When the last of Professor Walter Jordan's students had departed Cranston Hall, he collected his lecture notes, absently placed them in his black attache case, then sat frowning at his desk and running his long fingers through his graying sideburns. At thirty-six he felt totally drained, a great sense of futility, of failure. Since the death of his student lover, Karen Ingraham, with an overdose of Seconal tablets two months ago, he had been living in a perpetual state of depression. He had found no comfort in his literature. His poetry. The memory of Karen flowed not gently, but gnawingly, like bittersweet Afton through his troubled brain, for indeed his love had been like a "red, red rose." (As a youth, Walter had liked the poet, Robert Burns.)
Walter stared sullenly at. the cylindrically shaped sun rays that dared to stream through the thick glass windows of Stanhurst University, northern California's finest educational institution, and thought of Karen Ingraham. Tiny dust specks, kicked up by the students' exodus, swirled within the solar cones and he realized once again that Karen Ingraham was now only dust herself.
Screw it, he thought. Screw it all.
It was mid-June, and he was scheduled to teach during the upcoming summer session, but he decided at that moment that he would take a leave of absence, abandon the ivory tower of learning and, somehow, try to get involved with the kind of young people he had been instructing but really didn't know. Yes, I will be like T.S. Eliot's Prufrock, he thought. I will "wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach."
"Walter," he spoke aloud, his voice echoey in the big hall, "You are getting so fucking literary you are becoming a pain in the ass. Go out and live a little. Just as you once left the grammar to the grammarians, now leave the literature to the literati."
Feeling better at having made a decision, Walter Jordan, stood up and hastily left Cranston Hall. It was a beautiful day and he was glad to be away from the musty odor of the classroom. He wanted no more mustiness-no "musts" at all. He was free now. The man, whose students often told him he resembled the actor Clint Eastwood, strode forcefully at a jaunty gait past the Admissions and Records building. For some reason the word Venice kept running through his mind, and he decided that Venice might be the perfect place for him to find himself. Yes, he would take a small place on the beach, mingle with the new generation he had heard were making an exciting style of life there and make an effort to learn what really made these young people "tick." Just a few hours by auto to the south of California, and an entirely new way of life awaited him! Walter Jordan smiled broadly and began whistling a strain from Stravinski's Petroushka. Then, catching himself, he switched to "Baby, Light My Fire."
Walter hoped he wasn't too late to catch Venice still jumping. He had dilly-dallied until the whole Haight Ashbury business had collapsed, so probably he had delayed too long with Venice too. Well, no matter, he thought. Even the remnants of something would be better than a stifling existence at Stanhurst University.
Whistling the theme from 2001 now, Walter arrived at his private office in the English Department and quickly composed a letter to the head of the department, Ambrose "Biff" Cuthbert, informing "Biff" that he would not be teaching during the summer session. When he had finished the letter, he sealed it in an envelope and began glancing over his notes for his next class, Contemporary World Poetry, in
Shaefer Hall at 11:00 A.M.-approximately forty-five minutes from now.
He had been preparing himself for the poetry class for perhaps ten minutes when Sheila O'Brien's light knock on his open doorway caused him to look up. "May I come in, Dr. Jordan?" she purred. Sheila was a beauty and Karen Ingraham's roommate until her recent demise. While Karen had been tall, slim, sophisticated and brunette, Sheila was blonde, curvaceous, and earthy. Walter had often speculated that he could have made a play-a most successful play-for her at any time.
He removed his glasses and smiled broadly. "Why of course, dear," he said. "This is a most pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this visitation?" Even his own words sounded stuffy and stilted to his ears.
"Oh, I don't know," Sheila said, blinking her long lashes and cocking her hip. In her beige pants suit, she looked ravishing. Her high, firm breasts and totally feminine manner had Walter fighting to control his hungry stare. It had been two months now without sex, ever since Karen's death. He detested his vulnerability, knowing that he would be easy prey even for a streetwalker if he weren't such a snob.
"No special reason for stopping by, I guess," Sheila continued. "It's just that I think often of
Karen, and when I think of Karen I naturally think of you. How are you getting along, Walter?"
She called him Walter. She was the only human being-student body or faculty-who had known about his relationship with Karen.
"I'm surviving,. I suppose," Walter said. "I miss Karen terribly, of course, and in fact I have just decided to cancel the summer session and go away somewhere. By myself. No, the truth is things have not gone well at all. I seem to be very confused. I thought I had reached some sort of understanding of young people-through Karen, I mean. But I now find that I have no idea whatever what motivates the younger generation. You young people are, in fact, a complete enigma to me. I don't understand the need for drugs. Even the thought of a phrase such as 'drug culture' turns my stomach. Nor do I understand the notion of casual sex. You see, Sheila, I am a hopeless 'square.' I am bound by the shackles of an 'uptight' upbringing. Intellectually, I identify tremendously with the youth of today, but my heart resides in the realm of restraint, fear and propriety."
Walter felt as though he might cry at that moment. "You see, I sense that there is something I want to reach out for, touch and make mine, but I don't know what it is and, worse, I fear I wouldn't recognize it even if I could grasp it." He sighed deeply. "For a time there, I felt certain I had found what I seek in Karen, but now she is gone and everything seems so pointless again. There is no meaning ... it's all so-well, so nothing."
Walter was able to speak openly with Sheila because she and Karen and he had shared many evenings together in frank conversation. Next to Karen, in fact, Sheila probably knew the real Walter Jordan better than anybody at Stan-hurst.
Sheila crossed the small room to his desk then and ran her fingers through his hair. "If it wouldn't be too painful, Walter, why don't you come over tonight? None of Karen's personal belongings are there anymore. I think you need company. Will you? I'll cook us a bite to eat."
Walter shuddered at the touch of Sheila's hand. He was so lonely. True, it would be painful visiting the same duplex he had spent so many hours-nights!-in, but perhaps the visit would help him through the days that remained until he fled Stanhurst for his leave of absence in Venice. Still, the thought of sitting in the same chairs, listening to the same classical records, dining with the same utensils, all of it, might prove more than he could bear.
"I-I don't know, Sheila. It's awfully good of you to extend the invitation, but somehow I fear I just might not be up to it."
Sheila turned, crossed the room again and shut the door. Then, again standing at his side, she said very deliberately, "Walter, I know you better than you realize. Karen told me everything about you, and I know you fairly well firsthand, don't I? Don't you see, my love? That's just the point. You must feel up to it." Her voice had suddenly taken on great significance, and she squatted before him so that he could not avert her gaze and ran her hand along his leg. "Up to it is the key, Walter. You need a woman desperately-any fool can see thatand you need a woman who understands you. Your sensitivity and loneliness will drive you mad if you don't get the kind of companionship you need. Fortunately, I'm in a position to provide what you need. And I don't mean a lasting relationship either. Won't you just let me give of myself unselfishly this once? I like you, Walter. I'm deeply fond of you, and always have been. Also, I find you extremely masculine and desirable."
Walter allowed himself a bitter smile. "So you're going to play the role of courtesan? Is that it? You're going to be my little one-night-stand whore?"
"If you'll let me, yes."
Totally out of control suddenly, Walter Jordan reached out and crushed this beautiful girl to him in a fierce embrace. "Oh, yes," he cried, the sounds coming from somewhere deep within him. "God, yes ... I'll be there ... I don't know how to ever thank you for this-this incredibly unselfish offer. You do understand my torment, don't you?"
Her hands were running flutteringly against his cheeks as she held him firmly to her heaving breasts. "Yes, Walter, I do. I know it's difficult for you to let yourself go, but come to me tonight and try to be for just a little while as you were with Karen. You must-for your sanity's sake."
Defenseless and loving the feeling of not hiding his feelings anymore, Walter Jordan kissed Sheila's palms hungrily, inhaled the scent of her and assured her he would be at her place, the place that had been Sheila's and Karen's at 6:30 that evening. "You're an angel," he said, and then he must have thanked her twenty times for her insight and understanding into his great need before he let her leave.
When she had left, he composed himself, realizing that although Sheila might provide him with desperately needed physical release tonight that she could never replace Karen Ingra-ham as a permanent partner to share everything.
But she was a deeply sensitive and intelligent girl; she was aware of that herself. God, how fortunate he was that such a girl existed who would meet his immediate need without attaching any commitment on his part! She knew him well enough to know that he was incapable of engaging the services of a whore, that he needed affection and understanding with another em-pathetic human being as well as sex. Yes, Walter Jordan thought, assembling his notes for Contemporary World Poetry and glancing at his watch, if he were a religiously inclined man, he would be compelled to say that Sheila O'Brien was heaven sent.
Walter washed his hands in the faculty men's room, then stood combing his hair and fantasizing-projecting regarding tonight's rendezvous with Sheila. He saw her naked beside him on the bed. He could hear them laughing and spouting poetry as they indulged in their foreplay. Her body was lovely and inviting and her mind was quick, but most of all she was feminine without being whiny or shallow or stupid. Yes, she would be the closest thing he could find to approximate Karen, for he already knew her well and there would not be the necessity of going through the endless "finding out about each other."
"You, sir, are a snob," Walter Jordan said to his reflection in the mirror as he finished combing his hair. "You even carry your crippling snobbishness with you into the bedroom." He shook his head surrenderingly and helplessly at his reflection, noting at the same time that it was true what they said about his being handsome. Then, angrily, slipping into what role he knew not, he chastised his reflection: "Why in the hell didn't you become a plumber or a fisherman or a carpenter or a truck driver, you silly ass hole? You've read a lot of shit, and here you are paralyzed with feelings of fear, failure, and inadequacy. Dr. Ass Hole of the Stanhurst English Department, you are a helpless, ineffective, pseudo-intellectual, weakling, confused nothing. The only good thing about you is, there is no place to go but up! And the trip up is going to involve starting to forget everything you think you know, because you don't know anything of value about anything."
Walter winked at himself, then, squinting, saw for the first time in his life that he wasn't really handsome at all. He looked a little pale, in fact, and his chin was weak and his nose too big. He gave his reflection the finger. "Well, at least you know you're sort of ugly and you're not too smart," he spoke to himself in the mirror. "How many people ever admit that to themselves, eh? Now you might be able to get somewhere! At least it's a start!"
Walter Jordan then placed his briefcase in his right hand and assumed his professorial pose before the mirror. It was the same ugly guy, dumb deep down inside, but he raised the eyebrows slightly and managed to assume his slightly superior expression. Perfect, he thought. Now I'm ready for a lot of abstract, meaningless mumbo jumbo-for the most part it is-from students who will never probably read poetry once they've finished the course. Not a poet in the lot; probably not even an adequate journalist, unless you count that kid Yuri Laf-fin, the Ukrainian Irishman who kept everything remarkably concrete and simple and was surprisingly inspired in his interpretations even if he did read a lot of sex into everything. . .sights, sounds, smells ... all of it was copulation to him. Walter wished all his students were more like Yuri.
Before leaving, Walter decided to urinate in the sink. He unzipped his fly, removed his large penis and pissed at the chrome-plated fixture that shielded the drain. When he had finished, he turned on the faucet so that there would be no telltale trace of piss, then inspected his penis. Well, at least he was pretty well hung and he should be grateful for that. He would really be in bad shape if he were dumb, ugly and had a little prick too. On the other hand, he knew a few men who were handsome, smart, and had big pricks but still walked around feeling depressed all the time. There just didn't seem to be any answer. Well, at least he was going to get laid tonight by a young, beautiful girl he would not have to play too many phony games with and lie to.
Life was a very confusing business, and there just didn't seem to be any answer to anything. Fucking freely with a free-soul female-one who somehow overcame his hang-ups-was a hell of a lot better than reading poetry all the time. Of that he was certain. Although he guessed that it was all right to read the poetry and plays and essays and the rest when not fucking because one could not fuck all the time. Walter gripped his cock in his fist-clutched it meaningfully and set his jaw-as he studied both his cock and set jaw in the mirror. "This, Sheila baby, is for you tonight," he said, imitating Humphrey Bogart and seeing himself inserting his penis into Sheila's eager vagina. "Thank God there are lovely, hang-loose females for timid, tortured males like me! Amen."
Walter replaced his penis inside his pants, resumed his professorial pose and started for the door. He nearly froze in his slightly wet tracks then, for beneath the door to one of the commodes was a pair of wing-tip shoes slightly covered by a pair of gray slacks. As far as he knew, the only professor in the English Department who wore wing-tip shoes was Ambrose "Biff' Cuthbert, the department head.
His inane and obscene monologue, his dingy soliloquy, might prove useful, it occurred to him, when he presented his letter announcing his leave of absence, for certainly "Biff" or anybody else would recognize (encourage) a vacation for the kind of men's room madman he had just portrayed. Flushed with embarrassment, Walter hastily departed and headed for his next class.
By the time he reached the lecture hall, Walter had already decided on the proper story to cover himself when he presented his letter to "Biff:" Yes, it was perfect. He would simply state that he was working on an experimental novel with a madman hero who talks to himself and fantasizes a great deal. In fact, he would state vigorously that he was so engrossed in its Kafka-like, neo-Joycean qualities that he required the summer session to polish the "men's room sequence." He would affect a wild-eyed stare then, and, despite the inconvenience of altering the teaching schedule, "Biff Cuthbert would most certainly grant the leave of absence with his blessing. Then, come the fall, Walter would return to academia without risk as far as his job was concerned, sincehe had that most prized of all professors' goals: tenure. In other words, if the English Department didn't like what he was doing-providing he wasn't ob-viously mad-they could cram it. He was a full professor who had published two definitive books-one on Jonathan Swift and the other on Samuel Pepys-and they would have to take him back unless he was an avowed communist or something just as sticky, like a bomber or a child molester.
The students were ready and waiting as Walter approached the lectern. Gradually, their conversational hum died and Walter began the scheduled discussion of poet Robert Frost, a favorite of his, despite certain avant-garde groups view that he was something of an Establishment "corn ball."
