, she tried to remember how long ago she had burned that manual and all the favorite photos she had torn out of it. So long ago ... it didn't really matter.
"Oh, man!" Charley roared, feeling her cunt expertly glide down his flagpole-positioned cock. "Oh, man, that's the greatest ever!" he roared, feeling her love-mound actually slam all the way down over his throbbing meat. "Man, you are the greatest ever! Fuck me, you hot bitch, fuck me!"
"Like riding a bicycle ... " she inwardly whispered. "Sooner or later, it all comes back to you ... even from the fantasy..."
"What are you saying?"
"Just stay deathly still-" she smugly informed him. "I'll do all the fucking there is to do around here."
"Real still. . . , " she cooed, riding her cunt upward, letting it linger over that thick head of his meat. "Real still ... " she repeated, tightening her grip underneath his hairy buttocks, her fingers digging into the flesh of his ass-hole. "Real still
"Oh, slam it down!" he roared, starting to squirm. "You're driving me crazy!"
"Stay still-" she warned him, digging her nails into his ass-hole. "I told you-I'll do all the fucking there is to do."
"Oh, man-" he trembled.
"How does it feel?" she asked. "Is the head of your cock on fire?"
"Oh, it sure as hell is..." he quivered.
"Now get ready, mister, because I'm going to give you some very expert 'Female-superior Positioning In Coitus'. "
"Huh-what the hell you talking about?"
"In short and sweet motel room talk-I am going to fuck the living shit out of you-"
And with that, she rammed her pussy savagely down the long length of hard cock, actually feeling her body thud against his balls. She drew a new measure of encouragement from that deep guttural cry that he managed to let out, and she pistoned her wide-open snatch furiously up and down the flagpole of living, breathing, on-fire cock.
"Oh, do it!" he finally managed to roar. "Oh, do it, you bitch! Drive me out of my fucking mind!"
That wouldn't take much, you stupid idiot ... she smugly told herself, brining her cunt-to-cock thrusts to a slow-walk to purposely tease him.
"Oh, don't stop-" he begged. "Oh, keep it going until I explode-"
"Like I told you, ' she smugly countered, "I'm in charge of the fucking around here, mister."
"Bravo!" she heard Tony Mondor's voice call out behind her. "Look at her swing into action," he added, playfully applauding her as he entered the room. She turned to watch him, her snatch safely over Charley's flag-poled meat.
"Oh, don't stop on our account," he shrugged. "The kids might really enjoy watching such a pro operate."
"The kids...."
"But what kids!" Tony countered, beckoning Tricia and Andy into the room, and quickly locking the door behind them. "You should watch them fuck! You could actually learn a thing or two from them!"
"But-but they're so young-" Lisa swayed, suddenly aware of the painful portion of hard cock jutting up into her slobbering cunt. "They're kids.... "
"Who love to fuck!" Tony gleefully concluded.
"Oh, wow!" the gangly, freckle-faced fifteen year old boy moaned, moving over closer to the bed. "I've never seen a broad over a guy bke that ... wow, you mean, she works her cunt up and down over his cock-instead of the other way around?"
"That's the way it goes, Andy-my-boy."
"Hey, tell her to do it," Andy implored Tony, the boy's hand instantly playing with the bulge of his skintight dungarees. "Wow, would I love to see that!"
"Yeah, me too!" Tricia chimed in, now standing directly behind her teenaged boyfriend. "She must be real experienced!" she added, her trembling hand suddenly swinging around to grope Andy's bulge.
Andy's bulge. "Well, c'mon, Lisa-baby...." Tony smugly shrugged. "You've heard about the need for sex education for youngsters. Why don't you give these kids a real education?" he chuckled, playfully patting her on the ass.
"Why not?" Lisa shrugged. "If this is the way you want it-might just as well live it up. But where did you find these kids-"
"What's the difference?" Tony cut her off. "Now give us a real show, Let's see if you really know how to fuck a cock."
"Yeah, do it," the lanky fifteen year-old boy pleaded, "I've never seen anything like this!"
"Neither has Timmy ... " she uttered softly. "Neither has he...."
"C'mon, girl!" Tony urged her, his hand caressing her buttocks. "Give us a real show."
"Please-" Charley begged. "I'm about to burst at the seams with that snatch over my cock!"
"Okay," Lisa tightlipped." I'll give the kids a real show," she informed Tony. She tugged Tricia's hand away from Andy's crotch to get a good feel of the boy's hardening cock through those tight dungarees. "Who knows-I might enjoy making this young thing my number two fucking spree."
"Like-crazy!" Andy beamed. "I've always wanted to find out what an older woman would be like."
"Hey, how about me?" Tricia pouted, tugging Lisa's hand away from the boy's bulging crotch and replacing it with hers. "Andy's supposed to be my date."
"Tricia-baby," Tony informed her by way of sticking a hand up under her miniskirt. "I've got a one-pound jar of vaseline handy to get your little snatch ready to take my cock-and if that's not enough to lubricate it, I'll get a case of the crap!"
"Sounds real groovy, Tony! But I think Andy did a pretty good job of opening me up a little more. You might not have to use as much vaseline as you think."
"I can hardly wait, Tricia-baby..." Tony moaned, his hand still playing search-and-thrill games underneath her mini.
"Dammit!" Tricia angrily roared. "Don't you ever call me baby again! I want to vomit every time Daddy calls me that! Baby-Tricia-Tricia-Baby-" she mimicked her father. "Well, I'm not a baby any more."
"Oh, I'll buy that-" Tony nodded, sliding fingers underneath her sheer little panties. "I'll buy a lot of that!"
"C'mon, fuck my cock!" Charley roared. "I can't stand it anymore-"
"Here goes-" Lisa tightened, spreading her thighs and suddenly gyrating her cunt wildly up and down over Charley's flag-poled meat. "Hey, watch me fuck a cock!" she roared, throwing all her inhibitions to the winds. "Watch me do a hang-up job-" she stressed, her fingers digging wildly into the crack of his ass. "This is called the female-superior position," she smugly informed Tricia and Andy. "And it sure as hell feels superior to be in charge of a cock," she groaned, not missing a beat of her maddening cunt-to-cock action. "Hey-hey, just look at me go!"
"Oh, wow!" Andy roared, pulling Tricia's hand away from his crotch to nervously unzip his fly. "My cock's about to tear through my pants!"
"Then whip it out!" Lisa wet her lips, the animal in her now totally in charge. "Hey, all of you-get the fuck out of your clothes or I'll stop the show!"
"Hey, hey..." Tony shook his head, "the monster within her has been unleashed...."
"Get those fucking clothes off-" she roared, pulling one hand away from Charley's ass-hole to get a quick feel of Andy's slim-jim hard cock at the very moment he managed to tug it out of those skintight dungarees. "Hey, this feels real good-" she wet her lips, her hand stroking Andy's beautifully circumcised cock.
"Just like his ... " she whispered, saliva dripping out of the corner of her lips as she thought of her son's eager, young cock. "Just like it.... "
"Well, you heard her-" Tony informed the youngsters while he hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt. "I think the lady's exact words were: get those fucking clothes off!"
"Shit-yeah!" the fifteen year old boy gleefully roared, quickly unbuckling his thick leather belt. It only took him seconds to fling his loafers across the room. like most boys that age, he wore no socks. In a matter of seconds, he was tugging downward on those formfitting dungarees.
"Oh, that's beautiful!" Lisa sighed, eyeing the boy's thin frame with the much too small jockey shorts clinging to them. "What a pretty picture," she added, still working her snatch up and down on Charley's cock. "Oh, yes," she wet her lips, appreciating the way his long hard cock protruded through the opening of his much too tight jockey shorts.
"I win!" Andy called out, playfully spreading his arms out, displaying his total nudity.
"I'm right behind you," Tony replied, working down to his socks and shorts. "Hey, Tricia, get at it!"
"Or we'll do it for you," Andy chuckled.
"I can take my own fucking clothes off, thank you," Tricia informed them, now down to her baby-blue bikini panties and junior bra.
Lisa thought it was all so natural, the way this girl swore. When she had been that age, she had thought of that word quite often, but was too frightened to ever use it.
Lisa suddenly stopped short, her pried-apart cunt entirely over that ramrod prick. Her eyes went directly to Tricia's lightly-haired snatch, just as the girl tugged down her panties.
"Hey, don't stop now-" Charley pleaded, groaning his urgency.
Speechless, Lisa's hand seemed to be moving totally on its own, on a very direct path to that moist little slit. Unable to stop herself, she worked a finger up and down the length of it-everyone watching her every movement.
"Oh, I'm almost ready to come!" Charley painfully groaned, grotesquely flat on his back in a spread-eagled position. "Oh, fuck me, you bitch!"
"Hey, Charley," Tony's voice teased. "You'll have to wait. It seems our Miss Society-broad has taken a sudden liking to Tricia's young cunt. Maybe she'll tongue it-just like Shirley did it to her."
"Go fuck yourself!" Lisa suddenly roared at Tony, quickly pulling her finger away from the tender young pussy. "Now everybody watch while I finish this cock off!" she yelled, trying desperately to get her mind off her strange desire to taste that young snatch. "Hey, watch me fuck," she repeated over and over again. "Just watch me fuck...." she sighed, pistoning her cunt furiously up and down the flag-poled prick. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..." she moaned, not wanting to think of the word or process or whatever of one woman's desire to suck another woman's pussy. And then-a young girl's snatch, at that.
"Wow-oh, wow!" Andy moaned, wide-eyed at the fantastic sight.
"Fuck-fuck-fuck!" Lisa cried out again and again, the animal within her really wanting to lewdly proclaim: Suck-suck-suck! Suck that young pussy!
"I'll be dead for a month," Charley announced, watching Lisa pull her cunt up off his totally-spent cock. "I ain't never had a woman fuck me like that-" he praised Lisa, slowly managing to roll off the bed and stand on wobbly feet. "I'll just be content to sit and watch for a while," he breathed heavily, walking uneasily to the chair and slumping down in it. "Oh, my poor aching cock...."
"One down-and how many more to go?" Tony asked Lisa, playfully patting her buttocks.
"What's the name of the next game, honey? You sure as hell won the right to call the shots."
"They're so pretty..." Lisa sighed, eyes traveling back and forth from Tricia and Andy. "I don't understand why I ... " she hesitated.
"Don't try to understand," Tony softly replied, his eyes meeting hers fully. "Enjoy-enjoy...."
"Yes ... " Lisa nodded, sensing a sincerity in Tony's voice for the very first time. "Yes..." she repeated, slowly arching her legs to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Enjoy-enjoy..." Tony repeated.
"Yes ... " Lisa kept nodding, her hands moving outward, one to cup Andy's beautifully low-slung balls that seemed to be almost hairless; while the other hand moved surely to Tricia's young pussy.
"Enjoy-enjoy..." Tony encouraged her, hovering over her, his hands firmly caressing the lushness of her breasts.
Lisa moved her left hand up from the boy's smooth balls to fully stroke that long, slim cock. Automatically, a finger of her right hand plied the full length of that fantastic young cunt. The finger probed a little deeper, working continually back and forth, seemingly in time with the groaning sound coming from the girl's throat. Lisa was forced to smile, a wild thought crossing her mind. She asked herself the ridiculous question: was there possibly a way that she might actually suck that young pussy and that slim-jim teenaged cock at the very same moment? Of course, she knew that she could quickly alternate: first tasting young cock, and then young pussy ... but it certainly wasn't possible to savor the two delights at the very same moment.
"Down on your knees," Tony ordered Lisa, his hand cupping the back of her head. "We'll just gather around and you can taste all the goodies!"
"I thought you said I could name the game?" Lisa smiled, gladly getting down on her knees.
"Sure, baby, sure ... but this will just help you decide," he beamed back at her.
"Why not?" Lisa shrugged, kneeling before a semi-circle of Tony and the two youngsters. "Nothing like tasting the merchandise first."
"Hey, lady, please suck my cock!" Andy cried out. "Tricia don't dig that scene.
"She will in time," Lisa knowingly replied, working one hand back and forth from Tony's mature cock to the boy's young meat. "All in good time," she moaned, enjoying the finger-work up and down the short length of your prick.
"C'mon, please suck my cock!" Andy brazenly continued. "I really dig that scene."
"Young ladies first," Lisa slyly replied, flicking her tongue out and moving directly toward that young love-mound. "I've just got to try this-or die!"
"Nobody wants you to die," Tony shrugged, pushing her head up even closer to the young girl's snatch-area. "Now work that tongue right up and down on that fantastic young snatch. You'll find that young snatch has a taste all its own-absolutely nothing like it."
Lisa nervously flicked her tongue quickly up and down the young love-slit, her groaning ecstasy instantly intermingling with the sound of glee coming from Tricia. Encouraged, Lisa squatted further down on her knees, directly before the shrine of young cunt. She brought her hands up behind the girl, hooking them into those lush young buttocks, instantly enjoying the feel of her delightfully young, almost hairless ass-hole. Lisa showed her appreciation by digging her tongue further and further into the very core of the young pussy.
"Oh, that feels so groovy-" Tricia tightened, almost automatically bringing her hands up to the back of the older woman's head. "Oh, so groovy!"
"Better than how I ate your pussy out?" Tony teased the girl, playfully running his hands over her hard-as-rocks budding breasts. "Which way do you dig it better?"
"Both great-" Tricia managed to groan, feeling that tongue searching within the very core of her.
"Wow, what a sight!" Andy cried out, suddenly stroking his slim-jim cock at a rapid rate.
"Hey, don't shoot yet," Tony warned him, pulling the boy's hand away from the hard tool. "Here, I,ll show you how to jerk that young cock off nice and easy," he beamed, taking the boy's cock in his hand.
"Let me jerk yours off," Andy replied, instantly taking Tony's enormously long and thick reel of cock in both of his hands. "Wow, that sure is a fantastically big hunk of meat!"
"You're getting there yourself, young man," Tony shrugged.
"Well, it looks like I'm going to have to do something about you two boys," Lisa shuddered, finally tearing her face away from Tricia's love-mound. "So who's first?"
"Why not together?" Tony asked. "Standing real close together, you squeeze the two cocks together-and you get a double-load of cock in your mouth, Honey!"
"Groovy!" Andy cried out. "Real groovy."
"Why not. . . " Lisa shrugged. "Why the hell not?" It would be like Andy stated it in the words of the now generation: "Groovy ... real groovy-" Going, back in time a little, she thought of another expression to cover the sexual spree about to swing into high gear:
Around and around she goes-and where she stops, nobody knows!
Lisa no longer really gave a damn. She was too busy trying to stuff a boy's cock and a man's prick in her mouth at the same time, while much to her surprise, Tricia was busily fingering her grownup pussy, seemingly intrigued with it.
Oh, that tongue ... that precious young tongue ... oh, how beautifully it slithered in and out of her moist pussy....
Lisa wanted to vocalize her gratitude-but she could hardly do that ... not while those two fantastic cocks-one boy, one man-were so beautifully parked within her mouth.
And those hands so firmly on her breasts-Charley was back in the game.
What did Andy say? "Groovy ... real groovy!"
Around and around she goes-and where she stops-nobody knows....
CHAPTER EIGHT
PSYCHIATRIST FOR A PERVERT
Tony suspiciously eyed Old Man Traymore slurping his scotch and soda. It was number six for the boss, Tony realized. He had been keeping score throughout lunch-a lunch that the Old Man barely touched. Tony sipped his Bloody Mary, his second one. Something kept telling him to keep a clear head, the Old Man had something very specific in mind-or why the hurriedly made lunch date?
"You're sipping that drink like an old lady," Clarence Traymore teased him, gulping down the remainder of his.
"I'm afraid I've got too much work to do this afternoon-"
"Can't you trust your assistant manager?" Clarence asked, giving Tony a poke on the arm. "That's very important in our business, you've got to be able to trust your assistants."
Tony braved it out with a fixed smile. "I have fine people at my store," he shrugged. "Anyway, your other stores are continually trying to raid my key personnel."
"That's very important," the middle-aged executive stressed, broadly gesturing for the waiter to bring him another drink. "A man must have complete confidence in his friends, allies and assistants-at all times."
Tony hid behind the process of nibbling at his lunch, suddenly not fully enjoying his eggs benedict. What was the Old Man trying to say? Was he merely rambling on in one of his many "rah-rah" office type generality speeches-or was he getting wise to "the group" trying to buy up enough stock to take control of the company?
Second-guessing the boss had always been a favorite pastime for Tony. He now attempted to put all the clues together, from the very moment he had called him, only minutes after he had arrived at work. It was as though the Old Man actually knew the precise time he was organized at his desk.
"Tony, Ol' boy, could you meet me for lunch at my club?" were his opening words. "I'd like to toss around a few ideas with you."
At my club.... A phrase that came quite naturally to Clarence Traymore and men of his stature. Tony thought back to the first time the Old Man had extended him that very privileged invitation. He had already been married to the boss's daughter for two years, working as an assistant manager, when the call finally came: "Tony ol' boy, meet me for lunch at my club ... I think I have some good news for you."
Tony kept nodding, half-listening to the man's steady stream of generalities. He glanced about the plush dining room for business men only-women only invited with escorts on weekends and special events-and once again he wondered why all these men seemed so at ease. They seemed "to belong." Tony asked himself the inevitable question. Was he the only imposter there? When he was a kid, growing up on the North Side, living in one cheap apartment after another, his father didn't exactly belong to a swank and very exclusive club for professional men. Tony bit his lower lip, reminding himself that a house-to-house fruit and vegetable peddler couldn't possibly qualify as a professional man.