Yuri Laffin raised his hand to comment on the poem Mending Wall, and there followed one of the most incredible interpretations Walter had ever heard. How anybody could find sex in a simple poem about two New Englanders and a wall constructed of boulders separating their property, was beyond Walter Jordan's comprehension. But Yuri elaborated speciously. The narrator and the other man in the poem were both homosexuals, he insisted, and the gap in the wall represented a vagina which the men were anxious to plug up and forget about.-likewise, the "elves" referred to in the poem had to do with promiscuity and venereal disease which was so prevalent in the homophile community.
As Yuri continued, going from one Frost poem to another and hammering home his thesis that Frost was a homosexual obsessed with sex, the entire class broke into hysterical laughter.
For the first time, Walter realized that Yuri Laffin had been "putting him on" all semester. How could he possibly have overlooked this fact before, he wondered. He supposed that first his involvement with Karen, and then his grief following her death, had impaired his hearing, his reasoning. Now, Walter also began laughing and the entire class got out of control, but Walter did not care. Hell, he was getting laid tonight, wasn't he? And he would be taking the summer off. So let them indulge themselves freely, he decided. He realized that, finally, he was free of Karen as he laughed so hard the tears streamed down his cheeks. Yes, the pain in connection with that beautiful girl's tragic death had at last vanished and he was free, free!
There were many interpretations by many students, but Yuri managed to present the concluding one on the poem, Stopping by The Woods on a Snowy Evening, a simple poem in which a man and his horse stop to look at the snow-covered woods. Yuri contended that the trees in the woods represented tempting females trying to lure the man to indulge in sexual intercourse. The man, though, instead wishes to indulge in bestiality and make love to his horse. "It is this inner struggle," Yuri Laffin said forcefully, "which has caused the man to stop and indulge in soul searching. The lovely females are a temptation, true, but the narrator is nearly overcome with an insatiable lust for his dumb but faithful mare. The line, 'But I have promises to keep,' drives home the fact that the man has promised himself again and again that he will mate with his horse at the first opportunity. What better place than this deserted spot in the woods?"
When the laughter had diminished, Walter Jordan thanked his students for their close analysis of this Nobel prize-winning poet and their most interesting analyses of his work. He suggested, however, that their written examination papers display a somewhat different approach from that employed today in class.
Very quietly, the students filed out then until only Yuri Laffin remained. He was a tall, handsome lad with wild turquoise-colored eyes and kinky, black hair. He dressed as though he were a farmhand: patches on his denims, the red kerchief in the rear pocket, the sweatband about the forehead, all of it.
"Doctor Jordan," he said humbly, "I just want you to know that I have a great deal of respect for Robert Frost as a poet and for you as a professor. I sincerely mean that. It's just that-well, a lot of us have been sort of trying to keep your spirits up since-since Karen Ingra-ham's death. I-I'm sorry if I've been getting too carried away these past few weeks. Forgive me. It won't happen again."
He smiled respectfully, nodded, then left.
Walter Jordan stood for a long time at the lectern. So his secret affair with Karen had not been so secret after all, he thought. He shook his head. He had even deceived himself where his love life had been concerned. Your head has been up your rectum for a very long time indeed, professor, he thought. And then, genuinely touched by his students' efforts to ease his pain and grief of these past months, he gathered his papers and left the room. Tonight there would be lovemaking with Sheila. That was all that mattered.
CHAPTER TWO
Walter Jordan arrived at Sheila O'Brien's just a little after 6:30. He pushed the doorbell and waited, studying critically the small bouquet of violets he held in his well-manicured hand. To his surprise, Sheila was wearing a lavender shortie nightgown when she came to the door. She quickly escorted him inside, made the appropriate "Ouus" and "Ahhs" over the flowers, then insisted that he take his shoes off and recline on the sofa while she finished with the Beef Stroganoff.
Walter was pleased that it was not painful visiting this apartment where he had passed so many pleasant and exciting nights with the late Karen Ingraham. His collar open, the tie pulled down, his coat and shoes off, he lay stretched out leisurely on the sofa and scanned the room. Even the familiar hurricane lamp, with the candle flickering inside, on the cork coffee table beside him, did not distress him. A few of Karen's knickknacks were missing from the wall-to-wall bookshelf, true, but this did not bother him.
He was glad that Sheila, moving about in the kitchen in her see-through gown was genuinely turning him on. For a long time, just after Karen's death, he had feared that no female could ever arouse him again.
"This is awfully good of you, Sheila," he called. The kitchen was merely an extension of the living room, blocked only partially by a breakfast-type bar, and he could see Sheila perfectly. "I mean, I can't thank you enough. That nightgown, though, it's lovely-but don't you think it's a bit heavy-handed?"
"I know what you require, Walter," she replied in a musical voice, "so just lie back, feast your eyes and relax."
"Yes, I think you do, dear ... you're the perfect seductress."
"Just wait, Walter," she said, winking at him exaggeratedly. "You just wait." she was seasoning something in a huge, orange-colored pot, tasting it, frowning, then seasoning it some more. "Oh, I understand your Contemporary World Poetry class was much fun today," she said.
"Yep, it was pretty wild. I wish somebody had taped it. That Yuri Laffin should be a comedian or something." Feeling totally relaxed, Walter arched his back, stretching, and yawned. "It seems there aren't any secrets here at Stan-hurst. You know about what happened in my class today ... my students know about Karen and me ... I suppose tomorrow everyone will know about our little rendezvous here tonight."
Sheila came into the living, room and stood before him. The sight of her high, firm breasts and the hills and valleys of her delectable young body made his breath come short and he felt a tingling sensation in his groin. "They won't hear anything about it from me," she said, smiling coyly. She titlted her head then. "You know, I really like you, Walter. I've always liked you. At one time, in fact, I even wanted you for myself. Karen and I talked about it, though and I agreed to leave you alone. But now I have you all to myself."
"Thank God," Walter said, wanting to reach out and crush her to him right then. "Bless you, my child-you've spared me the humiliation of rape charges."
"I've never been raped before," Sheila said, brushing her blonde hair from her forehead, then standing posing with her left elbow high. "But if you'd like to experience it, go ahead. You have my permission to rape me ... anything."
Walter Jordan swallowed hard. "Say, can we eat soon-get that out of the way so we can go back to your room?"
"Very well," Sheila said, blowing him a kiss. "I will now serve the salads. Don't move.
We'll eat right there on the coffee table. Just stay nice and comfy and-and horny, Walter."
"Wonderful," Walter said. "You're driving me crazy, and I love it. I thought this might be the wrong place for us tonight. I was afraid there would be too much of Karen here and it would ruin everything." He nodded, glancing about the dimly lit room. "She is here, but it's all right. I don't think I'd care to see her room, though. Did her parents take her things from there, too."
"Uh-huh," Sheila said. "Everything. There's just a bed with no bedding in there. The door is shut, so don't worry. Also, we both know that Karen would approve of this tonight, don't we?"
That thought had not occurred to Walter before. "Yes-yes, I'm sure she would," Walter said. "She was a wonderful girl who understood everything. You're wonderful too. Your inviting me here tonight means more to me than I could ever explain."
Sheila brought the salads out then and set on the cork coffee table. There was a pepper grinder and a matching wood salt shaker. Then she brought out the plates of Stroganoff. "I might as well bring everything at once," she said. "The Stroganoffs too hot anyway." She sat cross-legged on the floor across from him. He got off the couch and sat on the floor too.
He told her about his leave of absence and what he planned to do and she said she thought getting away was a good idea for him. "I'll be glad to see you when you return in the fall though, Walter," she said. "Unless you're secretly looking for another Karen and find her and never come back."
"No, I don't think so," he said. "If that were all there was to it, I'd probably stay right here and try to get on with you."
"I know that," Sheila said. "You know there's always a place here for you. You're special to me. Karen and I talked lots about you." She reached out and patted his cheek. "You're a brilliant man," she said, "and one of the nicest I ever knew."
"I've always liked you too," he said. "Believe me, I've always known you were there. You're not the kind of girl a man doesn't notice. You have everything, Sheila. You have everything Karen had, which was a lot ... but I was with Karen. You understand?"
"I understand everything. Go ahead and eat and then we'll make love. I've wanted you for a long time, and tonight I know you want me too ... but there was Karen. Now it's different. She's gone and we've accepted it finally, and so we can just make each other happy for tonight."
"Yes," Walter said, his heart thumping hard in his chest. "For tonight." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand hard as he feasted his eyes on the beauty and willingness of her. "Probably you're even more beautiful than Karen," he said. "You know that?"
She didn't answer.
They spoke for quite a while about Karen In-graham and her drug problem, getting her completely out of the way-once and for all. They both seemed to feel that talking about her was necessary, as though some part of her might still be loitering in the apartment and demanded not so much a tribute from those who had been closest to her, as a mere mention of the fact that she had existed, was cared for deeply and now was missed but not missed so terribly that the people left behind were crippled emotionally or in any way impaired by her death. Karen, they both agreed, was the kind of girl who would not want her friends to lead dreary existences simply because she had made the ultimate mistake.
Whether her overdose of Seconal was accidental or intentional, both Sheila and Walter agreed, was irrelevant. She had been on drugs long before Walter had met her and her race to self-destruction was in no way affected by Walter. He gave her the happiest days of her life, Sheila said, but nobody could have diverted her from her destination.
"At the risk of sounding metaphysical," Sheila said, "I think that Karen might have been suicidal from birth. I talked to her about a lot of things. She simply could not accept life-reality-as it was-even when it was good. Making the best possible grades in college, starring m drama productions, her music, her dancing-none of it meant that much to her. Somehow, in her own mind, she was always falling short. The entire world could have been bowing at her feet, and Karen would have simply said, like the song, 'Is that all there is?' "
Sheila shrugged. "So she sought drugs, managed to excel despite the awful withdrawals she endured. And then to experience the absolute peak, the ultimate, the very peak of things-whatever those are-she took too many pills one night. She was perfectly 'in character' right to the end." Sheila was beginning to cry. She caught herself and sat up straighter, so that her dark nipples thrust even more invitingly against her near-transparent gown. "Well, at least she had you, Walter," Sheila said, smiling now. "You meant everything to her ... you'll never know."
"Maybe I do," Walter said, now catching himself too and deciding to change the subject.
"Let's see, you have one more year, and then you'll be off teaching foreign languages somewhere, correct?"
"Correct." Sheila got up, took the dishes to the kitchen in two trips and then joined Walter on the couch. "But there's no perfectionism in me. I just want to do the best I can and be happy. I hope there will be a man very much like you, and children, and I'll live each day to the fullest and accept things as they are."
"Easily said," Walter teased, running his hand over her knees. "But I think you may just be the type to bring it off. "Someone is going to be very lucky, dear. You have an 'old soul.' You see much and you care and, at least for me tonight, you are an angel."
"I do care, and you're an angel too-a male angel with hooves and horns. Shall we go back to the bedroom and cuddle? I'll leave the music on-the classical one you like-and we'll lie on the cool sheets with the candle flickering back there. All right?"
Walter shook his head. "You're incredible, Sheila," he said. "Really a rarity. I don't think you know how rare and precious you are."
"I'm a whore-angel is what I am-that was one of Karen's favorite phrases."
"I know. I remember," Walter said.
Sheila stood up and held out her hands. "Come on, Dr. Horny-hoof, the whore-angel wants you back where she can do her thing."
"You're an altruist. I think you should join the Peace Corps," Walter said, his erection already beginning. He stared down at himself. It had been a long time since he had lusted for any girl. "I don't deserve this," he said, "especially on a full stomach."
"There's no rush," Sheila said. "We'll let the Stroganoff digest while we talk and then we'll just fool around or do whatever we want. Let's take all our clothes off here, okay?"
"You're an aggressive angel," Walter said, quickly undressing. "I'm the male. I'm supposed to be giving the directions. Maybe I want to undress you myself. Don't get too cocksure of yourself, or I may just walk out on you."
They both stood naked now, grinning at each other. "Go ahead and leave then," Sheila said. "Do whatever you feel is right." Her full lips widened into a crooked little smile.
And then Walter did not find anything amusing at all. The sight of this naked girl before him drove every fear and feeling of despair and defeat he had felt these past few months totally from his mind. "Sheila," was all he could say as he reached for her and held her hard, his entire body trembling. "Sheila ... Sheila."
"Yes, my darling," she said. "It's all right
... Karen's gone, but I'm here for tonight to be yours, precious. I told you that I've wanted you for a long time. We are supposed to be together-at least once-and I think that's why you're here. I love you in a very special way, Walter. I probably need to be with you-to make love to you-even more than you need me."
"That's not possible," Walter gasped, his hands running from her smooth shoulders, then down over her rounded hips. He pressed his lips hard against hers, gulped hungrily, and ran his fingers through her hair and over her cheek. Finally, his erection pressed hard against her stomach-feeling as if it might go off like some elaborate Fourth of July fireworks there if he didn't control himself the dammed-up emotions Walter had controlled for so long burst free and he began babbling about his great need for her.
They began gulping greedily at each other's mouth then, gulping and babbling at the same time as Walter's hands found Sheila's breasts. Not roughly, but not gently either, Walter's hands squeezed and kneaded her engorged mounds, palmed and teased the erect nipples. His hands seemed to be everywhere-pulling and grasping and tugging at her delicious body with a considerate but desperate need. It was as though, just for tonight, he had been granted the right to make love to Karen once again, although he did not for an instant confuse this girl within his arms with the deceased Karen.
She held his stout erection firmly in her hand as their tongues stabbed furiously at each other. Her hand was lace and silk and clenching pleasure-fury on his erection and testicles. "I-I love to touch you ... to grab it and hold it this way," she breathed, "and wait for it to probe wherever it wants to go. I've waited for you a long time, Walter."
"And I for you!" he gasped. And in a way it was true. He palmed the lovely contour of her stomach now and reached farther, finally touched her downy mound. Her fingers clenched harder against his prick. "Oh, God," Walter panted, "I need you tonight as I never needed any woman!"
"I know it, love," Sheila cried. "I know it and it's beautiful. It's beautiful because I have waited and I need you too, Walter. Oh, let's go back to my room and fuck now ... let's go back and cuddle and fuck and cuddle and kiss each other all over!"