"Get a hold of yourself. . . .You're here now, you at least have your foot inside the door. A few more big steps-yes, even if it means playing dirty-and you will be sitting here at lunch as though you really do belong.
Don't blow it ... Tony warned himself, toying about with the open napkin at his lower lip. The old man can't possibly know what is going on, he attempted to convince himself. He might have a hint of what's about to happen to him, Tony inwardly shrugged, but he couldn't possibly know that he had a key role in the potential upset.
Bring it to a head ... Tony thought, wondering if it wouldn't be wise to merely ask the Old Man what he had in mind, what was the specific purpose of asking him to have lunch with him-at my club.
Cool it ... he warned himself, not fully listening to the Old Man clattering on, his eyes drifting about the roomful of males only.
like recess ... Tony tried not to grin, realizing how badly he needed this hiatus from even the very sight of females. Tony's back and thighs still deliciously ached and throbbed from the night before. Oh, that lucky room number seven at the Alma Motel ... any more activity and that room might have secreted. Tony wet his parched lips, shifting uneasily about in his chair as he thought of that fantastic female named Lisa Pilsner. Once she blossomed-there had been no holding her back. Underneath the table, Tony adjusted his crotch area, quickly patting that exhausted meat of his. Watching the Old Man's mouth slobbering on his words of business generalities, Tony's mind recreated the beautiful image of Lisa's sensuous mouth and the many wonders it had created hour after hour. Clearly, he recalled the woman kneeling before Tricia-the old man's precious baby-Tricia-that tongue gliding so smoothly up and down that tasty young love-slit.
Tony felt signs of life changing the composition of his crotch area, his mind recreating the image of Lisa actually managing to take the two cocks in her mouth at once, greedily slurping to get every last ounce of throbbing meat. First Andy had shot his load down her throat, then he had followed suit. It was exactly the way those youngsters had continually repeated. "Groovy ... real groovy
Tony's thoughts went to the highlight of the evening in lucky room number seven, and beads of perspiration instantly formed on his forehead as he eyed Clarence Traymore. That morning at three minutes after nine, when his secretary had informed him that his first call of the day was from Mr. Traymore, Tony had experienced his first uneasy moment of the day. Tony knew only too well that the Old Man was almost neurotic about his attachment to his youngest child. If the old man knew....
Tony pulled himself together, attempting to convince himself that this line of thought was totally ridiculous. The Old Man might invite him to lunch at the club and play cat'n mouse with him over any level of business-but it would be entirely another matter if the Old Man knew what he had done to his precious Baby-Tricia last night. No ... Tony realized that if the Old Man knew about the nightlight production number in Room Seven-by now, he would most likely have pumped a revolver full of shells into his body.
A sense of safety returning to Tony, he kept up his game of half-listening to the Old Man; somehow nodding yes or no at the right times. Underneath the table, shrouded in safety by the tablecloth, he gave his slightly bulging crotch-area a very comforting hand-brushing.
Poor Tricia ... Tony inwardly shrugged, realizing that her young pussy surely had to be sore at that precise moment, wherever she was in school. Well, she had asked for it, insisting that she could take all of Tony's enormously thick and long prick up her young cunt. They had all gathered around, Charley, Andy and Lisa, all offering encouragement as he had carefully worked his well-lubricated throbbing cock into her pussy.
"Oh, spread those legs," Lisa kept instructing the girl, "Throw them up into the sky, real wide-and that cock will come." Half-way to go!" Andy kept yelling . "Half in-half out!"
"That young cunt will take it yet," Charley had hovered about, the scene bringing his spent cock back to life. "These kids today...."
"Hey, honey," Tony kept whispering in Tricia's ear. "Maybe I should stop ... you're not quite ready for me yet."
"No, don't stop-"
"Maybe I should use more vaseline."
"No, dammit!" Tricia had cried out. "No more fuckin' vaseline! If I didn't want it to hurt-I'd screw myself with my little pinky finger. Now give it to me-" she groaned, suddenly starting to gyrate her young hips upward off the bedsheets. "Give it to me-give it to me-give it to me!" she roared over and over again, each time working her young cunt upward to make it easier for Tony.
"Oh, wow..." Tricia finally gasped, all of Tony's throbbing cock buried within her slightly-haired snatch. "Oh, wow...."
Oh, wow, ... was right, Tony now thought, realizing this was the youngest snatch he had ever experienced. And now, he was seated directly across from the girl's father-who seemed to be doing a pretty damned good job of getting drunk, as though he was building himself up to an all-important proclamation-or maybe ... an indictment.
"Tony!" Clarence raised his voice, seemingly narrowing his attack. "You're young and in your prime-and I rate.. "
"Sir-" Tony stated, somewhat nervously. "You seem troubled about something-maybe a business matter? Is there something I could do-"
"Oh, business is just fine, Tony, just fine." He hesitated. "Oh, my lawyers tell me a little trouble is brewing-"
"What is it? Tony asked, leaning forward, wondering if the game was over. "I don't understand-"
"Nothing that should concern you, Tony. Just an out-of-town group of investors foolish-enough to think they can buy up controlling stock in the company. But my man is right on top of it-"
"John Pilsner-"
"Yes, good man-but Tony that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"It-it isn't.... " Tony dumbfounded, then hurriedly pulled himself together. "Whatever you need, Sir-"
"Like I said, you're young and in your prime...."
'I-I don't understand...."
"You know, I'm suddenly reminded of a time I just had my first store. That was when the Orpheum Theater was right across the street-before they tore it down," he added, somewhat sadly. "Well, they used to have live plays there, and those pretty young road actresses would come over to the store to do their shopping. Well, to make a long story short, I used to have my eye on one or two of the beauties. Well, one day, I observed this attractive blonde sneaking cosmetics into her handbag. Well I confronted her, and asked her to step upstairs into my private office." the Old Man stressed, lewdly nudging Tony's arm.
Tony's silent question was inevitable: Does the old rascal know about Lisa Pilsner? And if so-how did he find out?
Old man Traymore leaned over closer to Tony, confiding in him. "I didn't press charges-but I sure as hell got to press something else!" he chuckled loudly. "If you know what I mean ... and I'm quite sure you do, Tony, you sly rascal!"
"You seem to be trying to tell me something-"
"Tony, you and I are really quite alike. I think I can safely say that you're a fairly decent family man. I don't think Betty can complain." He leaned over closer to Tony again, almost whispering. "But that doesn't mean you might not occasionally enjoy an extra female on the side-oh, no attachments, merely an occasional fling."
"Mr. Traymore-" By now, Tony was completely puzzled. "I don't really understand-"
"I'm trying to tell you something," Clarence stated, finally putting his glass down. "That's probably quite obvious to you by now. And you've most likely figured out that it pains me, or I wouldn't be drinking too damned much."
"So level with me," Tony countered, unable to take the guessing games a moment longer. Whatever it was, he'd face the situation squarely. It couldn't possibly be the end of the world. Even if it meant his job-he'd get by, he'd get another job. Maybe he got the manager's berth because he was married to the boss's daughter-but he would have been bounced long before this if he couldn't cut it. Tony knew damned well that he could go to almost any big department store chain and get a manager's job tomorrow. "Spit it out, Mr. Traymore, whatever seems to be bothering
N you.
"This isn't going to be easy for me," Clarence actually flustered. "You know I'm a very proud man-with certain preconceived-"
"What are you getting at-just spell it out!"
"I'm trying, Tony, I'm trying-but it's killing me." He paused, went for his scotch and soda, changed his mind. "Tony, I need your help."
"My help...." Tony remained dumbfounded.
"It's Junior...." Old Man Traymore finally managed to utter. "I've seen it happening lately, but I've been so powerless to do anything about it. You see, Tony, my son has always been more attached to his mother, and...." The old man's head slumped downward.
"I think I understand-"
"Do you, Tony? Do you know what a father feels to see his son developing into a real fag-"
"Easy now-"
"I never thought I'd be able to use that ugly term to describe my own son ... a fag."
"Maybe you're jumping to conclusions," Tony offered, though he, too, felt certain the old man was right.
"No, Tony, I'm not. And I tell you, I just don't know how to cope with it. He's seeing an older man, I'm quite sure of that, Tony. Even though I haven't discovered who the man is."
"That shouldn't be the most important thing-"
"I'll kill the bastard-"
"No," Tony interrupted, placing his hand on the old man's arm "You know that's not the answer. There's a lot of old homosexual men in this world, and young ones too. What you've got to try to do is help Junior. They say that under certain conditions, psychiatric help might possibly-"
"I'm from the old school, Tony," Clarence cut in. "And I rather think you are too-that is, in sexual matters. Tony, I want you to help me out."
"But how?"
"I can't talk with Junior. Somehow, he seems to think of me as a money-making monster who-likes to hunt down and kill animals. You could talk with him, last summer when he worked at your store, I think he really got to like you."
"But what could I tell him?" Tony shrugged.
"You don't have to tell him a damned thing," the old man countered. "But then how-"
"Like I told you, I'm from the old school. Tony, take Junior under your wing. Get him fixed up with some real women."
"But what if-"
"You can do it, Tony," he winked knowingly at his son-in-law. "And I mean some real woman! Your wife won't have to know anything." The old man waited, his eyes pleading. "Please, Tony, do it for me. The boy trusts you. Just become his buddy, and get him on the right road with the opposite sex."
"But what if-"
"It's worth a try!" The old man cut in, obviously unwilling to take no for an answer.
"Okay, Sir," Tony nodded affirmatively that he would take on the assignment. "You're the boss."
"Tony, I'm not asking you to do this-as your boss ... but as a friend in need."
"I understand, and I promise I'll do my best."
"Whatever you have to do, Tony, It'll be worth the try. I couldn't bear to think of other people finding out that he's a hell, I can't make myself say that perverted word. "I'll do my best-"
"I wouldn't want Betty to find out-and I'd rather die than have poor little Baby-Tricia ever find out. The poor little darling, just starting to grow up-how could she ever possibly ever understand such an ugly thing about her own brother!"
"I understand," Tony replied, trying not to gasp, choke or laugh aloud-or possibly all three. "I understand...."
"She'd never understand ... poor baby-Tricia...."
CHAPTER NINE
SEXY SHOPLIFTER
"Poor baby Tricia...." Tony laughed aloud, repeating the Old Man's line to himself for what seemed the hundredth time. "Oh, that's rich," he wailed, pacing the length of his office. If the Old Man could only have seen his precious baby-Tricia with her legs thrust skyward, moaning and groaning to take all of his hot cock. Or what if the Old Man could have witnessed young Andy giving her a wild fucking with his slim-jim cock? And to round it out, The Old Man could really get the picture on Tricia's future if he could only have heard her utter: "No more fuckin' vaseline! I want it to hurt!"
Tony stopped short at the far wall, sliding a hidden panel, allowing him to view the action down on the main floor of the store. Gazing downward, he could watch his key security guard Charley Soma standing at a very tired attention near the cosmetic counter. Poor Charley ... Lisa Pilsner must have ruined him for quite some time.
"Hello there...." Tony wailed to himself, fixing his eyes on a mini-skirted blonde standing at the cosmetic counter, seemingly impatient to be waited on. Looking downward, Tony concentrated his gaze on her rear, imagining himself holding onto those fantastic buttocks while swinging into action.
"About twenty.... " he shrugged, guessing at her age. "Very nice, indeed," he sighed, saluting her with a hand on his crotch. He wondered why this beauty did not have an urge to do some shoplifting, conveniently get caught by Charley or Shirley, affording him an opportunity to play judge and jury. After all, the sexual sentences he handed out weren't always that rough.
Tony closed the hidden panel, realizing that he wouldn't always be as lucky as he had been with Lisa Pilsner. Before Lisa, it had actually been months, before he had sexually sentenced an attractive shoplifter who didn't want her husband to find out. Then, as with Lisa, Charley and Shirley were invited for seconds.
"Why?" Tony asked himself, moving back to his desk. Why are most female kleptomaniacs such homely, dreary people?" Tony smiled as he sunk back into his comfortable swivel chair. What the world needed, he decided, was more fantastically beautiful kleptomaniacs such as Lisa Pilsner.
"Who knows...." he shrugged, maybe there are plenty of them around, but he just wasn't lucky enough to have any of them attempt their shoplifting in the store he managed. Then, of course, he couldn't help but wonder if Charley and Shirley were really on the ball. After all, it wouldn't be right if any fantastically beautiful kleptomaniacs got away unpunished.
The security policy at all the Traymore stores had always been one of prevention, rather than detection. Unlike the more modern stores which employed plainclothes, undercover operatives, Traymore security relied solely on the sight of uniformed guards and large signs posted conspicuously warning that all shoplifters would be prosecuted to the limit of the law.
"Well, not all shoplifters-" Tony chuckled to himself, curious to know what the next female shoplifter might look like.
Tony leaned forward in his chair, staring blankly ahead of him, his mind churning on new prospects. If he could only find an excuse to have Charley and Shirley operate in plainclothes ... he was certain they would apprehend a much greater number of shoplifters. The rest would all be a matter of percentages. The more apprehensions-the greater the number of females. The greater the number of females-the greater the possibility of getting a few beauties willing to do most anything to not have their families find out.
He would have to give it some thought. But in the meantime he had a number of more pressing problems. First and foremost was what he had promised to do for Old Man Traymore. This wasn't exactly his line of work, but he would give it a try. Tony was beginning to have second thoughts, certain that it wasn't as simple as the Old Man thought it would be. It couldn't possibly be as simple as taking a potentially gay young man to some slut, telling her to spread his legs, and expect the man-in-question to come out of it totally straight. And even if Junior, or for that matter, any potentially gay person, did enjoy screwing some slut, it might only mean that he had bi-sexual tendencies. Although he was far from an expert on the subject, Tony sensed that a large number of people leading gay lives were in reality capable of experiences-both homosexually and heterosexually oriented experiences-but managed to fall into their gay rut by convenience; or by a fear of rejection by the opposite sex.
"This is for a psychiatrist-" Tony told himself, suddenly rising and pushing his chair back, wondering what he had let himself in for.
"Well, it might be fun...." Tony shrugged, thinking of how he had staged it all thus far. "It could be fun...."
Tony checked his wristwatch. The store would be closing in a matter of minutes, Junior should be arriving shortly after that. They'd have a drink together-it would seem natural enough. What Junior wouldn't know was that the two girls "just happening to have a drink" at the bar, had been planted there, totally prearranged by Tony.
"Will it work..." Tony started pacing again, doubts about the plan to "Fox Junior with a straight piece of ass," again filling his mind. "It's just not as simple as the Old Man thinks it is," he shrugged, sliding the hidden panel open to observe the start of the store closing.
"Well, hello-" Tony beamed, his eyes moving downward to the jewelry counter. "Lift whatever you want-" he moaned, observing none other than Lisa Pilsner inspecting various pieces.
Tony couldn't help but smile, noticing Shirley and Charley moving in on the jewelry counter, eyeing the attractive woman up and down. At that precise moment, Tony realized, any potential shoplifter could have easily walked off with half of the store, while Charley and Shirley were drooling over Lisa Pilsner clad in that formatting beige outfit, her fur piece so regally draped over her shoulders.
"What's she up to? I wonder," Tony puzzled, resolving to get a pair of binoculars for a better view down there. "I just wonder...."
"What am I doing here?" Lisa asked herself, her hands trembling as she fingered the bracelet. That salesgirl was watching her ever so closely, she knew that. This would be a tough one, she might not get that one necessary moment to sneak the bracelet into her handbag, or tuck it inside her dress.
"No ... no ... no," She didn't want to steal. So what was she doing at the scene of her last crime? "No ... no ... no," she whined, troubled by what hidden force had actually propelled her to this spot. Put the damned bracelet down, she angrily informed herself. Or tell the salesgirl you want to buy it.
Lisa swayed uneasily, straining desperately to understand what had brought her back again. She angrily bit at her lower lip, not certain whether she had driven down or had called a cab.
An analyst ... She contemplated the possibility of seeking professional help. She examined the bracelet-just an ordinary medium-priced trinket, one she'd probably never wear. She needed professional counseling, she was certain of that. But then later she would put it off, just like all the other times. Why couldn't she help herself? She had asked herself that question a thousand times over the past few years.
"May I help you?" the salesgirl asked.
"That's a very nice bracelet-"
"I-I'm not certain-"
"We'll be closing shortly, Ma'am."
"Yes..." How did that saying go? Saved by the bell! Maybe she would get lucky and be saved by the closing.
The bracelet remained in her hands, the feigned inspection. How many times before had she gone through the same routine? If she knew the answer to that, she'd probably know the reason she had suddenly left the house-whether it was by cab or however-to go on a shopping spree. Suddenly she was aware of her handbag. In there ... the evidence ... she had been in that department store across the street from Traymore's ... what that ugly bargain basement., . . now her handbag was heavier and bulky ... what was in there? She dared not look.
Unable to remember what she had tucked into her handbag before dashing out of that crowded bargain basement, she strained her memory even more to recall what had made her so hurriedly dress up and leave the house.
She thumbed through the layers of her mind, realizing that before hurriedly dressing to go on a shopping spree, she had been totally nude.
"Yes ... she recognized the fact, that was why she had to put some clothes on so quickly.
She had to get her clothes on to go shopping. She needed so many items....
"No ... she now whimpered, that wasn't why she had to hurry into her clothing. She had to hurry into her clothing because she had been so totally nude and exposed to-to the whole world.
"Timmy..." He would be coming home at almost any moment and he would have seen her in the raw.
"That's not it ... " she silently informed herself. Timmy had not only seen her nude-he had sexually experienced her that way.
She held the bracelet up closer, for a finer, more feigned examination; from the corner of her eye watching the salesgirl's action. This wasn't the same salesgirl as the other day, Lisa realized that instantly. Just like the husky well-built teenager up in her room that afternoon wasn't Timmy.