Walter knew that she was right. His pulsing organ that had lain flat against her tummy, sticking up well above her navel, had gushed lubricant all over her and was now even dribbling down over his testicles. He reached down now and grasped her beneath her knees with one arm and beneath her shoulders with the other.
He had not carried a woman to a bedroom in a long time, even a semi-petite one, and he staggered slightly as he went down the short hallway to Sheila's bedroom. There, he spread her tenderly on the bed, then half sitting, half reclining beside her, he pressed his chest to hers so that their nipples touched and held her hair and cheeks with both hands while he kissed her deeply and soulfully. Her arms were about his neck and her hands ran encouragingly and needfully alternately through his hair and up and down his back to the small of his back. He palmed her breasts and laved her ears and cheeks and neck with his tongue. He forced her arms above her head and lapped at her armpits too. "Ohhhh," she moaned, "That's lovely ... no man ever did that to me before ... hold me close now, Walter!"
Walter wanted to press his organ to her also, but he wanted to suck on her breasts for a long time. He pressed both of her breasts together, so that he could try to gulp at both nipples simultaneously, but it didn't work quite right and he found himself concentrating on first the left, then the right, drawing each nipple individually gently but firmly into his mouth and twirling his tongue about the nipples.
As he nibbled lightly with his teeth, he let one hand descend to trace the outline of her entire body-the flare of hip, her inner thighs, her rounded tummy and, finally, her silky cunt. He fingered tenderly her expanded clitoris, gathering love juice from her mercury-slick chasm to spread about her most sensitive flesh nub. She began pumping involuntarily with her hips then and sighing, moaning like a breeze in a long tunnel. "Ohhhhhh, it's soooo marvelous, Walter," she sighed wind-like, jacking his flesh stalk now as she tossed her head in abandon and reveled in the feel of his fingers working against the top of her cunt.
There was no fury or even pent-up aggression in their writhing, just a sort of urgent swelling, cresting that kept on mounting in intensity. And then Walter knew he had to drink from all of her. He removed his tongue from her hollow-cheeked mouth and began descending, once again pausing for a long time at her nipples and then down over her stomach-all the time maintaining the steady side-to-side stroking of her clit. When he reached the furry texture of her mound, he lifted her by the buttocks so that her bottom rested firmly against his chest.
Elevated that way, her legs bent at the knees and draped down over his back, he gave her great kisses right between the legs. Then, gradually, his conventional kisses became wet, wetter, wetter still until he was licking and lapping and laving up and down the length of her gushing vagina. Her head still tossed and her arms were above her head as she allowed him to tug her this way and that, do anything he pleased as she began to pump her cunt at his face.
Walter's face was wet from chin to forehead and he gasped great gulps of cunt and air. His left hand clutched desperately at her ass cheeks while his right hand moved in a firm, circular motion against her furry pelvis. "Go ahead and come!" he cried then, knowing that she had almost reached the heights. "It's all right ... there's lots of time. Y-you said s-so yourself, so go ahead and c-come this way now!"
It took no more coaxing than that, for Sheila was nearly hysterical by now. She increased the speed of her hip thrusts, clutched him by both cheeks, and wailed pitifully up at the ceiling. Good, Walter thought. He loved to see a woman get selfish in the sex act. If she wanted to come, why should she wait? They knew each other too well to play "the-man-must-come-first." If she wanted to come, well, go ahead and let her. He had waited a long time, but so probably had she, and he could wait a little while longer.
Her orgasm was a beautiful thing. She spasmed and shuddered and wailed uncontrollably for what seemed a long time. When the tension had left her body at last, she slumped and lay with her arm across her forehead. Quickly, Walter scooted up beside her, held her close to him, and rubbed her back from buttocks to neck as she continued to shudder and sob. Her head was buried between his shoulder and neck, and it was a long time before the last of her body spasms ceased.
"But you, poor darling," she sighed, "you're still all eager and I-I haven't satisfied you."
Walter forced a laugh as he went on massaging her neck and head now. "Don't worry about it, dear. I've waited a long time. It comes and goes ... it will come again. I'm glad you came so well. It was good for you, wasn't it?" Walter had never been able to avoid some sort of interrogation regarding the female orgasm. No matter how subtle or short his questions, it seemed absolutely impossible to avoid some little question as to its quality. It wasn't that he was trying to prove his skill as a lover or his masculinity anymore-he'd gotten over that a long time ago-but he simply had to know. He supposed it was an affliction common to all men. He did not know or care to analyze it. All he knew was that, even though he had sworn not to ask a woman about it, he nevertheless always asked.
"It was perfect," Sheila said. "Really great. I love to come that way sometimes. Sometimes not, but sometimes I do. I'm glad you told me to go ahead. I didn't want to be greedy or selfish, but I really didn't want to stop." She gave him a loud kiss on the neck. "Ummmm ... thank you. I'll make love to you pretty soon."
"No rush," Walter said. "Take your time. I loved eating you, Sheila. What is it they say about more blessed to give than receive? You taste good, like a girl should. You just give me a call any time you want your pussy done that way. I won't even care if I come."
"All men say that," Sheila said. "It's a lure-a ploy."
"Really . . .all men?"
"Well, a lot of them.-You'd be surprised."
"No, I guess I'm not surprised. I suppose we would all love to think we have some sort of secret love weapon-men', I mean. I guess everybody loves to dine on pussy, and I suppose all men do a pretty good job of it. It's such a pleasant task."
"Well, not all men do a splendid job-heck, I've even met a couple who won't do it-but you might say it's a pretty widespread practice."
"Yes, I suppose so. So is the sucking of the old cock."
They both laughed.
"People just insist on doing everything possible with their sex organs-play with them, stick them everywhere, suck on 'em, everything. I wouldn't have it any other way."
"We're not being very intellectual tonight," Sheila said. "We haven't once referred to a poem or anything literary, have we?"
Her hand was moving steadily on his hard-on still. Walter took her other hand and placed it so that it massaged his balls at the same time she jacked on him. "Screw literature," he said. "Listen, would I be imposing if I asked to come? I mean, it doesn't have to happen this second, but I feel a strong urge to do something with this thing."
"I understand," Sheila said. "I'm nice and rested now. Come up here and rest your back against the headboard, will you? I want to kiss it for a long time. You can look across at us in the mirror there if you Want."
Trembling, Walter obeyed. Sitting that way, he had made a lap for her to put her head on, and she rested her head on his thigh and began kissing and jacking up and down on his hard-on as she stared at it admiringly. After what seemed a long time, when he was absolutely as hard as he would ever be in his life, she encircled the head of his prick with her lips and began nursing up and down while her tongue tip swirled and bathed his super-sensitive organ.
At first, he thought his eyes might go through the top of his head. It had been so long, and the heat of her mouth was incredibly hot, like a furnace, and she knew just how to fondle him with both hands as she sucked. Staring in the mirror at her hollow cheeks moving up and down, stopping only from time to time to withdraw his shaft and give the head a big kiss or remove an unwanted hair, he found himself in a continuing state of pleasure that approached insanity. He wondered how long a person could bear such a sensation. He supposed that somewhere, sometime, somebody had tried to answer this very, question and now resided in a mental institution.
Knowing that he would reach an orgasm in a matter of seconds, Walter began massaging Sheila's lovely hanging breasts and teasing the nipples with one hand while he fingered her clit with the other. Immediately, she responded to the stimulation by increasing both her tempo and pressure on his prick. She apparently wasn't sure just what he had in mind, but she was willing to go all the way and let him go ahead and come in her mouth if he wanted.
After all, he and Karen had done everything sexual that was possible to do and the girls had been intimates who confided in each other.
But what he wanted to do was withdraw his prick from her mouth at the last instant, delay his transfer of prick to cunt long enough to restore his staying power, and then fuck her slowly and deliciously for as long as he could last-until they both came. He wanted to spear her with his hard-on, not hurting, of course, but be up there inside her with her smooth legs about him as he held her ass in his palms and massaged her entire body with his and played with her most beautiful of tits. Yes, that's what he wanted to do, and so he eased the labor of her mouth to a halt and they both knew then they were going to fuck.
He did not delay the transfer of his organ from her mouth to her cunt for as long as he had planned, for after all it was cold outside, baby, and then too, he had never been able to delay such a transfer for nearly as long as he imagined he would be able to. In fact, the transfer probably required about two seconds. And then he was there.
Pushing steadily up inside Sheila, his mind was free of everything but fucking this most feminine female. That was the beauty of fucking ... it was an all-consuming and totally dedicated thing. There was only warmth-great warmth and juiciness and the ever-present need to push onward to the ultimate reward.
Sheila's moves were incomparable, although Walter had never thought of comparing one female's love moves with another's anyway. Her inner thighs brushed lightly, then firmly, against his hips and rib cage and she had that most delightful of all lovemaking qualities in a female. She was pliable. She took her need boldly, but she remained female-fundamentally the fuckee rather than the fucker. "Walterrrrr ... ummmm," she kept chanting as they rolled and set the tempo of their mutual desire. He told her a great deal, but he had no idea of what he said, except that it referred to his need for her and that she was meeting that need perfectly ... all the rest were variations on this theme.
Walter reached a plateau, and then, knowing he would last as long as she wanted, Sheila got on top and they made love in that position for several minutes. On top, Sheila manipulated his testicles, reaching behind her as she rode his rod hard and begged him to "stick me harder, love" as she fed her breast into his mouth with her free hand.
In the end, Walter was on top again, stabbing frenziedly while her breath-bursts exploded in his ear. He clutched her buttocks fiercely and held her neck in the crook of his arm and when she said, long and trailingly, "I'm there ... coming now, Walter ... NOW ... Come with meeeeee ... Pleeeeeze!" he drove harder still and finished just seconds after her. There were flashing colors ... total release.
Walter did not think of Karen at all. He had not thought of anyone but Sheila. For the first time in months, he held a lovely female close as close could be and drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
The head of Stanhurst's English Department, Ambrose "Biff' Cuthbert, accepted Walter Jordan's decision to take the summer off and work on his "experimental novel" with a surprising degree of understanding. "So you're going to depart from your erudite and scholarly works of the past and give us a bit of fiction, eh?" were his exact words. "Very well, Walter, I don't think there will be any difficulty in rearranging the teaching schedule. Have a restful and productive summer, Walter, and we'll see you in the fall. Uh-don't overdo now, Walt. I mean, don't strain yourself in any way. Be nice and relaxed and fulfilled when you return."
Walter Jordan glanced down at the same wing-tipped shoes he had observed that day in the faculty men's room and said, "Oh, no, I shall merely work at a steady pace and enjoy myself, Biff."
And that's all there had been to it. Walter had departed in his tomato soup-colored Volvo the day after final exams and now resided in a clean and modest studio apartment on the street level just one half block from the beach.
The first day of his stay in Venice he had done much walking, appraising the area and reassuring himself that he had decided upon the right location for his casual inspection of the mores and customs of today's youth. He was delighted to see that Venice would suit his needs perfectly. True, it had obviously passed its prime as the "hippie" center of the Southland, but he could tell that there was still much for one to experience providing he was willing to keep his eyes and ears open.
On the second day, Walter awakened to a beautiful, sunlit day. He showered and shaved quickly, then took his coffee on his little front porch while listening to one of the many albums he had purchased the day before. He listened to The Mothers of Invention on his little stereo record player, tapped his fingers rhythmically and analyzed the lyric. The rhymes were a bit gauche, he concluded, but the sociological message the words imparted struck him as pertinent. Yes, there was the inevitable age-old hunger of man for woman-awfully primitively stated-but there were references to the need to make this a better world to live in by abandoning war, cleaning up the environment etc. He decided that The Mothers of Invention were, for the most part, acceptable amusement for the youth of today, even if they lacked some finesse and subtlety. "Bold," he said aloud. "Bold and-ultra-energetic and intense are these Mothers of Invention."
Walter Jordan boiled two eggs, listened to the album once more, then decided to stroll about the center of Venice again-perhaps even take in the beach and indulge in a bit of girl watching. He wanted to get something going as soon as possible. He wanted to get involved. He realized that he was a stuffy thirty-six years of age, but the sooner he found himself a Karen In-graham, or even a Sheila, the better off he would be. I would even be willing to smoke a little grass, he decided, as he set out for his walk in his plaid shorts, white tennis shoes and short-sleeved, faded blue sweat shirt. He hoped he did not resemble in any way the Hulot of the film Mr. Hulot's Holiday that he had seen many years ago. He did not want to appear awkward or foolish or clumsy in any way. He did not want to appear "out of touch." He wanted to be "with it."
As he strolled the Coast Highway past the knickknack shops-"head shops" as youngsters called them-he kept a sharp eye out for hippies he might entice into some sort of conversation. Many "Long-hairs" passed him, just as they had the day before, but they seemed so bound up in themselves or "high" that they didn't even seem to notice him. Hell, maybe I was better off at Stanhurst, he thought. At least I got to communicate with youth. Here, perhaps I am a laughable anachronism ... an old man!
Walter had coffee in two coffee houses, but, except for the bare necessities of ordering or commenting on the lovely weather, he was unable to strike up a conversation. He avoided the bars, for yesterday he had drunk three beers in three of the local lounges and deduced that nothing was happening of import in those places except baseball on TV and the worst brand of "Smalltalk."
Walter did manage to strike up a conversation in an art gallery with the owner. The chap was bearded and wore sandals and seemed highly intelligent, but the truth was he merely saw Walter as a potential buyer and when Walter let him know that he wasn't truly interested in purchasing any of the hyper-modern, surrealistic, abstract, "pop" art, neo-doodle-or whatever classification they were-paintings, the youth promptly ignored him and wandered off, to the back room. Walter did manage to learn however, that there were poetry-reading sessions several times each week in a beachfront coffee house not far from his cottage, and he made a mental note to attend as soon as possible.