Lisa stopped short, the bracelet falling out of her hands back on the counter. The answer had finally surfaced front and center from where it had been locked on the back roads of her troubled mind.
"Roy," she whispered aloud. "One of Timmy's handsome buddies. That dark-haired boy of seventeen, with that rah-rah football hero look.....
"Lady," the salesgirl attempted to gain her attention, "If you've decided-we'll be closing in a minute...."
"Roy..." Lisa whimpered, turning slightly from the intrusion a moistness instantly triggering at the V of her pantied-snatch as she recalled that thick length of throbbing cock on a mere boy. Lisa bit at her lower lip, making the mental comparison between the teenager's equipment and Tony's mature meat. The boy was actually hung heavier than the grown man.
Roy ... he had come to borrow Timmy's tennis racket. "Yes ... " Lisa recalled how it had all started. Timmy had told him that he could borrow it.
Timmy was still at track practice, and had informed his buddy that Lena, the Pilsner's maid, would find the tennis racket for him up in his room.
"Lena's out shopping ... " Lisa had beamed at the boy, holding the door wide open for him. He was slightly shorter than Timmy, but was rippled with muscles. While her Timmy was a basketball and Track man-Roy was for football and wrestling.
"Should I come back later, Mrs. Pilsner," the dark-haired boy had beamed at her.
"Oh, I guess we'll be able to find it," she beamed back, suddenly aware of how those white-duck trousers seemed to be molded to his well-defined frame. And that T-shirt ... how beautifully it outlined a muscle-laden chest and the tautness of his stomach. "Somewhere in the debris of his room."
"That's what my Mom says about my room," Roy chuckled.
"Well, c'mon up with me," she invited him in, eyes sneaking glances at the bulge of his crotch. "You can join in the search."
That boy's eyes ... she was certain that it had grown by leaps and bounds since she had last inspected it. He had caught her in the act of her crotch-inspection, she was certain of that.
"What's the matter?" she had dumbly asked, finally pulling her bne of sight away from the young basket.
"You're so much younger looking than my Mona," he beamed, then flustered. "What I mean is "
The growth of his crotch-area had told her only too well what he had meant. She smiled, unable to find the appropriate words to return to the boy. Instead, she silently held her hands out to him, reaching out to his fantastically beautiful youth.
She could not fully comprehend it, but first her Timmy, then Andy ... she seemed bent on a parade of beautifully young boys. These boys, in the throes of their first sexual excitement.... it was like going to the proverbial fountain of youth. All that exuberance, some of it had to rub off on a woman.
"Oh, wow!" Roy had beamed, working the older woman into his powerful arms, his hands instantly attempting to capture the high rise of sweatered breasts. "You feel so great!"
"You're such a handsome young boy," she had whimpered, a hand brazenly going down to measure the fullness of that bulging crotch. "So handsome," she went on, unzipping his fly to go for an inside measurement.
"Oh, wow!" Roy moaned, reminding her of Andy's youthful zest. "You've got the most fantastic knockers!" he roared, impatiently tugging a hand underneath her sweater to tug at her bra. "You won't laugh if I tell you something-will you, Mrs. Pilsner?"
"No, I won't," she replied, thinking of the absurdity of the formality of the Mrs. Pilsner as he wrestled with her bra. "I promise I won't," she added, struggling valiantly to work her fingers inside the fly of his jam-packed jockey shorts, that like her Timmy's, seemed to be at least two sizes too small under this type of stress and strain.
"A couple of times-I've actually jerked off thinking about you," he moaned, working a hand inside a bra-cup. "I mean, after times that I had been here with Timmy, and saw you sitting around ... if you know what I mean...."
"Yes, Roy,. . . " she started, but didn't complete it as she tightened, incredulously wondering if that long, thick reel of cock could actually belong to a teenaged boy. "It's so big!" she gasped, managing to tug it out into the opening of his trousers. "I can't believe-"
"It's been like that since I was fifteen!" Roy boasted. "It just grew-"
"Oh, and I'm glad it did," Lisa whimpered, automatically dropping down on her knees, instantly working her mouth over the head of it.
"Oh, I love that-" Roy tensed, his long hands working downward to receive the fringe benefit-thrill of her lush mounds. "Oh, that's terrific," he whimpered, feeling her mouth so expertly glide down the length of his thick cock. "Oh, wow!" he youthfully exclaimed, feeling the head of his cock actually being pinned down at the start of her throat. This was it, he thought, the really big kick. He had gone ah" the way with two high school girls so far in his seventeen years on earth. Both times, while the girls had been babysitting, he had begged them to put their mouths down on his cock: "Just kiss it, please." Both times, the girls had balked at that seemingly unnatural act.
"Please not that," one of them had insisted, "I'll do almost anything but that."
Well, it was happening to him now, by an older and very experienced woman-his buddy's mom-and it was fantastically great. The boy watched the woman slobber her mouth up and down his hard meat, realizing that Timmy must never know about this episode.
Lisa worked her mouth fully up and down, slobbering openly at the joy of having a man's cock on a beautiful young boy. On this score, the cliche about having your cake and eating it too must certainly apply, she smugly informed herself.
Easy does it ... she warned herself, not wanting the boy to orgasm, too soon. Nice and easy ... she slowed the mouth-to-cock action, her hands going up to undo the boy's thick leather belt buckle. Never missing a mouth-to-cock stroke, she unsnapped the one button to part his trousers.
"Can I give it to you?" she heard the boy implore her, his hands growing rough on her breasts. "Can I screw you, Mrs. Pilsner?"
"Yes," she gasped, letting the thick reel of prick loudly plop out of her mouth. "Whatever you want-but you mustn't ever tell, not ever ... "
"I won't--" he whimpered. "Can I see you with no clothes on please, Mrs. Pilsner, take everything off!"
"You do the same thing," she smiled, bringing her lips to his, quickly flicking them.
Oh, wow!" He seemed to ache all over, lifting her upward off her knees. "Can I tongue-kiss you?" he honestly asked, his body now fully pressing hers, that exposed hard prick banging into her skirt-covered snatch area.
"Like this?" she brazenly countered, mouth open, pressing against his, tongue instantly slithering about within his mouth.
"Oh, wow!" He repeated the Now Generation phrase of exclamation.
"How about those clothes-" Lisa beamed, undoing the zipper at the side of her skirt.
"Yeah ... " he finally managed, already tugging down his trousers.
The floor a battleground of discarded clothing, they inspected each other:
The young boy ... the mature woman . . .both on the high shrine of beautiful nudity.
"I want to give it to you..." Roy started, extending a hand down to her flaming red-haired snatch. "We're alone..." she replied, enjoying the feel of his trembling fingers at her love-slit. "Tell it like it is. Tell me what you want to do to me. I'd love to hear it."
"I-I'd love to screw you."
"Really like it is," she shot back, spreading her legs further apart for the benefit of his busy fingers. "Don't hold anything back, tell it right out."
"Oh, wow! What I mean is-I'd like to fuck you." He jabbed his fingers deeper up into her cunt. "Yeah, I'd really love to."
"Then do it," she brazenly shot back, leading the boy over to Timmy's bed. "Fuck the shit out of my cunt!"
"Like crazy I'll fuck you-" Roy went on, a hand planted firmly on his ready cock. "Like crazy!"
"No, wait ... " Lisa stopped short at the edge of Timmy's bed, instantly drawing a mental image of how her son had thundered her with his love on that bed.
"What's the matter-"
"Quick, across the hall, in my bedroom-"
"But what's the difference-"
"Please, do as I say," she cut in, dashing out of the room, hurrying to what her mind obviously thought would be the safe psychological haven of her room-the room she shared with so very little love with her husband. There, she had a right to get as much loving as possible.
"Loving ... " she whispered, sitting on the edge of her marital bed. "Fucking..." That's what she could never get enough of with her husband. And now she would get as much as she could possibly get with this teenaged boy with a man-sized cock jutting directly into her face.
"Oh, let me give it to you," the boy whimpered, aiming his cast-iron tool toward her love-mound. "Let me fuck you!"
"Oh, give it to me!" she shot back, suddenly thrusting herself back on the bed, her legs flying animal-like up into the air. "Fuck me, young lover, fuck my cunt royally!"
Lisa suddenly cringed, suddenly aware of the fact that she was once again "examining" that certain bracelet. She caught the salesgirl staring at her.
Why? Lisa wanted to know why that girl was looking at her like that. Maybe she knew what a perverted slut she was becoming, Lisa inwardly shuddered, imagining Timmy's buddy already spreading the gossip around the neighborhood and out and beyond for the world to know:
"Hey fellas! Want a good blow-job? Go see Timmy's mother, she'll suck your prick royally!"
"Hey, guys! Want a real fantastic piece of ass? See Timmy's old lady! She fucks like a mink! On top or on the bottom-she throws a wicked fuck."
A strange feeling came over Lisa, she seemed totally unable to put that bracelet back down on the counter. She felt beads of perspiration starting at her forehead. That salesgirl staring at her like that ... did the girl know about her sickness? What was the word ... kleptomania!
No ... she could sense that lewd sneer on the salesgirl's face. That brand of sneer wasn't for a kleptomaniac. To Lisa's troubled mind, it was as though this salesgirl had actually been an audience of one, a spectator to Lisa's crowning sex feat with that muscular, well-hung teenaged boy.
Roy had thundered her furiously with his thick cock, holding out as long as he could before flooding her with his river of hot love-juice. Through it all, she had viewed that rugged young ass bouncing up and down over her through the full-length mirror at an angle from the foot of the bed.
"Oh, that beautiful sweet ass-" she heard repeated, seemingly in time with each and every one of his enthusiastic cock-to-cunt thrusts. "Oh, that fantastic young ass-" She had continually slithered her tongue over her lips, her hands moving up to capture those muscled buttocks, fingers probing and digging into the well-defined crack.
It was only a matter of second-merely seconds from the time he had heaved his final sigh, his spent cock having erupted its final drop of semen-when she turned him over, her tongue dashing madly for the crack of his ass.
"Oh, let me taste it," she growled, spreading his legs wide apart, the tongue flicking up and down the length of it. "Oh, how delicious-"
"What the hell-" Roy had puzzled, totally unable to comprehend the woman's desire to run her tongue up and down the length of his ass-hole. "Whatcha doing?" he tightened, feeling the new sensation. He asked the inevitable question of youth and inexperience: Why would she want to suck an ass-hole-when she could suck his cock? Even his balls-he could understand that-but why his ass-hole?
"Oh, please, just stay still," she begged, the tongue gliding back and focth. "If I showed you a good time-then give me a break."
"Yeah, sure ... Oh, wow!" he suddenly yelled, feeling the tip of her tongue digging frantically down into his ass-crack, seemingly in search of shit. "Oh, whatever it is you're doing-do it-do it-do it.... "
Lisa jarred her mind back to the present, watching that damned salesgirl turn to check her register. "Do it..." Lisa whispered hoarsely to herself. "Do it ... " she repeated, a subconscious voice telling her to shove the bracelet into her handbag. No-up into low-plunge of her dress, sneak it right inside her bra. This was her big chance-it would have to be now or never.
"Mrs. Pilsner?"
The voice was coming from behind her-directly behind her-she could feel the man's breath. She dropped the bracelet on the counter, ready to turn and run. They wouldn't catch her this time, not again.
"Hello..." the voice seemed softer. Suspiciously, Lisa turned slightly. "You are Mrs. Pilsner, aren't you?" The young man asked. "I thought I recognized you."
I-I don't-" She flustered, studying the young man obviously in his very early twenties. "I don't know...." she stopped, dumbfounded by the sight of him. He seemed much too kind and considerate to be a store detective. And that smile, so warm....
"I'm Junior Traymore " he smiled. "I met you at the Club....."
Oh-oh, yes," she whispered in a barely audible, but totally relieved tone. "Yes, I remember now-
Clarence Traymore Junior then uttered the prize understatement of his twenty-one years. "I'm a friend of your husband's."
"Oh."
"What I mean is-" the handsome young man with the sensitive features flustered. "I know him-I know your husband..."
Tony Mondor stepped gingerly out of the elevator. He stopped short, at the sight of Junior and Lisa engaged in conversation.
"Well, I'll be..." Tony gave it all a "why not?" shrug, sensing an unexpected change in plans. "This could very well be old home week ... " he gleefully murmured under his breath. "A good old-fashioned fuckin' home week."
CHAPTER TEN
GROUP GROPE
"Scotch and soda all the way around," Tony Mondor beamed, handing first Lisa her drink, then one to Junior. "What should we drink to?" he asked, holding up his drink to toast his two guests seated on his couch. "Who'll make an offer," he tilted his head sheepishly sideway, measuring approximately a foot of empty space between Junior and Lisa on the couch. He'd have to bridge that space, he convinced himself-one way or another.
"I have a suggestion," Lisa countered with a lewd smile beamed directly at and only for Tony. "Let's drink to the constant search."
"The search for what?" Junior asked, turning slightly toward her, seemingly starting to relax for the first time since Tony had invited them both up to his office for a drink. "Anything in particular?" he asked, already interested in what made other people tick.
"What are we searching for?" Tony asked, now perched on the side of his desk, directly before his seated guests.
"Thrills," Lisa announced, lifting her glass on high. "Newness in life-thrills...."
"I'll drink to that," Tony replied.
"Cheers," Junior chimed in, not too certain where this encounter might be going. Taking a sip of his drink, he was beginning to wonder about Tony's flimsy excuse for getting him there. Something or another about supervising the inventory after the Fall rush-a rush that had not even started.
"Anything special you'd like to drink to, Junior?" Tony smiled, and to himself he added: like getting your first piece of ass.
"I'll go along with Lisa's toast," he shrugged. "Though we sometimes hate to admit it, we're all in search of thrills, in one way or another."
"I'll go along with that," Tony sipped his drink, experiencing the strangest sensation that two sets of eyes from that couch were fixed in the general vicinity of the crotch. Hiding behind his drink, he studied the pair, still at least a foot of space between them. That feeling that both of their eyes were trained on his crotch, maybe that made the foot of space between them more like a million miles. Bridge the gap, he thought, and don't take too long about it or it just won't happen.
Leave them alone ... he mused, wondering if he could find some excuse that he would have to leave for a while. Maybe he could ask them to wait for an "important phone call," until he returned. He shrugged negatively within himself, certain this ploy wouldn't work. And, somehow, he couldn't quite imagine Junior working up to the point of working his hands over to Lisa's waiting anatomy. Lisa might, he thought, once she got going. She was a real ball of fire-but someone had to toss the match under her to set her in motion. Tony felt reasonably certain of that, and he was the one person who could do it. Those two pair of eyes, they were both darting a steady stream of glances at his crotch area. He widened his stance, accentuating the bulge at the V of his trousers.
Testing time, he told himself, ever so casually running hand down his thigh, sneaking it once or twice on the slowly rising hill of cock and balls. Both of them he caught for certain, those little gasping sounds at the sight they seemed to be enjoying so much. Hold back on the testing, he told himself, certain that after a few more "innocent rubs" the rising hill of crotch would soon be a throbbing mountain.
"What did you want to talk to me about, Tony?" Junior asked. "Somehow, it sounded urgent-"
"Oh, hell no," Tony waved him off. "Just some special work I wanted you to help me out with on your next intersession."
"What's it all about-"
"Hey-hey," Tony abruptly cut in. "We have a lady present," he gestured warmly toward Lisa, as though emphasizing her curvy qualities. "Let's not spoil such a pleasant get-together with business talk. Besides, we just drank to thrills. Now this meeting should be open to a discussion of potential thrills."
"Some thrills are very private," Junior countered, thinking of that certain sense of exhilaration he was getting out of being with the wife of the man who had made such wild gay-love to him the night before. "I mean-" he went on, realizing that both Lisa and Tony were waiting for him to widen the scope of his statement. "A thrill could come about because of something one person alone possesses-the knowledge of something-and once he shares it, the thrill is gone."
"You're talking over my head," Lisa replied, taking another sip of her drink.
"And such a beautiful head," Tony stressed. "Junior, don't you think so? Or are you too young to appreciate such beauty?"
"She is beautiful," Junior nervously replied, "And I'm not too young to appreciate it," he added, trying to sound worldly, suddenly frightened that they might instantly realize the fact that he had never been to bed with a girl. "She-she's very beautiful," he added, looking downward.
"Well, thank you, Junior," Lisa replied, swinging her knees toward him, bridging at least half of the one foot distance. "You're a very handsome young man, and a woman my age-likes to hear compliments."
"You're not that old," Junior flustered. "What I mean is ... you look so young."
"I know what you mean," she smiled warmly, placing her free hand on his wrist.
Junior looked into her eyes for the first time, suddenly frightened by the relationship this woman most obviously had to one degree or another with the man who had done all those things to him last night.
"My daddy-lover..." he had subconsciously called John Pilsner at the height of their gay lovemaking. He had repeated it a number of times, now realizing that he had never been able to really get close to his father. Somehow, Junior sensed that the old man always used emissaries whenever he wanted to talk to him. like Tony ... the call ... it had something to do with his father; of this, he was reasonably certain.
"Lets have another drink," Tony announced, realizing that he had to get the party into high gear before long, before one of them might chicken out. "While we explore the various avenues in search of thrills."
What would you suggest?" Lisa slyly asked, her gaze now going from Tony to Junior. Junior, she thought, still had that fantastically great young quality, but was beyond the "mere boy" stage, such as she had been experiencing with Timmy, Andy and only today with Roy. "You seem to be something of an expert on thrills, Tony."