The morning passed unprofitably and Walter finally ate lunch in a vegetarian restaurant near the Santa Monica-Venice dividing line not far from the world-famous drug rehabilitation center, Synanon. As he ate his entree of eggplant and munched on carrot sticks, celery, various roots and a soybean patty, he got the impression that many of those about him would soon be checking into Synanon. The majority of those sitting at the tables around him seemed wild-eyed and unable to talk on a single subject for more than a few seconds. They have to be out of their minds, he thought. It occurred to him that he might not be able to find companions who were drug free enough for him to communicate with them. Perhaps his visit here was foolish after all. Perhaps he would simply pass the days alone and rejected-a member of an older generation who had dreamed impossible, childish dreams, and who deserved to be rewarded with laughter, ridicule, or worse, complete denial of his presence.
Despondent, Walter Jordan went home to take a nap and plan some sort of attack upon this community of "hippies" that, might yield him the companionship he longed for. It was true that he might be expecting too much too soon, but it also occurred to him that if he couldn't link up with somebody soon he might very well be in for one of the most boring and unrewarding periods of his life! He took his nap and dreamed of maidens and centaurs.
Fortunately, that same evening. The Gremlin, a coffee house on the beachfront, was open, and the poster on the door announced that there was to be a reading of poetry at 7:00. Walter could hardly contain himself as he glanced at his watch. It was now just a little after 6:00 and that meant that within an hour he would at last be in his own element! Literature! Literature and inept and stumbling, would-be poets he could advise and guide! Beautiful girls who would listen to his professorial judgment. Yes, he fantasized, he would introduce these stilted dilettantes, these novices and newcomers, to the nuances of the English language. He would take them under his horny wing and set up a sort of commune of free love and poetic research!
Joyous at the possibilities, Walter walked the beachfront to kill time until 7:00 and congratulated himself on deciding on Venice as the site for his research. He walked briskly now, just as he had confidently strode the grounds at Stanhurst. He breathed in great gulps of ocean air as he walked and smiled broadly at the passersby. In his mind he had regained some sort of status. He was, after all, Professor Walter Jordan, Ph.D.-a published author. With a little skill he could perhaps manipulate the poetry reading at The Gremlin into a kind of night course. Yes, perfect, he thought: Contemporary Poetry at The Gremlin, three units, MWF ... attendance by permission of the instructor only. Hah! And he would allow only the most delectable and intelligent and sensitive young ladies in the land to take the fucking course!
Walter could hardly wait for the coffee house to begin the poetry reading session. He debated whether or not to go back to The Gremlin and wait with the three or four early arrivals who were already there, but he was too excited to sit. No, he thought, I want to make a grand entrance, attract attention and, Byron-like, enter with some sort of flourish.
The breeze coming in off the ocean was delightful and the beach was practically deserted. Walter sat on a concrete wall and gazed out at the horizon. The swells were darkening, ominous, even fearful, but the sky still glowed, brightening and lending pastel color to the lingering cloud strewings. Some of the cloud formations even suggested copulating couples and Walter hastily committed to memory a quickly improvised bit of free verse in case anybody called upon him tonight. Yes, he thought, finally, sure that his little pseudo-creation-his cloud-fuck poem-would be well received if he got the chance to deliver it. He had never attended such a poetry reading, however. Did they request contributions? He did not know. Still, he was ready with fairly well-polished lines that posed as significant, defiant, meaningful a blending of nature with animal lust. Oh, my ... this was going to be child's play for him. Duck soup. "Limbs rising high ... horizon bound in the soft sperm-glow ... O trust the spewing of the cumulus ... " he orated to the surf, practicing the trembling-voiced delivery of his little poem..."For us, it's air-splashed lust ... Ordained a pleasure dome ... And Goethe's girth has no dominion...."
Walter Jordan broke off, chuckling at his own inanity and ingenuity. Shit, he thought. I'll throw everything at 'em-literary allusion, the whole bag of tricks and pseudo-profundities. Giggling quietly, a little madly, he then sat staring out at the darkening sea and waiting anxiously for Gremlin time at 7:00.
Walter Jordan was surprised as hell by goings-on at The Gremlin. He slinked in and quietly sat down. At first, the place was pretty much as he imagined it would be-just a gathering of unconventionally and rather sloppily dressed youths sipping wine, coffee, and beer.
But as he listened to the poetry being read, he was astounded at the quality, strength, vigor and significance of the verse. There were perhaps fifty people in the place, all sitting in the dimly lit room with candles glowing on small tables with checkered tablecloths. There were as many girls as boys, although they did not seem to be particularly distributed in "couples."
These youths knew poetry! And what they didn't know, they made up for with spontaneity, originality and honesty. Walter cringed at the thought of the nonsense verse he had created while staring at the ocean and listened intently. True, there was much obscenity and cursing in the poetry, but it was as the language of the day and it spoke out against the crimes of today and cried out for understanding, tolerance, lack of "bullshit." There was an abundance of "fucks" and "shits" and similar words, but the message of the writings was profound and powerful, despite a certain lack of technique. Walter found himself applauding heartily and trembling with excitement at the discovery of these dedicated and liberated intellectually inclined youths.
And the females were beyond belief! He wished that Karen Ingraham were here to savor the atmosphere with him. She would have fit in perfectly. Bra less, long-haired, unpretentious, many of the girls read poetry so direct and simple yet true and beautiful that it brought tears to Walter's eyes. What a discovery! Walter thought, applauding after a particularly lovely poem by a girl named Audrey Court-land. As young Audrey sat down beside several of her friends up front, Walter decided to speak with her as soon as the readings were finished. She was lovely, enchanting, and he wanted desperately to get to know her and read more of her poetry. Also, she seemed unattached to any male.
As soon as the readings had concluded, Walter went straight to her and introduced himself. "I have had a great deal of experience with poetry," he said, feeling clumsy. He didn't want to get into the professor business, but he wanted Audrey to know that he wasn't just some thrill-seeking, dirty old man out looking for a piece of "young tail." Or was he? "Yes, I've been associated with many poets and I-I was thoroughly impressed with most of the work read here. Yours, in particular, impressed me with its freshness and honesty. May I buy you a glass of wine? Coffee? I really would like to speak to you."
"Sure," Audrey said. "I'd be delighted. I'm happy that you liked my poems. I'm not published or anything, but I'm really impressed when someone older is able to respond to what I'm trying to say."
Walter ordered a bottle of Chianti and they sat down by the window. "Would any of your friends like some wine?" he inquired.
Audrey called to two other girls who came over. She introduced them as her roommates. They declined the invitation pleasantly, saying they were with other friends. One's name was Sheryl Atlee, who was a brunette of about twenty, Walter guessed, and the other was a red-haired beauty-Pattie West-about the same age. Audrey seemed about twenty-three, a little older than the other girls, and far more beautiful, sensitive and mature. His heart was beating harder as he took in her deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. She had a way of tilting her head to the side as she listened, her mouth slightly open, revealing perfectly white and straight teeth, that reminded him of Karen Ingraham. Walter devoured her with his eyes, and her purring, but not coquettish voice was like music to his ears. Her eyes were remarkably clear, too, and it occurred to him that she could not be a heavy user of drugs. As for her two friends, he could not be certain. Both Sheryl and Pattie had a heavy-lidded, somewhat glazed look in their eyes.
"I can't tell you how exciting it is for me to stumble onto a group like this," Walter said, impetuously grabbing her hand across the table. She did not pull her hand away, but stared directly into his gaze. "I mean, to find such interesting people-and you a truly beautiful girl-and all of you genuinely interested in poetry-why, it's-it's a miracle! Where have I been? To think what I've been missing!"
"May I ask what you do?" Audrey asked. "I never ask people, but you said you were somehow associated with poetry and I'm curious."
Walter could not help but lower his gaze to Audrey's firm beautiful breasts that poked so braless and free at her white tee-shirt and held the Levi's jacket she wore at a good distance from the rest of her chest. At first he felt guilty, but then, in this most free and honest atmosphere, he wondered why he should attempt to disguise his honest admiration-yes, even lust-for this most beautiful of females. After all, she was a poetess! She would understand everything! It wasn't as if he were talking to some silly sales clerk or something.
Finally, gathering his thoughts, Walter decided to be honest from the start. He explained exactly why he had come to Venice, that he was a professor of English literature from Stanhurst, and that he was lonely. It turned out to be precisely the right thing to say, for Audrey was most favorably impressed. "Stanhurst," she repeated. "Hey, I could have been in one of your classes, do you realize that?" She gripped his hand more firmly. "I finally ended up at Berkeley, but I almost went to Stanhurst. My folks wanted me to go there-you know, status and all that."
"Oh, I wish you had come to Stanhurst," Walter found himself saying, speaking in the same youthful cadence and manner as Audrey. He filled her wine glass.
"This is really something," Audrey said. "An honest-to-God, real-life professor here in our midst. Fascinating. And to think you didn't find our poetry-well, imperfect, crude, childish." She shook her head. "I like you, Dr. Jordan." She emphasized the word doctor.
"I think I'd rather not advertise the fact that I'm a professor," Walter said. "It could inhibit people. I-I wouldn't want that. I just want to have a marvelous summer and be myself, whatever that is, okay?"
"Okay," Audrey agreed. "Secrecy, eh? I love this ... this is lots of fun. A person could write a book about this, right? Are you writing a book?"
"Who knows?" Walter said. "I just may do that. Who knows?"
They both laughed then and clasped all four hands in the center of the table. Suddenly Walter felt as if he were twenty.
"God, you're lovely, Audrey," Walter said impulsively, "What an adorable female mind, body, even your bones! Yes, I think I even adore your bones."
Audrey crinkled her nose. "My bones? I don't think any man ever said that to me before. Loving a person's bones must be symbolic or something, huh?"
"Yes, I suppose so," Walter said, still staring directly into her eyes. "I'm not bothering to analyze anything. I don't know. I just felt like saying it, so I said it."
"I'll bet your students like you," Audrey said, gripping his hands harder. "I'll bet you're a good teacher."
"Right now, I don't know what I am," he said. "Listen, is there somewhere we can be alone? How about my place? We could go to my place and listen to music and talk-just the two of us. I've rented a cottage. It's small but very nice and I know you'd like it. Please come with me?"
She swallowed and Walter could see the pulse beat on the jugular vein of her slender neck. "Yes, Walter," she said, swallowing. "I'd love to. Let me tell my roommates. I'll be right back, then we'll go. Wait here for me."
As Audrey walked from him, Walter felt the way he'd felt the first time he had met Karen Ingraham. He didn't care if he was a dirty old man. If a woman turned you on, well then, she turned you on. There was no reason to fight it. Life was too short for analyzing everything to death and ruining it. Young women and older ones had turned him on at one time or other. The last two-Karen and now Audrey-just happened to be young. So what? He inhaled deeply, appreciatively, as he watched the natural swing of Audrey's hips as she walked to her friends. Perfect, he thought, and effortless. Her hips moved the way a female's were supposed to move-without her forcing a "sexy" walk.
She chatted briefly with both Sheryl and Pattie, then returned and stood smiling before him. "Okay," she said, offering her hand. "Let's go to your place, professor. Sheryl and Pattie are going to some shindig with Lance and Gerald that I don't care about anyway. Unless you're feeling social?"
"Oh, no," Walter said, standing. "I told you ... I just want to talk and be with you."
She beamed, a little girl's smile totally without guile. She liked being liked and needed and Walter found her expression and manner delightful. Outside, they walked south down the wide cement walkway that fronted the ocean. It was dark, but the sky was only partially overcast and they could see many stars and a quarter moon to the southwest. Walter took her hand and they ambled leisurely without speaking until they came to a small grocery store.
"I'll get some wine," Walter said.
"Fine," Audrey said. "That would be nice."
Inside, Walter selected a bottle of Liebfraumilch and a bottle of Burgundy. The selection was not good. Audrey bought a handful of penny caramels, too, and they both chewed the candy, talking with their mouths full as they walked in the damp, breezy darkness.
"You mentioned a Lance and a Gerald," Walter said. "Are they poets, too? Are they regular boyfriends of Sheryl and Pattie?" What he really wanted to know was whether or not Audrey had a regular boyfriend, but he didn't ask because he was afraid of the answer.
"Yes, I should say so," Audrey said. "Lance and Gerald live with Sheryl, Pattie and me. It probably sounds weird-three girls and two boys, but that's the way it is. We're sort of a-well, a commune. They're a pretty steady foursome, but we all sort of share each other. As for your other question, the answer is no. Only Lance and I have poetic aspirations. Lance just bums around and writes poetry and essays-only fair, I'd say-and Gerald is making a defiant and ironic and mocking attack at the Establishment by working as a busboy at the Holiday Inn in Santa Monica. I work as a secretary for a toy manufacturer, but Sheryl and Pattie don't do much of anything. Sometimes, though, when we're running low on grass and pills they hustle-you know, hitchhike and make it with some guy for ten or twenty bucks. But for the most part, just Gerald and I bring in the bread that feeds us and pays the rent."
For an instant, Walter's heart sank. So they're all on drugs and fucking like wild animals, he thought. Well, what the hell did you expect? You are a fucking idealist, Walter, and that's precisely why you are now out here living among 'em, so you can learn about and maybe even accept things as they are instead of as you imagine they are or should be.
"So you're on drugs, huh?" Walter said, nodding, trying to sound cool and as if everyone used drugs. "I-I don't use-not at all. I guess I just figrre my brain and body are better off without mind-bending of any kind. I guess it's mainly because I'm older. A little wine is good enough for me. Besides, I've seen some bad things happen to people who believe in 'better living through chemistry.' like, I've seen 'em die."
Audrey nodded, "Right, man, believe me, I sure don't put you down for not using. In fact, I only smoke occasional grass myself. I've seen a lot of overdoses and 'freak outs', too. I like you, Walter," she said, putting her head on his shoulder. "Maybe I have a father hang-up or something. Do you suppose so? I'm frequently attracted to older men.-Yes, I think you do remind me of my father. He was wonderful until he drank himself to death-a brilliant lawyer ... really brilliant."
They had reached Walter's street. They turned, walked the short distance to the middle of the block, and went through the gate in the low white picket fence surrounding the little patio. Walter unlocked the door and turned on the light.
"It's nice," Audrey said. "Nice and little and cozy." She pressed herself unselfconsciously against him and, with her chin in his chest, gazed up into his eyes and pursed her lips. "But you're going to get lonely here all by yourself."
"I know," Walter said. "But you're here. At least for now, you're here." He kissed her forehead and she nestled against his chest for a moment before she broke away to inspect his kitchen. Walter lit two candles-one on the table by the stereo and another on the end table next to his couch that folded into a bed. He turned on the record player and placed The Mothers of Invention record on the turntable. In a moment, the music played softly. He turned the heating thermostat up on the wall, then sprawled out on the thick rug in front of the couch. He put two cushions under his head and put two cushions next to him for Audrey. "Come on and lie down with me," he called.
Audrey came in from the kitchen, looked at him as she tilted her head. Then, instead of joining him on the floor, she sat in the chair against the far wall. "I'm a poet, remember?" she said, her eyebrows raised and smiling meaningfully. There was no hint of the tease in her action-just independence. "I like to get perspective and look at things from a distance sometimes. Do you have a sex thing about younger women?"
Walter rolled over onto his back so he could see her better. Frowning, he pondered her question. "Well, probably," he said. "I've had relationships with a few younger girls-students-but I've also been with more women nearer my own age. My ex-wife, for instance, was exactly my age. But, yes, I guess I do love youth in a female. I think all men do. The trouble is, most of them are so damned immature. Children don't make great love partners, you know. The young ones I knew, fortunately, weren't children in any way. I really loved one of them, but she died of an overdose."
"I'm sorry," Audrey said, taking off her Levi's jacket. Her braless breasts, the nipples obvious and large against the sheer material made Walter's penis stir. "What would you like me to do?" she asked sincerely. "I told you I probably have a thing about older men, but I-I never actually had a relationship with one."
"I'm not sure," Walter said, his penis really beginning to grow now. Her offer to please him touched him deeply. In a way, she was offering herself to him and he found the offer as sexually exciting as any preliminary he had ever experienced. "Maybe both of us should do whatever we feel. I care for, respect, and admire you too much to risk shocking you, or scaring you, or turning you off in any way."
"That's nice," she said, blinking faster and swallowing. And then, without warning, she slowly pulled her tee-shirt off over her head and sat there bare from the waist up. Her firm, beautiful, jutting breasts were lovely in the candlelight. She averted his hungry gaze, stared at the door to her left and began running her long fingers through her silky, blonde hair. "II just feel like doing this," she said, her voice trembling. "I-I don't know why, because I've never been the exhibitionist type, but I know that older men, especially, like to look at young girls' bodies so I-I just did it. I hope you don't think I'm too-well, that I'm coming on too strong. Right now I feel beautifully female and passive in a new and different way than I ever felt before. If-if you want me to take everything off, I will. I'll dance for you, too, or anything you want."
Walter was thunderstruck by her honesty and frankness. He didn't want to spoil the mood. She was beautiful in every way. "No," he managed to say, "just stay the way you are. It-it's too beautiful this thing you are doing." He realized that he had completely forgotten the wine. He rose, went quickly to the kitchen and, in a minute, returned with two half full tumblers of white wine. He handed her one; she accepted and their eyes locked together in a long gaze as they both sipped the wine.
"So you love my bones? That's nice ... " She leaned forward then, tilting her head upward, and they kissed gently, her full warm lips pressed tremblingly to his. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair, then back stepped and lay back down on the floor. Without removing her eyes from his, Audrey then squirmed slowly out of her denims, slid her panties off and left them in a pile beside the chair. "Take your clothes off, too, Walter, would you? This is a beautiful thing I feel. Let's both just lie naked and talk and stare at each other."
Walter's eyes never left her as he undressed. He felt no embarrassment whatever. When his clothes were folded neatly on the table and he lay stark naked with his erection standing straight up before him, he felt nothing but loving desire for this beautiful girl who had liberated him from even the tiniest shame regarding his own body. Yes, it was just as Audrey had said. This was a beautiful thing that both of them were experiencing. The youth was instructing the professor. Thus far, maintaining his distance and not touching her had not bothered him. But he wondered how much longer this could last.
"Do you like my body?" she asked. "I know our minds are in tune, but do you find my body attractive?"
"You are joking, Audrey. You know you have a stunning, shapely, near-perfect body," he said.
"I like your body, too," she said. "You're not a muscle man, but you're nice and firm and medium hairy ... sort of wiry and your prick is a nice medium-size. Men with really big ones often don't make very good lovers."
Walter stared at his prick and nodded, appraising it. "Yes, I suppose it's adequate. I've never had a size hang-up. I always figured I was about average, I guess, and so I am what I am."
"Most men are so-well, genital," Audrey said. "I've always liked the hands and-and tongue just as much a man's prick. I'm sorry, but that's the way I've always felt. Also, I really like to have my breasts played with for a long time."
"Most girls do," Walter said. "Although I once knew a girl who got really bugged after I'd licked and played with her tits. She said, 'Jesus, will you please cut it out!' I never forgot that. I guess I was about twenty at the time. She just wanted me to tickle her clit and then fuck away. She was an exception, though."
Audrey laughed, throwing her left leg casually over the padded arm of the chair as she sipped her wine. "Yes, people are really weird, aren't they? I mean, you really never know until you talk about things honestly. I guess that's why I'm talking to you this way, Walter. You see, I like you a lot, too, and I want this to be right. Maybe we shouldn't even touch each other this first night."
"Maybe," Walter said, "although if that's the case, I wish you'd get dressed soon. Your breasts and your voice and-and the way you're sitting and-and everything are driving me very nearly insane. Also, and I can't stress this enough,"-he said this laughingly now-"your leg over the chair arm lets me see the pink line of your cunt and I'm salivating and semen-streaming at the same time. Alas, I am a male and I guess I am pretty goddam genital. Sorry to offend you, but even the sensitive poet is, in the last analysis, a male who is getting ready to spring and clutch and do anything you'll consent to. True, I have a special feeling for you. I think you know I wouldn't lie to you about that, Audrey, but even though I may be more appreciative and gentler and considerate and the rest, the fact is I want of you what any normal male would want of you right now. Jesus! You're beautiful! What a find! A girl who-likes, writes and knows about poetry and literature and who will sit naked with me and talk this way."
Audrey responded to his genuine admiration of her mind and body. She smiled broadly, very pleased, stretched and arched her back lingeringly, then ran her hands over her breasts and down the length of her body. "I liked the way you said that, Walter. You make me feel nice and needed and wanted and feminine-and you like things about me besides my body. The vibes are nice, aren't they? Here we are: I like a mature, older man, and you-like most men-hunger for a firm, young body. It couldn't be much better. We'll do anything whenever you want, Walter ... I mean it. Do you want to fuck now?
Do you want to suck my titties and pussy? Or do you want me to suck your cock for hours and hours and hours? You see, Walter, I do like you. I-I never said anything remotely resembling that to any male before." Suddenly she grew almost shy.
Walter placed his palms over his face and peered at this incredible angel through parted fingers. He had the uncomfortable feeling-the fear really-that Audrey would turn out to be a masterful and infamous tease who would quickly dress and run away any second. His heart was pounding wildly. This was just too good to be true! He groaned, rolled to his side, considered telling her to get dressed and come back tomorrow. Finally, he sat up and scooted on his buttocks and heels and hands until he was at her feet. Gently, he kissed her foot, long and tenderly, first with his lips and then with his tongue. He dropped her foot then and stared up at the half-sad, half-happy crooked grin on her beautiful face. "Tell me this isn't a dream or some crazy game you're playing, please?"
She ran her fingers through his hair. "No, it isn't a game, Walter. If you mean do I come on this way with all men the answer is no. I told you-I've never said these things or acted this way with any man before. In that sense, you see, you have a genuine, bona fide virgin-type girl.
But only in that sense. I've screwed around a lot, but it wasn't anything like what it's going to be with us. Every girl needs one really great affair, and I have the distinct feeling you're 'it' for me. I wish I could be a virgin for you, Walter."
"Don't be ridiculous," Walter said.
What she had said about the "one great affair" had moved him very deeply because he felt he had experienced it with Karen, but now he had the same feeling Audrey had tried to express. He was sitting at her feet, but he did not feel servile, nor did Audrey in any way give the impression that she required any sort of "kinky" worship. It seemed that they were simply what they were-a male and female suited for each other. No computer could have created such a match, he knew.
"Listen, my little Lolita, I don't know how this happened so soon, but I seem to adore everything-yes, everything-about you. I'm not worried about offending you, or anything. I'm just going to be as natural as I can be, and I want you to be the same. r don't want to think too much about us. I just want us to be and feel."
Instantly, Audrey was there beside him on the floor then, cradling his cheek against her breasts as he ran his hands firmly up and down her back. "Oh, my lover ... teach me everything
... yes, it will be just as you said ... just feeling and being for us ... like a good poem ... and I will teach you things too, my lover ... we'll teach each other ... we'll teach each other things we've really always known."
"Yes," Walter said. "Do you like my bones, too?"
"Of course."
Walter slid his fingers into the hair at the back of her neck, pressing hard against her scalp. Then, clenching her hair hard but not hurting, he guided her head where he wanted it, which was everywhere. First, he kissed her rather hard on the lips, still clenching her hair. His tongue slid between her full lips, explored her inner, pure-tasting mouth, played swirling, twirling, darting games with her own tongue. She let him have his way completely, wanting to be directed, and he let his need, his lust, his emotions be his guide. Next, he found himself pressing her to his chest, directing her head to his breasts. He had never done this before, but he was not surprised, for it seemed as though he was being led by something other than thought. It was certainly a switch, it occurred to him, this having a woman lap at his own nipples even before he licked hers! As he held her head clamped against him, tingles ran up and down his spine. Audrey's tongue stabbed hard against each of his nipples, and she drew with hollow cheeks hard, sucking as she lapped. Gradually, Walter forced her head lower and let her lick his navel. It was indeed a miracle, for every act he led her to seemed to be exactly what she craved. She tongued his navel, running her hands up and down his hips and inner thighs, saving for last her obvious goal of his pulsing erection, which she only occasionally brushed with her breasts.
Next, Walter moved her head forcefully to his pubic mound, then quickly bypassed his hard-on and led her to his knees. Grunting a little, she lapped and laved beneath his knees until he guided her mouth to his feet. Lovingly, Audrey then kissed and tongued his instep, his toes, pressing his legs against her erect nipples. "Walter, I love it all ... all of this ... hold my hair harder and guide me, my love, to what I have to do."
Walter did just that. He lay back, propping his head up on two pillows now and put her face directly on his genitals. She nuzzled his balls with her nose, then kissed and fondled his flesh sack and began jacking steadily up and down on his dripping hard-on. Still, his hands clenched her head, guiding her and indicating just how long and how hard he wanted her mouth to, work where. Her mouth had engulfed his testicles for a long time, the heat of her tongue and closed lips about the flesh sack nearly driving him to a premature orgasm. Finally, he lifted her and gave a slight thrust to indicate he wanted her lips about his prick head.
She held the stout rod against her cheek briefly and lovingly, stroking it and rubbing her nipples against the head. "Walter ... I-I want to do everything to you, my darling, but I-I want you to know I have never been much of-of a cocksucker. I mean, I like to have it in my mouth for a little while, but it just-just isn't my bag to suck a prick all night or-or to have it come inside my mouth. You-you do understand, my love, don't you?" And then, as though completely overcome with emotion, she suddenly said, "Oh, but this is different. I-I do want to do everything with you, Walter! Everything! To hell with it ... I want to suck it ... anything ... for as long as you want."
With fury, she then began drawing on the bulbous head, wagging her tongue back and forth over his foreskin, palming his scrotum and even taking the entire organ now and then to the back of her throat.
"Ummmm ... everything is different with you, darling. Even this!" She had paused to remove a pubic hair from her mouth and spoke gaspingly as she took a brief break. "I'm even enjoying this, but-but Sheryl is the one who literally lives to suck men's cocks." Audrey seemed suddenly on the verge of despair. "Oh, I wish I could give you the best of everything, but I've been told I'm just not a very good cock-sucker. Sheryl has tried to explain the different techniques to me, but I-I guess I'm just sort of mechanical. Teach me, darling! Oh, please teach me to do it just the way you want it!"
Walter adored this female so much and found her desire to give him everything so touching he did not care if she wasn't a highly skilled specialist. Actually, he had never bothered to compare the technical skill of females he had known. "You're doing just fine, Audrey ... oh, yeah ... Yes, my dear, that's very nice."
And then, as he thrust slightly to aid her sucking efforts, he wished she had not mentioned her lack of cocksucking skill, for he doubted that it would even have occurred to him that she was deficient in this respect. Why had she brought the matter up? He still held her head, dictating the tempo and degree of friction that felt best, and just for an instant he realized that she was a "mechanical cocksucker." Her mouth moved and her tongue sort of twirled, but it was as if there were a lack of genuine delight in the act. It was as though something deep within her, something she could not control, rebelled against the sucking of a prick. Strange that he should be thinking now, he thought. Was this thought he now held due to her breaking their spell with an admission that she was not an angel, that she was not perfect in the art of cocksucking? He did not know.
He lifted her then and told her to straddle his face. She obeyed, but he caught her before her knees had reached his cheeks. "First, I want to suck your beautiful breasts, my love," he panted. Then, her knees at his hips, he began kneading her twin beauties and rippling his fingers across her nipples. She loved this, obviously, for she began tossing her head from side to side and sighing. When he began sucking her nipples and nibbling at them with his teeth, he also clasped her ass and gradually let his fingertips dip into her gushing vagina. He sucked harder then and steadily stroked her very large clitoris. Her entire body began shuddering then.
"Oh, Walter, what you're doing to my cunt and your mouth on my tits ... Ohhh, Walterrrr!" Her hand reached behind her buttocks then and clasped his hard-on and began jacking it as she ranted on about all the marvelous sensations that were surging through her body. When she seemed on the verge of a fit, she threw her face next to his ear and babbled wetly, "Walter, I-I have to tell you everything. I know I'm not a-a very good cocksucker, but I-I have to have my cunt sucked. It-it's the thing that I have to have ... it sends me to heaven. I-I'm sorry, Walter, but please ... please ... would you tongue my pussy?"