"A mere amateur," he shrugged his modesty, while pouring three more drinks. "But I will admit to having given it some thoughts."
"Can drinking be considered a thrill?" Junior asked, watching Tony hand them their drinks, his eyes strangely going from Tony's crotch area to those lush mounds Lisa possessed.
"I'd say that drinking is most often an additive to spur a person on to seeking new thrills."
"Would you mind explaining that?" Lisa slyly asked.
"I don't dare-" he tightlipped, making a point of gulping his drink. "But I will make a rather general list of potential thrills."
"By all means." Lisa leaned forward, the second drink starting to loosen her up. "Let's hear what you've got to say," she added, purposely wetting her lips, darting a quick glance at Tony's crotch area, and then a more thorough one over at Junior's mystery-area.
"Well," Tony started, leaning backward on the edge of his desk, accentuating the wide stance of his legs. "Committing a crime might be considered a thrill."
"That's not the prime element-" Junior started to contradict Tony.
"It sure as hell is, if that's why the person sets out to commit the act."
"Any specific type of crime?" Lisa asked, knowing only too well that certain types of stealing were most decidedly in that category.
"Anything and everything," Tony shrugged, trying to avoid the specific mention of kleptomania. "Hell, even murder might be committed for the sole purpose of experiencing a thrill."
"How about drugs?" Junior asked, suddenly curious if the slightly older generation of Tony and Lisa might enjoy smoking pot as much as he did. "Would you consider the use of drugs as a means of obtaining thrills?"
"That's the big mistake most young people make," Tony quickly countered. "They take drugs-as the thrill. But in reality, taking drugs is pretty much the same route as drinking booze. It's not the thrill itself-it's the courage people seem to need to move out into the adventure arena in search of new thrills."
"Well, Tony," Lisa smiled, suddenly feeling very much at ease as she downed the remainder of her second scotch and soda, "I don't feel like murdering anyone-just for the thrill of it. So what else is left?" she asked, smiling broadly, knowing only too well what remained in the realm of thrills.
"The greatest thrill of all times," Tony proclaimed, gesturing broadly with his arms. "From the very beginning of time. Sex! Pure and simple-sex!"
"That's usually a private matter," Junior countered, a fear of his manhood starting to engulf him.
"It shouldn't be," Tony shot back. "It should be ever so beautifully above-board. What I mean is, we are forever going around with hidden desires-when we could honestly act them out with one another." Tony pushed the issue, wanting to get his show on the road as soon as possible.
"You're losing me," Junior shrugged.
"To give you but one example-people have such dreadful hang-ups about nudity. Why, it's the greatest feeling ever to be free of one's clothing."
"When you're alone," Junior replied, "or with someone special, you know, making love."
"I don't know about that," Lisa found herself saying, a sense of liberation coming over her, seemingly taking Tony's side of the issue. "I think it might be a thrill in itself for friends to suddenly decide to take their clothes off, whenever they felt like it."
"But what if someone in the group might be squeamish about taking his clothes off?"
Junior wanted to know.
"Then he should have the right to keep his clothes on," Tony shrugged, sensing by how uneasily Junior was shifting about that he was reaching him. "If he didn't dig seeing the other people in the nude-if that wasn't the kick he was after-then he should have the right to walk out on it." Tony stopped long enough to take a sip of his drink. "But at no time should that person have the right to impose his will on the others who want to suddenly discard their clothing!"
"I'll drink M. that," Lisa proclaimed, holding up her empty glass. "If you'll be nice enough to mix me another drink."
"Gladly," Tony beamed, anxious to pour her another double shot of scotch. "And I'll join you," he added, downing the remainder of his drink. "How about you, Junior? Can you keep up with us old timers?"
"Yeah, sure," Junior said, flustered. "I'll have another."
"So who's in the mood to experience a thrill?" Lisa calmly asked, watching Tony mix the drinks.
"I am," Tony replied, once again handing them their drinks, this time noticing that Junior most obviously had a hard-on pressing up against his trousers. "I could go for a little thrill," he played it out slowly, wondering if
Lisa or he had given Junior the hard-on. Probably a combination, Tony inwardly shrugged.
"So don't keep us in suspense," Lisa wet her lips. "What's the thrill?"
"Of course, ladies before gentlemen," Tony slyly countered. "So if you have a little thrill in mind-"
"I pass," she coyly waved him off.
"How about you, Junior?"
"I, too, pass," he smiled, trying desperately not to be frightened and get into the spirit of the fun unfolding before them. "I'm willing to learn from my so-called elders."
"So what's your thrill?" Lisa persisted. "You're the man telling us about a brave, new world free of all the puritanical restraints and taboos. Let us in on it-see if we understand."
"At this very moment," Tony solemnly started, "I have. a sudden urge to be totally nude-to get rid of these damned restraining, supposedly civilized items of clothing."
"So be it," Lisa replied, trying to sound calm, in reality feeling a very definite moistness starting at the V of her sheer panties. "What do you think about it?" she asked Junior, suddenly placing her free hand fully on his thigh, dangerously close to the start of his crotch. "Speak up," she toyed with Junior, gulping slightly at the sudden awareness of his hard-on hidden by his trousers. "What do you think about Tony's sudden urge to experience the thrill of being totally nude while we are still here?"
"Sure," Junior gulped uneasily, totally bewildered as to where it might all lead. "I guess so," he went on, feeling the warmth of Lisa's hand starting to scorch through the material of his trousers.
The way she touched him ... it all seemed so natural to Junior, giving him second thoughts about his fear of the opposite sex. This mature woman ... seemingly edging closer to him ... she couldn't be as cruel as so many of those cock-teasing girls his age.
"I'm beginning to feel free already," Tony shrugged, unbuttoning his shirt.
"You've got a long way to go," Lisa smiled wickedly, pointing her drink up toward his undressing activities. "But by all means, keep up the good work."
"Oh, I intend to," he informed her, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. "How the kids say-right on!"
Lisa shifted her gaze from the undressing progress Tony was making, over to Junior. That long reel of cast-iron material outlined along his thigh was beginning to do things to her, mainly moistening the start of her love-slit. Boldly, she set her drink down, moving a hand continually until it rested directly over the bulging sight. She heard Junior gasp, suddenly aware of the fact that they were both shifting their lines of sight to Tony, now down to only his shorts.
"Here goes," Tony announced, yanking his shorts down and quickly stepping out of them. "My thrill commences, total nudity," he announced, picking up his drink, seemingly downing the remainder of it to salute his bold feat. "So who's next in the thrill department?" he asked, noticing that both Lisa and Junior had their eyes fixed solidly on his rock-hard jut of prick. He purposely worked one hand down to cup his balls, aiming his equipment generally in both of their directions. "Who's next?" he asked again. "Let's go for total liberation, that's what this world could use a helluva lot more of," he informed them, bringing the hand up from his balls to solidly grasp his thick prick.
"Man!" Junior gasped, "you're hung like a real stud!"
"I haven't had too many complaints," Tony boasted, edging continually over to them, playfully positioning his equipment on dead center, directly between them. He noticed Lisa's hand so fully massaging Junior's hard bulge. Junior seemed tense, somewhat frightened.
"It's enormous-" Junior groaned, "You've got me beat."
"Not by much," Lisa cut in, her hand doing a fairly accurate job of measuring the length of hard prick imprisoned by Junior's trousers. "Not by a helluva lot."
"It's so thick..." Junior continued.
"I've been told it's quite a mouthful," Tony teased for the benefit of both of them. "Quite a mouthful," he repeated, watching them both wet their lips.
"I'll second that motion," Lisa countered, that old animal-boldness coming back to her. "A real mouthful ... " she moaned, suddenly leaning over and flicking a kiss on the huge head of the throbbing prick. "Yes, indeed," she lewdly wailed, moving a steady barrage of little kisses down along the length of the throbbing meat. "One fantastic mouthful," she purred, one hand still servicing Junior's bulge as her mouth flicked kisses aimlessly about the throbbing mass of prick.
"Would you care to demonstrate?" Tony slyly asked, gyrating his hips up toward her mouth. "Did you say you wanted one thrill or two?" shy asked, between her pleasant chore of flicking kisses about the prong of hard cock.
"I'm greedy," he admitted. "I'll take just as many thrills as I possibly can get."
"All well and good," she countered, "But I think the way this little game should go is that first, Junior and I get to an initial thrill apiece. And to me-at this very moment," she stressed, via pressing her hand down more firmly on the bulge of Junior's trousers, "is to experience a totally new cock, one that I've never encountered before."
"That's perfectly understandable," Tony quickly acknowledged, pleased to get so much assistance from Lisa toward the possible sexual reconversion of the young man placed in his charge. "So what's stopping you?"
"How do I know it's okay with Junior?" Lisa asked, sensing that he was somewhat frightened by it all.
"He looks more than ready to me," Tony replied. "How about it, Junior? Does she get to try out her thrill?"
"Yeah ... sure..." Junior flustered, the hand still fingering his aching cock.