Walter was surprised that she seemed to think he wasn't planning to lick her vagina, anyway. Still, the thought that this angel reveled in having her beautiful, juicy cunt licked excited him to the breaking point. Clutching her perfectly curved ass still more firmly in his hands, he skidded her knees along the carpet until her knees were at his ears now. Then, very teasingly, he lapped all about her vagina as he palmed her pubic mound. "Ohhhh," she gasped. "I can't lie to you, Walter. "This is the thing I most crave ... I absolutely have to have my cunt licked! Girls ... boys ... anything ... I must have my cunt licked! It drives me out of my mind ... I nearly go insane. Don't hate me for telling you my secret, Walter ... I have to tell you everything ... only Sheryl knows my sickness, and sometimes she even does it to me. Don't hate me, Walter!"
"How could I hate you, darling! I want to know everything about you. It makes me love you more! Honestly!"
It was true, for Walter realized at that moment that knowing this angel of a girl was not absolutely perfect and possessed secret doubts and needs only made him love her more. In fact, knowing that she had to have her cunt sucked spurred him on to lick and lap and lave with a frenzy he had never put forth before. Ever so lovingly-like a gourmand at a banquet-he palmed her pubic mound and planted wet kisses from her rectum to her clitoris. Each time he roved the length of her pink and gushing vagina with his tongue, he let a bit more of his tongue emerge so that his kisses grew wetter and wetter.
"Oh, Jesussssss!" Audrey wailed. "That's it! That's it! Oh, that's the way I have to have it! All the time. Oh, Walter I'm sorry, but I have to have my cunt licked this way. Oh, God, you just don't know!"
Now her nails were imbedded in his scalp and her babbling reached the level of insanity as his tongue stabbed deeper into her pussy. With one hand, he reached at her hole from behind and teased the rear of her vagina and anus that way. At the same time, his other hand worked on her clit and pubic mound from the front. In this way, his fingers of both hands as well as his tongue worked as a constantly stimulating team while Audrey nearly shrieked the roof off. Fortunately, she knew her own weakness well, for.she placed one hand between her teeth to muffle her own shouts of ecstasy.
Occasionally, her hand slipped out and her stream of pitiful gratitude for this oral stimulation between her legs that she craved came pouring out. "Walter ... Walter ... God, God, oh God ... Suck ... Oh, yes ... suck ... suck my cunt ... Ohhh ... It's so good ... more! Oouuh, ahhh, Anngh, Eeee ... Jesus, oh Jesus ... Heaven, heaven, heavuuhhhnnnn!"
Walter had heard many women emitting "no-thought" sounds during the act of love, but he had never heard anything compared with Audrey's as he sucked her cunt. Fortunately, he had been privileged enough to suck enough cunts of women who were honest and told him exactly where and how and what to do. There were variations in what best affected certain women, true, but not too many, and he quickly lighted upon Audrey's favorite forms of tongue assault. Unlike many women, she liked his finger up inside her cunt as he licked her clit, but she did not like his finger in her rear. An occasional tickling of her anus pleased her, but insertion did not. Also, like some women, she absolutely required a steady, fast-tempo of his palm on her pubic mound as he tongued. This, of course, created steady movement (insured it, in fact) of everything within her gushing crevice.
Once Audrey's ideal brand of cunt-lapping had been established, Walter concentrated solely on those acts that pleased her and avoided those that weren't for her, of the mind-blowing variety. He had never desired or aspired to" become the world's best lover, but he did want to give this thoroughly delicious and intelligent girl as splendid an orgasm as she had ever achieved.
He tore his mouth from her cunt just long enough to utter, "Go ahead and come this way, Audrey. Don't worry about me now. Worry about me later ... for now I just want you to come this way."
"Oh, Walter! You know! You understand everything. Yessss ... Oh, yessss."
And then this incredibly beautiful girl was totally out of it again, babbling and chanting incoherently as she held his wet cheeks and thrust her quivering pelvis in a steady, gyrating movement at his gulping mouth. She began free-associating then, spewing forth words that made no sense, speaking in a kind of language all her own. Walter had never encountered a woman who behaved so erotically during oral lovemaking before. He dined at the tasty, young cunt ferociously and loved the feel of her lubricant that, by now, was running down her legs to her ankles!
And then she surprised him by rubbing her pussy all over his face. She seemed to have no idea of who or where she was. There was only her cunt and the immediate object of friction, which turned out to be his face. All over his face she rode, grinding the hot-wet squishiness of her genitals over his mouth, nose, ears, forehead, chin. It was a delicious and beautiful experience for both of them, Walter groaned in pleasure as hot, young cunt drenched every pore of his face.
And then, like a jockey not wanting his hands anywhere but on her buttocks to spur her to the finish, her hands were in the mane of his hair and her knees pressed hard against his temples as she ground her clit desperately at his mouth and nose. He could hardly breath, but he didn't care. He took great gulps of fragrant cunt and drank deeply of her love juice.
But one ingredient was missing. His own cock was going without any stimulation whatever! She had said she wasn't a skilled cocksucker, but he wondered how she would act with a prick inside her mouth at the same time she attained her orgasm. It was a selfish thing to think, but he could not help himself. He quickly reversed himself on the floor. She protested feebly for an instant, as he fed his prick at her mouth, but once his mouth was lapping at her pussy and her pleasure nub had found friction again, her protests died. Then, just as he had hoped, she accepted his prick into the warmth of her mouth and gulped and nursed with a vengeance as she continued to slam her pelvis at his face.
Audrey's skill at cocksucking now increased immeasurably, for with his own tongue stabbing steadily at her nerve center between her legs she had no time or inclination to think or analyze her sexual preferences. Therefore, Walter's prick was the only tangible object upon which she could express the extent of her sexual excitement, and she lapped and gorged herself on his engorged meat with desperation.
To his amazement, as she neared her climax, Audrey even began begging him to "hurry up and shoot your come into my mouth ... Oh, Walter, I want to swallow it all ... ummm ... ummm ... give it to me right in my mouth. I want to ... I really want to ... for the first time in my life I want to drink your yummy come juice ... any man's come. Oh, give me your come ... give me your come while I'm .still in t-this m-mood ... Ohhhh!"
And then, after this babbling declaration, her mouth returned to his hard-on and she feasted and dined like a glutton, all the while kneading his balls coaxingly to encourage the spewing of his sperm into her eager mouth.
Walter thrust hard now, delighted that for the moment at least she had become a compulsive and dedicated cocksucker. Tugging at her neck, he slammed his prick to the back of her throat as far as it would go and, if anything, her gagging and mewing sounds increased in intensity. All the while, so as not to jar her from her temporary spellbound admiration for his prick-the sucking and drinking from it-Walter maintained a steady, rhythmic finger-fucking with two fingers now as he bathed her tingling slit noisily with fierce tongue lashing.
The popping and smacking sounds of suction rose in volume as they both writhed and lapped at each other's genitals. Audrey's tensing of her body told him she was about to orgasm. Also, her whimpers increased, almost becoming little shrieks as she bobbed her head up and down on his pulsing rod. "Now!" she managed to gasp-mumble. "I-I'm almost there. Give me your load now! I want it in my mouth when I come! Puleeeeze!"
Fortunately, Walter had been holding back somewhat. He drove still harder, the thought Of his spend flowing into this neophyte cocksucker-this intelligent and sensitive angel-spurting right into Audrey's mouth, produced the necessary stimulus to enable him to finish at that moment. Savagely now, he clutched Audrey's buttocks and neck hard and drove with all his might until he felt the pleasure spasms that told him he was shooting his scalding spend into her mouth.
Audrey milked his member fiercely. Walter could hear her throat gulping as she ingested his load. And then, still swallowing, she came! Ecstatic, gurgling squeal-grunts accompanied a frenzied thrashing of her body as her nails dug into his forehead, his neck, cheeks. Her orgasm seemed to last forever, for she kept on squeezing his prick and milking his balls in a frantic effort to drain, him of every drop of sperm before her orgasmic shudders would end.
Walter was delighted that her orgasm was of such duration, because his own climax was lasting a long time and her prolonged mouth-milking of his prick was drawing out his pleasure spasms for an unbelievable length of time. He had not believed himself capable of such a long orgasm! This young, fresh beauty was accomplishing a miracle! On and on he shuddered, bucked, twitched.
When at last the waves of indescribable delight had subsided, he withdrew his prick wincingly from Audrey's lips and lay spent and gasping. She had already forced his mouth from her vagina, telling him in the universal body language that her orgasm was too sensitive for further stimulation. She too lay exhausted and experiencing involuntary muscle jumps and jerks.
Finally, Walter reached down and lifted her until she lay beside him. She cuddled helplessly to him, her head between his shoulder and neck. "Walter, you know what I need ... Oh, do you ever know what I need! You did it to me, darling. You brought me the most delicious feeling I seem to be able to experience only with-with a tongue. But I do want to fuck you, too. Funny, huh? But fucking sort of rounds out the whole experience and-and makes it complete somehow, doesn't it? That's one thing even a girl can't do for another girl. It's strange how my most intense orgasms are with a mouth, but still I like to be fucked afterward and come that way, too."
Audrey pondered this. "I-I hope I don't seem too freaky, Walter. But I feel I should be totally honest with you."
Walter massaged her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "You're not freaky, dear. Everyone requires slightly different things sexually. If that's the way you get your best orgasms, you'd be foolish to deny yourself, wouldn't you?"
Audrey kissed him hard and hugged him lovingly. "I-I never thought of it quite that way, Walter. Oh, I can tell that you're going to be wonderful for me. You're so understanding you're even making my guilt go away!"
CHAPTER FOUR
Walter had purchased ice cream, cookies, and other goodies the previous day. Still naked and sitting cross-legged on the floor, they ate English Toffee ice cream and coconut macaroons by candlelight and listened to music by The Grateful Dead.
"You devil," Audrey said, grinning happily. "I told you I didn't think I was very sexy when it came to using my mouth, so you tricked me. Ohhh, Walter, I would have wolfed down a-a horse's prick the way you were driving me crazy with your tongue! I go absolutely mad while that's happening to me!"
"I must admit that I did trick you," Walter admitted, "but you must remember that a hard-on has no conscience, my dear. My tricking you was purely spur of the moment-totally unplanned and spontaneous. Sorry."
Ice cream was trickling down Audrey's chin. She caught it with her middle finger and licked her finger. "Don't be sorry, Walter. I loved it. Really. Under those circumstances you tasted even better than-than English Toffee ice cream,"
"I'm glad," Walter said. "Funny why that would turn a man on." He shrugged. "Well, one could spend all day analyzing that, and with you I just want to feel, as I said." He reached out, smeared one of her breasts with ice cream, then licked it off.
Audrey giggled. "Ohh, that's cold, you devil," she said, squealing with exaggeration. "Hey, isn't it marvelous-really marvey-to be this free and relaxed and natural?"
Walter agreed, and then she made him recite poetry for the next half hour. He gave her Brendan Behan, Dylan Thomas, Kenneth Rexroth, and a few of the other contemporaries that he knew by heart. Then, testing him, she asked for Shakespeare, a smattering of Beowulf, and Chaucer. He concluded with excerpts of his favorite Elizabethans, Victorians and Romantics.
"For a professor, you're smart," Audrey complimented. "I mean, you really love poetry, don't you? You're not just doing it for the position, status, or because you want to feel superior?"
Walter chuckled. "I hope not," he said. "Yes, I do like poetry. Why not? It's the best of the language, I think, and there's really nothing snobbish in liking it. Too bad it's given in doses, like castor oil, to students. No wonder they shy away from it." Walter paused, wondering whether to go on with his deep convictions regarding certain poets and their insights. He decided not to be a bore, even though Audrey would be an empathetic listener. "I wasn't fooling when I said I liked your poems, Audrey," he said. "You say what you feel economically, and there's a definite power there. I mean it. I'd like to read some more."
"You will," Audrey said, flattered. "I have a feeling you're going to be a sort of regular visitor at my place. Oh, won't it be a wonderful summer? We can be alone whenever we want here at your place, and we can also spend a lot of time with my roommates Pattie and Sheryl and Lance and Gerald. You'll like them. I just know you will."
"I don't know if I could stand the idea of sharing you though," Walter said. "Maybe I'm old-fashioned. But, yes, I would like to be with you youngsters a lot. There's much I need and want to know ... yes."
"There are some things about me you will just have to accept, Walter," Audrey said, suddenly very serious. "I think that if you open your mind you will find new but important values as you associate with my friends. I don't approve of everything they do, but we are very close. Will you try? Please?"
"Yes, I will try," Walter said. "But you must be a trifle patient. Remember, whether I like it or not, there does exist a slight generation gap."
Audrey scooted closer and placed her hands on the insides of his thighs. She tilted her head and, as she occasionally did, appeared girlish instead of all grown up. Walter admired the girlish grin on her face and the lovely, high breasts he had fondled and sucked only an hour ago.
"I betcha there's one thing you could learn to like at my place," she said tauntingly. '"Since you like to have your-your whatcha-ma-callit sucked so much, you'd go bananas over Sheryl."
"That brunette?" Walter asked. "She is most attractive, but I have you, dear."
"But you don't know! The girl is absolutely the most compulsive cocksucker in existence! I mean, sometimes she does it for money if we need bread for pills or grass, but most of the time she does it because she loves it! Really. She's even gone up to strange guys on the street and asked if she could do it to them." Audrey shook her head, making her long blonde tresses toss from shoulder to shoulder. "Do you know that she even sucks her thumb when she sleeps? No kidding. You see, she was in love with a high school football star when she was younger, and the guy could only make it that way-with her mouth. I guess he was afraid of getting her pregnant or something. Anyway, she definitely has a hang-up about sucking guys off. She craves pricks the way junkies crave 'smack.' Maybe I'll lose you to her once she's performed on you."
To his astonishment, Walter saw that Audrey was somewhat serious. She seemed to expect him to slip into group sexual activity with her roommates automatically. "I rather doubt it," Walter said. "I find you irresistible, Audrey. I mean that."
"So? That doesn't mean you can't be with other girls occasionally, does it?"
Walter could see that there was much he would have to adapt to. Well, he thought, this is what you wanted to learn, didn't you? You wanted to find out what makes youth 'tick,' so here's your chance!
"But does it mean I have to be glad when you're with other girls, too?" he asked. "I mean, the thought of Sheryl diving on your muff doesn't exactly delight me."
Audrey dismissed the comment with a shrug of her shoulder. "Oh, but that's only happened maybe a dozen times," she said, "and only then when I've become frustrated over a long period of time. You see, Lance and Gerald do it all right-going down on me, I mean-but not the way Sheryl does it! Wow, Sheryl can really make a girl come! Anyway, I'm not a lesbian or anything, and now I've found a man who does it just as well as Sheryl!"
"Well, I'm glad for that," Walter said, trying to disguise his annoyance. "Tell me, do Gerald and Lance have sex together also?" he inquired sarcastically.
"Oh, no," Audrey said. "We're not homosexuals ... it's just that Sheryl has this great oral need for pricks-and sometimes cunts-so I accommodate her now and then because I have a great need to come that way, too." Audrey sighed and kissed Walter's cheek. At the same time, she took his penis in her hand and toyed with its limpness. "I must admit, though, that when you made me come with your mouth so beautifully that I did feel relieved. It's nice to know that a man can 'do me' just as well with his mouth as a girl. Yes, I guess I was sort of scared that I might be a potential les."
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Walter said. Audrey was still playing with his prick, and it now stood almost fully erect again. "Don't stop," he whispered, reaching out and playing with her tits. They gazed into each other's eyes for a long time, fondling each other that way while the music played. They kissed as they massaged and teased and stroked, great long tongue kisses that supped and tasted lingeringly without urgency, that probed without haste. After a while, Walter let one hand roam up and down Audrey's leg to her silken, blonde pubic patch. It was still slightly damp from their previous lovemaking. He gently stroked and pampered her pussy, then he let his wet finger tickle her anus and, finally, her clitoris. Her eyes were closed tight, and she was purring when he began teasing the top of her twat, teasing her little flesh nub ever so tenderly between his thumb and forefinger. As he did this, he flicked his tongue at her erect nipples. "Use both hands on my prick," he instructed. "Yes, just like that. Cradle it between both hands and gently jerk it off while you jiggle my balls ... good ... that's perfect, Audrey."
"You-you sure know how to turn a girl on," Audrey murmured. "Everything seems twice as yummy with you. God, you're hard! Umm, I love your big, hard prick, Walter. I really love the way it sticks up almost next to your belly ... ummmm. My prick, my cock, right?"
"Right."
"And my pussy and titties are yours to do anything you want with. Everything-my body and mind and soul is yours, Walter. I mean it."
"Right," Walter said again. Her fingers and deft, gentle touch against his organ were torture. He Wondered how much longer he could hold out before seeking the warmth of her mouth or her cunt with his prick.
"Your prick is dripping all over my hand," Audrey purred.
"Your pussy is nice and squishy, too," he said.
"Recite a poem for me," she breathed.
"I can't," he said. "Not now. I can't think of anything but what we're doing."
"Come on, Walter. Please?"
She was definitely being cute and reveling in her superior female control. To spite her, Walter managed a bit of Robert Herrick:
"When, as in silks, my Julia goes
Ah then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes.
"The liquefaction of her pussy, you mean," Audrey said. "Come on. Recite the rest."
"No," Walter said firmly, gasping. "Not now."
"You're all distracted and you can't recite because of your-your hard-on."
"True. That's very true." Walter fondled Audrey's firm buttocks now, too. He let his fingers ripple-probe and then, entranced with the tininess and tautness of her little anus, he concentrated his attentions there.
"I-I never really cared to be touched much there," Audrey said, pumping involuntarily, "but the way you're doing it f-feels n-nice. Ummm, does it ever!"
"I've always felt pretty much the same way," Walter said, his breath really coming fast now, "but I feel the way you do. Everything seems wonderful with you. I seem to be enjoying things I didn't even know existed before." That was true. He was feeling freer with this angel of a female than he'd felt even with Karen Ingraham. It was incredible, but true.
"Ohh, Walter, when you tickle my clit that way and play with my bottom at the same time, it really drives me right up t-the w-wall. Please don't stop!"
"Don't worry, love. I think that we're both about to experience an important 'first.' "
"Jesus, Walter, I don't believe it. It feels wonderful. Oh, don't hate me, but do you want to-to fuck me there? I know some people do it, but I never thought of it before, but I sure am thinking about it now."
Audrey was rotating her head crazily and her eyes seemed glassy as Walter continued his anal probing and tickling of her clit. "Walter! Walter! What a sensation! Don't you want to put it in back there? Oh, Walter, please try?"
Her response had Walter's hard-on jolting with delight and lust as it sensed new territory it had never explored before. "I don't know," he gasped. "You're so small ... it might hurt you. I don't know."
"Try, Walter ... Oh, try, won't you just try? If it hurts, I'll tell you to stop. Oh, you don't know the sensation I'm feeling. Puleeeeeze."
Walter had never fucked a virgin, and, oddly, although he had never placed any value on virginity, he now found the idea of fucking Audrey somewhere where no male missile had never plunged before, excited him. The more he toyed with her bottom and the more she groaned and begged, the more the obsession to imbed his prick up this angel's ass mounted. Finally, he could resist the urge no longer, but he felt another sensation-an urge he had never felt before. He wanted to be absolutely and completely "in control." He wanted to do this "his way," and he wanted to make it a kind of game. Yes, he wanted to make it-God forbid-a sort of "kinky" game.
"Very well, Audrey," Walter said rather gruffly, surprised even at the stern tone of his own voice, "you're going to get it in the ass, dear, but this is going to be exactly as I direct, all right?"
Audrey's head still tossed and her face was contorted in an almost eerie expression of pleasure. "Anything, Walter," she squeaked. "A-anything y-you s-say."
"Get up and come with me to the bathroom," he commanded. He helped her to her feet and then led her to the small tile-walled room. "Sit on the John," he said.
She obeyed.
"Now urinate, so I can hear the tinkle," he said.
"I-I don't think I can this instant," she said.
"We'll wait," he said. "There's no rush."
Walter was surprised at what was happening. It was as though he was being directed by some mysterious force. He had never consciously wanted to hear or watch a woman urinate, but now something deep within him-undoubtedly a deep-seated, forgotten hang-up from his childhood-had emerged and he decided to give it free rein. This might even be therapeutic, he rationalized, and he knew he certainly didn't want to inflict any harm on Audrey. In fact, he felt certain that he loved her!
Walter's penis stood at full length. He grasped it proudly in his fist and poked it at Audrey's lips. "While we're waiting for the-uh-tinkling," he said, "I want you to suck on this for a while. Don't worry, sweet. Pretty soon we'll get around to fulfilling your request. But for right now, do as I say!"
Confused, obviously, by the harsh tone of Walter's voice, Audrey nevertheless complied.
Walter stared down with his chin on his chest as he fed her a little of his hard-on at a time. When it was halfway inside her puckered mouth, he grasped her hard by the head with both hands and pumped, watching with glee as his instrument that glistened with saliva slid neatly in and out of her young full-lipped mouth. "Good Audrey," he rasped. "That's very good."
Actually, it was not that good, Walter thought. Without his tongue against her clitoris, stimulating her to a frenzy as she sucked his organ, she was indeed a mechanical cocksucker. It was certainly no fault of hers, and he loved her nonetheless, but left to her own devices without stimulation she was simply not an inspired cocksucker. Still, it did feel good, and her sitting on the John as she mouthed him provided an inexplicable spice and stimulation Walter had never known before. He hoped he hadn't stumbled upon a form of stimulation he would require repeatedly in the future. He was not eager to acquire any perversions. He guessed that this was merely a fleeting whim, a desire that would never recur again, and he dismissed this fear from his mind.
"Well, sweet," he said after a while, "where is the tinkling?"
"Do I have to?" She swallowed, wiping her chin. "Really?"
"Oh, I suppose not, but since we've come this far we might as well proceed. I've never thought of this before, but I have this weird desire to hear you tinkle while you're sucking my prick, okay?"
"Okay," Audrey said, returning his cock to her mouth and sucking harder but still rather mechanically. Walter watched her face redden and a vein on her forehead enlarge as she exerted pressure in an attempt to piss.
Finally, just tricklingly at first, there came the sound of water sprinkling on water. Still sucking his cock, Audrey had at last managed to urinate. "Good," Walter said. "Perfect!" A strange tingling ran up and down Walter's spine as the stream of Audrey's urine intensified and trickled into the toilet bowl. Just before the stream subsided, Walter tore his cock from her mouth and stood gasping and bracing himself with his hand on the wall. "Jesus," he said, "I almost came. Would you believe that a man could have such a hang-up and not even know about it until the age of thirty-six?" Walter was trembling all over, "My God, it's just too frightening for words. I mean, I'm not a prude, but I never want to do that again. I'd hate to get-well, hooked on something like that."
"No, Walter," Audrey said. "Listen, I think maybe you should get it out of your system completely. Put your prick back in my mouth and go ahead and come now! I mean it, Walter. Otherwise you'll go all through life wondering about yourself."
Walter frowned. There was some truth in what this girl was saying. "But what about what you wanted to do?"
"We can take care of that later. Don't worry about that. I can tinkle some more when you tell me. I can tell. Put your thing in my mouth, then tell me when to piss."
"Very well," Walter said, feeling a bit embarrassed.
But once he was fucking this youngster's mouth, knowing that she would emit a stream of urine at his command, he felt that incredible excitement again. He was ready then-already prepared to reach a new and strange feeling orgasm. "Piss!" he begged. "Let it go!" he pleaded.
Then the tinkling of Audrey's urine came like music to his ears as it fell to the water below, and he spasmed to his orgasm. "I'm sorry," he said after, sitting and resting on the John as Audrey brushed her teeth beside him at the wash bowl. "To think that a-a grown adult would suddenly find himself wanting to play childish "potty" games is distressing, to say the least. I feel foolish-foolish and infantile. I'm embarrassed and ashamed."
Audrey removed the toothbrush from her mouth. "Don't fret, darling. I told you about my-my oral hang-up. Well, if it turns you on, it turns you on. You can't help it. As long as you don't harm anybody what difference does it make? I'll go potty for you any time you say."
Walter shook his head. "No, thank you for being so understanding, love, but I feel quite sure that I'll never feel the urge again." He patted her firm rump affectionately. "Thank you for making me do it. You were probably right to make me get the urge out of my-my system. It's true ... if I hadn't done it I would have probably worried about it for the rest of my life. You are an understanding angel."
Just then, watching. Audrey standing there, toothbrush in hand, and foaming white toothpaste all over her mouth and chin-Walter suddenly realized he had another sexual hang-up. Good God! he thought. This girl had unleashed all sorts of pent-up desires within him!
"Audrey?" he mumbled, his face in his hands.
"Yes, Walter."
"You won't believe this, but I just discovered there's something else I want to do that's a bit weird."
"What's that?"
"I just hope I have the capacity to satisfy all the desires you've unleashed within me. It-it just happened while I was staring at your beautiful ass and your mouth all covered with toothpaste."
"Tell me," she coaxed, her mouth still full so that she mumbled. "Go ahead and tell me, sweetheart."
"Well, I guess this one isn't so weird because we were going to do it in your rear anyway, weren't we?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"I-I want you to brush your teeth facing the mirror while I do it to you from behind. Please? You can just bend forward over the sink while I ease myself into your bottom. That way I can watch the front of you-see your breasts and your facial expression and everything. Also, I can see your mouth all full of toothpaste. I'm sorry, but that's what I want to do. And at first I want you to pretend that you hardly even know I'm in the room, all right?"
"Whatever you want, precious," Audrey said. "You brought me the most beautiful 'come' of my life. I'll do anything you want if it doesn't hurt too much. It's going to be pretty hard, though, pretending you're not here when you begin poking your prick up my ass. I'm not even sure we can do it. Maybe it will hurt too much. What do you think?"
Walter shrugged. "I don't know, but we'll sure give it a try. I really want to fuck you, that way, Audrey. Truly."
"We are crazy!" Audrey said. "Well, not crazy, I guess-just adventurous. You can't do it again right away, can you?"
"I don't know," Walter said. "With you, almost anything seems possible." Walter stared down at his flaccid organ. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Yes, we'd better wait a few minutes."
They went back into the living room then and lay on the studio couch, naked and facing each other and cuddling. Walter recited some more poetry while The Grateful Dead continued from the stereo. Then, like adolescents, they discussed the pros and cons of indulging in the new form of intercourse they had planned. It was odd that Audrey had been the first to bring up a desire for anal intercourse, then relented somewhat. Walter, too, had wavered in his desire for this new experiment. Now, cuddling and fondling and cooing, they very nearly abandoned the entire anal project and went ahead and screwed conventionally. But just in time Audrey prevented Walter from mounting her and gasped, "No, Walter! Let's-let's g-go back to the bathroom m-mirror and do what y-you said. We can do it the regular way afterward, but let's do what we talked about. I-I really want to, and I know you secretly do, too."
Walter's hard-on seemed ready to burst. He had to insert it somewhere-anywhere-soon! He quickly led Audrey back to the bathroom, then stood behind her as they both faced the mirror. Audrey squeezed toothpaste onto the toothbrush and began brushing her teeth.
Walter watched the white streams of toothpaste dribble down her chin as she brushed. God, she was beautiful! He studied the dimpled small of her back then and her perfectly rounded ass and her long, smooth legs that were slightly spread in anticipation. With one hand he began gently palming her free-hanging titties. She moaned appreciatively. Continuing the breast massage, he stroked the firm cheeks of her ass with his other hand.