"Then it's my thrill time," Lisa boldly announced, sliding off the couch and down to what seemed to be her favorite position lately-right down on her knees. "Just watch me go!" she moaned, expertly undoing his belt buckle and moving directly on to the pleasant task of unzipping his fly. "We should play this game more often," she whispered hoarsely, getting the first feel of his perfectly shaped prick and tugging it out of his underwear. "Oh, yes indeed!" she gasped, sublimating so many unexplained sexual desires within the tormented workings of her mind.
"Say hello to me," she lewdly gasped, flicking kisses wildly about first the head of Junior's cock, and then all the way down to the base of it. "Hello-hello-hello!" she cried out, her lips careful not to neglect those delightfully low-slung balls.
"Oh, it's thrill-time," she proclaimed, lowering her mouth fully over the head of Junior's cock.
"Oh, do it!" Tony encouraged her, his hand massaging the throbbing ache of his prick. "Oh, do it up right for the boy-show him what it's all about!
Lisa complied, driving her mouth fully down the beautifully circumcised length of prick her chin soon resting up against the scrotum she had tugged out of his trousers and shorts.
"Oh, do it," Tony whimpered, tightening his grip on his own cock, his eyes fixed on Junior who was tensed up completely, "Hey, loosen up," he urged him. "Just relax, and take it as it comes."
"Oh, it feels so great," Junior finally managed to utter, suddenly aware of a new dimension to the act-that certain something extra when her mouth traveled up and down on his cock.
Junior closed his eyes, trying to shut out the madness. What's it all about, his young mind wanted to know. Only last night this woman's husband was working furiously up and down the length of his hard cock. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, that man's wife was operating in a similar manner, mouth riding the hard trail of his cock.
"Hey, do it, Lisa-baby," Tony encouraged from the sideline, his hand steadily massaging his own cock. "Oh, suck that cock, baby!"
Junior Traymore swayed uneasily, all the pat answers being lost in the shuffle. Tony had just boiled it all down to a very basic: "Suck that cock, baby!"
Was that all there was to it?
"Suck that cock, Lisa-baby!" Tony kept yelling.
Sure, why not . . .Junior inwardly shrugged, suddenly wondering what all the tremendous inner hassle he had been going through was all about. He had been "struggling with his conscience," searching for his direction-straight or gay.
Gay or straight.
Straight or gay.
Suddenly it was all so pathetically clear to him. There was no such definite boundary line between straight and gay. Sure, a guy might go all the way over to the gay, if he had suffered enough bad knocks in the straight world-real or imagined-but why have such pangs of guilt over it? And more important, why swear allegiance to their straight or gay?
Take it as it comes, he realized, watching the wife doing a more deliberate job on his cock. Her husband had to repeatedly stop, telling him over and over again how he was certain he loved him.
Look at the wife go. She was in love, too. With his cock-and her big thrill. Just as Tony spelled it out in very plain English-right down to the street level: "Oh, you fantastic cocksucker."
That was the name of Lisa Pilsner's present thrill game: Cocksucking.
Junior pushed forward on the couch, letting the head of his prick jam down into her throat. He worked one hand out to grasp at her lush breasts. First one, then the other ... touching them fully; not just brushing against them as he would always try to do with his mother.
Junior decided on another course of action for his other hand. Since he had come to the instant decision that there really was no need for an absolute sexual course in life between gay and straight-or straight and gay ... he used the other hand to pry Tony's hand away from that thick ramrod of prick.
"I'll take over that little job," he found himself saying, while stroking the rod back and forth. "Oh, don't stop," he nodded at Lisa.
"Like Tony's said: suck that cock, baby! Eat it!"
"Hooray for Junior!" Tony cried out. "Hey, hey, why don't you start thinking about your desired thrill? It's about to come to your turn, Junior."
Junior stopped stroking the cock in his hand. Deep in thought, he worked the other hand from Lisa's breasts up to her chin. "Slow it up," he whispered. "Hell, I might just as well get in on the thrill-game, and if you keep that up, I'll explode this load much too soon."
"Name it," Lisa groaned, letting the cock loudly slobber out of her mouth. "I dig this wild routine."
"This may not seem so wild to you," Junior honestly started. "But I have a tremendous need for it ... " he hesitated, then had to blurt it out. "because I've never had it before ... because..." he faltered.
"I think I understand," she whispered, bringing her lips close to his, flicking him a number of quick kisses.
"You won't make fun of me?" he asked, thinking of that one time ... that girl ... laughing at him because he couldn't keep his eager young cock hard. "Promise you won't laugh-"
"Oh, no-no-"
"Name it," Tony urged Junior, "You're up to it Babe!"
"I-I want to have sex with you-"
"Spell it out, Junior," Tony hissed in his face. "Tell her in plain English."
"I-I want to screw you," he softly informed her.
"Is that the best you can do?" Tony taunted him.
"Please don't, leave him alone," Lisa countered, feeling a sense of compassion for the young man only a few years older than her own son. "Junior, I understand-"
"No, Tony is right," Junior tightlipped. "In this world, you've got to spell it right out to get by-loud and clear!"
"Junior, I understand-"
"Baby!" Junior roared, his hands suddenly crawling all over her dress. "I want to fuck you! Yeah, fuck you....."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JUNIOR LEARNS HOW
like being lost at sea ... Lisa thought. A man and a woman, the sole survivors of the world, floating on a raft for eternity.
Floating ... that beautiful feeling of floating, being rocked in a steady pattern of sheer joy.
Lisa arched her back against the foamy material, gyrating her hips upward to encourage Junior's steady barrage of cock-to-cunt action.
Tony Mondor deserves a medal ... Lisa thought, watching him kneeling over the action. Since she did not have a medal handy, she beamed a smile at him, removing one hand from Junior's buttocks to give the more mature man's cock a quick and very appreciative squeeze. When it came to thrills via sex-Tony Mondor seemed to be making a career of it, always ready for the action. Tony was ever so thoughtful, she told herself. Rather than have Junior experience his first lay on the couch or floor, he had quickly spread an inflatable circular raft on the floor-which he "just happened to have handy in the closet."
When it came to sexual preparedness-Tony Mondor deserved an A-plus.
"Oh, give it to her!" Tony encouraged Junior. Down on his knees, steadily stroking his own cock, Tony actually seemed content to be the spectator, continually circling the foamy arena. Almost like a referee, eyes fixed on the two wrestlers on the mat, watching for a foul or a victory.
"Oh, fuck that cunt, Junior-boy-fuck it, fuck it!"
Oh, yes," Lisa chimed in, throwing her hips up fully as she felt the young man's cock slamming within the very core of her. "Do like the man says fuck me, fuck me, just keep right on fucking me!"
"You're working like an old pro," Tony informed the handsome young man with the extremely sensitive features. "A real fucking pro!
Lisa stopped the gyrating movement of her hips, turning the entire action over to Junior, sensing his need to be the dominating force. She could hardly believe that this was his first time up to bat. She wet her lips, letting the cock-to-cunt action swirl within her. She managed a smile, realizing that she was performing a service for Junior-the very same service she had performed for her son.
"The first fuck ... " she inwardly murmured, suddenly realizing how important that had to be to a young man. Especially to a sensitive young man who might be easily frightened about his ability to function like a "real man." The world of men wasn't totally populated with Tony Mondor, men who naturally take to sex, having that seemingly inborn ability to overpower women.
Lisa relaxed, letting Junior handle all the action, his hands now circling her buttocks, his fingers probing into the crack of her ass. Junior seemed to be a new person now, riding high in his sexual saddle. Lisa shuddered for a brief moment, recalling how it almost did not come about. Junior was so unbelievably tense getting the action started.
"Is it going in?" he had asked, pushing it generally in the area of her love-slit.
"Easy does it," she had purred in his ear.
"Like this?" he had asked, positioned much too high for a good entry into her vagina. "Is it okay?"
"Easy now..." she had smiled, instantly bending over, almost doubled up, flicking quick kisses on the head of his cock. "Let me guide it in for you," she whispered. "Just as soon as I give it a little more natural lubrication," she had added, quickly running her mouth up and down the shaft of hard cock. "Easy does it," she had repeatedly purred, aiming the head of his cock directly into the start of her slippery love slit, positioning him perfectly over her. "Easy does it...."
And "easy" had done it, perfectly bringing Junior's cock into Lisa's delightful pussy. It wasn't long either before Junior experienced the most satisfying climax of his short sexual career.
After that, all three of them sat back for a while as an exciting new idea came to all of them. Why not save the marriage by making it a regular threesome. "Trailism" it's called.
Lisa was the first to voice her thoughts. The others agreed. It would take a while to make it all really practical. And Timmy would have to be told. But the idea sounded just fine. Half-gay, half-straight was just fine. Maybe sometimes there'd be another pussy for Lisa to delight in.
This was true liberation. It was more than the three could do to resist getting right back into another bout of sexual emancipation. Which is just what they did.