Finally, he was able to break his hypnotic gaze at the sight of her white, foaming mouth and stare attentively at the inviting crevice of her buttocks. Rubbing his palm back and forth, he eased the edge of his palm between into her lower cleavage and gradually increased his pressure until he was stroking her tight-puckered anus itself. Still his other hand worked on her erect nipples and, occasionally, he glanced at her mouth that seemed a fountain of white foam as her beautiful hand see-sawed and brought forth the sound of bristles against white, perfect teeth to his ears.
You, Walter Jordan, are freaking out. You realize that, don't you?
Yes, I suppose so, but for some reason all this is turning me on, so why shouldn't I?
Walter let none of his thoughts that were crashing within his head interfere with the weird and delicious pleasure he was now experiencing. He thought briefly of Lolita and knew that his own feelings and lust for this beautiful girl must be akin to those felt by the man in that book for his nymphet lover.
Walter removed his hand from Audrey's breasts now and, staring down, he spread her buttocks and let his prick rub lightly up and down the moist, warm interior of Audrey's ass cheeks. As yet, he had made no attempt to probe the pink eye of her anus. He was merely preparing her, occasionally teasing the tight aperture and of course feasting his eyes on the female majesty of her entire behind.
"Just go on brushing your teeth," Walter whispered hoarsely, lust raging throughout him as he began setting an imaginary scene. "You have just begun brushing your teeth, my dear, understand. And suddenly a man has appeared behind you and begun manipulating you. You have never been approached or manipulated in this way-especially by a stranger-but you are somehow so excited by what is happening that you have no fear whatever. Now, you want this man to go on playing with you this way ... you want him to fuck you in the ass desperately ... understand?"
"Ummmm," Audrey replied in a muffled expression of joy that showed she understood the game and had gotten into the spirit of things. She even wagged her ass a little as if anticipating what was to come. "Ummm . arghmmm."
"Good," Walter muttered, beginning to let his cock head loiter more frequently directly against her hole. "Yes, wag your ass that way a little to let me know you like it ... yes ... good ... very good."
Now Walter began pumping and just letting his hard-on strike lightly wherever it fell. He was enjoying the sight of his own prick probing at the firm and rounded ass, sometimes stroking high, sometimes low, but always aware of the tiny hole that was its ultimate destination. He began rubbing each of Audrey's cheeks as he thrust steadily. Every now and then he would rake her back gently with his fingernails, bite her on the neck or tweak one of her nipples to bring forth still more grunts and groans of delight from this young beauty. Once, Audrey stopped brushing her teeth to put some more paste on the brush and cried, "Oh, it's so wonderful, Walter. You're making me sooo hot! I really want it in there now, Walter. Don't tease me too much longer! Put it in soon?"
"Brush your teeth!" Walter commanded a bit harshly. "Keep on brushing!" He hadn't meant to be crude, but he had completely lost himself in the preparation for the act he was about to perform. Yes, this is like fucking a virgin, he thought. Yes!
Once again, Audrey brushed her teeth so that the white streams of saliva and paste ran dribbling from her mouth, and now Walter began probing with his fingers tenderly to ready her for the insertion itself. Instinctively, she was resisting, which he realized was natural. But he was patient and soon her muscles began to relax a little. When he could hold back no longer, he then reached up with one hand and took out a jar of suntan' lotion. He wished he had Vaseline, but he hadn't anticipated the need for it. The lotion was fairly bland and it would serve the purpose.
Methodically, he then smeared the entire area of her rectum, probing with his fingers as he greased Audrey's rear end thoroughly. He greased himself too, then began pressing firmly with his swollen cock head right into center of her ass hole, As expected, her muscles tensed up a bit, but he talked to her soothingly, telling her she must relax as he made a special effort to poke considerately without haste.
Finally, she had relaxed enough to permit the entry of his entire prick head and both of them groaned gratefully, knowing that now the real pleasure would begin. "Ouuhhh ... ahhh ... " Audrey said, the toothbrush in front of her now and her eyes rolling. "It sort of hurts but it feels good, too. G-go easy though, darling ... real easy."
"Don't worry," Walter said. "The biggest part's in. ... now it will be clear sailing."
That was true. Walter put a bit more lotion on his stiff flesh stalk and then fed a little more hard-on at a time into Audrey's increasingly receptive ass. When his prick was halfway in, they both knew they had found something special. Audrey reached back, grasped his rod affectionately and gave it a helpful push as she groaned. At the same time, Walter reached around in front of her and began steadily stroking her expanded clitoris.
That did it! From then on it was indeed "clear sailing" and all-out enjoyment. Both of their fears gone now, Audrey abandoned her brushing but remained open-mouthed as Walter's flesh spear sank to the hilt and drove in and out in a steady tempo. "Ohhhh ... Jesus ... What a sensation!" Audrey sighed. "I never felt anything like it. D-don't ever stop, Walter. Your finger against my clit is-is what's r-really d-doing it, Walter. Ohhh ... that finger and that big thing ... right up my ass ... yes, my ass ... Ohhhhhh!"
This was certainly no time for analyzing or comparing, Walter knew, but he could not help it. He guessed that ass-fucking was good primarily as a "change of pace" to regular sex. Yes, because it was mostly a psychological pleasure. True, Audrey's ass hole was incredibly tight and this was desirable, but it was perhaps a little less hot than cunt and there was not a pelvis-on which to build a foundation, as it were. Yes, he thought. That was it! A pelvis acted as a sort of launching pad for a penis missile, and the launching pad was missing.
Still, ass-fucking was very, very good indeed with this young beauty. She had never been fucked there before in her life. He had never screwed anybody in the rear before either. It was sheer esthetic delight to watch his prick probe right into a perfect female ass, since he had always been something of an ass connoisseur anyway. And finally, the fringe benefits of this act were monumental! Audrey was now wailing and gasping and seemed to be on the verge of still another hysterical orgasm. As he stroked her clit firmly and thrust his stout rod into her rear, she kept raving about the simultaneous feeling, the dual aspect of getting stimulated in two sensitive places at once. "Oh, both places at once," she screamed. "You don't know ... you just couldn't know the feeling! Har-der ... deeper ... faster ... Ohhhhh, jab me, jab me!"
Walter guessed it was this dual stimulation of her that triggered a good part of his own pleasure too. Yes, there was the newness of the act, her intense response, plus the fact that he could watch himself fucking her with great ease. He only wished that he could suck her tits at the same time.
Now her undulation and whimpering told him that she was once again ready to come. He stared back and forth from the entrance and exit of his cock to her white, foam-covered mouth and thrust with all his might as his finger wiggled like a vibrator on her clit. Then, sputtering and shuddering, spewing forth white tooth paste all over the mirror before them, Audrey came with a fury. Seismic quakes rocked her from head to toe and she held on to the sink to keep from collapsing. Walter rode her hard, jabbing as hard as possible, slamming his pelvis against the firm, rounded ass cheeks with incredible force to meet the urgency of her need.
Walter felt his testicles jolting then, too, and he bit into her back hard as he felt his spend streak through his engorged rod and into the depths of her. Both gasping and bucking, they then knelt onto the floor, Walter's prick still inside her, and lay breathing hard.
When their breathing had returned to normal, Audrey slid from on top of him to the floor beside him and showered his face with grateful kisses. "That was truly wonderful, darling," she said. "It was an entirely different kind of orgasm. It-it felt as though I came-well, deeper than ever before ... right to my-my soul or something. I nearly passed out. Really."
"I'm glad iye did it," Walter said. "It's something you wouldn't want to do every day, but it's something everybody should do at least once, I guess. It's a special thing between just us now," he found himself saying. "It's a first-time, secret kind of thing that you and I have shared. It sort of makes us closer, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Audrey said. "I guess that's it. It does make me feel even closer to you."
Walter slipped into his terry-cloth robe, gave Audrey one of his long-sleeved shirts to use as a robe, and they both lay on the studio couch again, thoroughly satiated. The music still played and Walter cradled the head of this most beautiful girl in his lap and traced the outline of her features with his index finger.
"Do you have any idea what it means for a lonely man like me to find a beautiful and willing and intelligent girl like you?" he asked, staring down adoringly at Audrey.
Without moving her head, Audrey rolled her eyes upward stared at him. "Yes-yes, I think I can imagine what it must be like for you," she said. "I do write poetry, remember? So I think I can put myself in your place better than some people. Still, I can't be certain how you feel." She paused and ran her hand through his hair, a look of great maturity and even a kind of ma-ternalism on her delicate features. "But I think it's imagining that I can put myself in your place that makes our thing together here tonight so thrilling and meaningful to me. That probably sounds egotistical and like I'm some kind of 'do-gooder,' but I can't help it."
She touched his lips and he bit her finger lightly. "Ouch!" she said, crinkling her nose playfully. "But I have to admit that I'm loving every second of this, so, in the last analysis, I'm just a selfish and horny girl. But there does exist that element of giving myself-like a nurse or something-to an older man that I know really appreciates and needs me. I don't think it's sick, though, do you?"
Walter ran his hand down into the shirt and palmed her firm breasts. "If it is sick, I don't care," he said, bending and kissing her neck, her eyelids, finally her lips.
They both breathed harder. "This is going to be a remarkable summer, isn't it?" Audrey asked. "A wonderful and adventurous and sensual time for both of us."
"Yes, it is," Walter said, confused and amazed that his organ once again stood eager and wanting to perform. Even with Karen Ingra-ham he had never made love four times. On several occasions they had made love three times, but usually twice or even once had been plenty. What was it about this girl that brought about in him a constant sexual craving? He did not know.
To his delight, Audrey was ready and eager for another love bout also when she felt his hard-on pressing against her neck. "My favorite object in the world wants to 'do its thing' again," she whispered coyly, reaching under the terry-cloth robe and slowly moving his flesh sheath back and forth.
They lay then on their sides, Walter nursing on Audrey's nipples as both of their hands directed his prick head against her clitoris. Calmly they thrust their hips and spoke of love. Finally, Walter eased his rock-hard missile into her seething pleasure chamber until it was all the way in and they began consummating the evening with conventional screwing.
On top of her then, clutching her buttocks with his hands as he speared her cunt and rubbed all of himself against her squirming body, Walter knew that there would always be basic, plain, old fucking. Yes, all the rest was spice. Somehow, right there on top, with a woman's legs about you, was a way of loving that was destined to endure. Hors doeuvres were interesting, but he guessed the main course would always be tried-and-tested sexual intercourse.
CHAPTER FIVE
The morning sun streaming into Walter's Venice cottage brought with it a feeling of gratitude to Walter Jordan, Ph.D. At first, he sighed his familiar sigh, fortifying himself to face the day's trials and boredom and loneliness. Then, as he stirred in the narrow studio bed, he felt Audrey's warm nakedness beside him and rejoiced.
Gently, he turned onto his side facing her and propped himself up on one elbow. He studied her beautiful, young face and reveled in the memory of last night's lovemaking. He had to smile. She lay on her back, but her leg was draped over him so that he could not escape. That was a good one, he thought. As though he would try to escape. No, he would do everything within his power to keep this angel with him for as long as possible. It was as though Karen In-graham had been resurrected-no, surpassed!
Unable to resist it, he pulled back the covers and feasted his eyes on Audrey's youthful breasts that rose steadily, then fell again with each sleeping breath. Finally, she squinted, rubbed her nose, groaned and opened her eyes.
She seemed a trifle fearful as she oriented herself. Then, remembering where she was, she hugged Walter hard as she half yawned, half smiled.
"It's soooo nice to wake up with you, darling." Her voice was slightly growly with sleep. "Thank God it's Saturday and I don't have to go to work. We'll spend the whole day together-just the two of us."
Although still slightly puffy from sleep, her blue, blue eyes were nevertheless lovely and sensitive, Walter thought, and her blonde tresses seemed somehow more attractive in a state of disarray. He loved everything about this enchanting female who had dispelled his loneliness and brought him such happiness last night. "Yes, just the two of us," he said. "The whole day."
Suddenly Audrey clenched her hand over her mouth in horror and sprang from the bed. In a few minutes she returned, smiling and even posing a bit as she climbed into bed beside him again. "I brushed my teeth," she said. "After all, you've been calling me an 'angel,' and everybody knows that angels don't have stinky breaths in the morning."
Walter grimaced, then quickly went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth also. "I brushed mine, too," he said. "I'm no angel," he said, climbing into bed again, "but if you're going to set high standards, I guess I have to conform."
Snuggling, they kissed then and Audrey cradled Walter's erection between her legs. "Well, what's on the love menu this morning?" she asked, purring. "What can I do for you? Or are you all pooped out from last night? I guess I could tinkle or something."
Walter laughed. "No, thanks," he said. "That was all crazy, experimental kind of stuff. No, you don't have to brush your teeth while I strike from behind and there will be no more tinkle lovemaking. At least I don't think so. That was fun, but now we're regular, veteran, mate-type people and we can settle down to sort of 'normie' love sessions."
"Sounds dull," Audrey purred, fondling his testicles and licking at his nipple. "Does that mean all the magic is gone?"
"Not by a long shot," Walter said. "It's just beginning. You're right, though. I guess I shouldn't make any rules. Okay, do whatever turns you on."
"I wish you had something in your refrigerator," Audrey said. "I'd like to fix you a big, scrumptious breakfast and feed you with a spoon."
"Sorry," Walter said. "I'm going to take you out to breakfast. Then we can lie on the beach and swim or anything you want. I want to do things for you."
"All right," Audrey said, then sucked on his lower lip. "But I have this insane desire to cook for you and clean house and everything. I'm sure it will pass, but that's the way I feel right now, I'm your woman," she added, growling. "Do you want to fuck your woman?"
"It occurred to me," Walter said. "Yes, let's do it nice and slow-the regular way-and then we'll go and eat breakfast."
Audrey released his already bursting hard-on from between her crotch, took it in her hand and began rubbing it against her pussy at the top. Walter let her take the lead and idly played with her breasts as he tongued her ear.
"This bed is awfully narrow, Walt."
"Don't ever call me Walt," Walter said.
"Sorry. The bed is narrow, Walter. I want you to move in with me and my friends. There are three bedrooms, believe it or not, and my bed is a double one, all right?"
"But I just moved in here. I gave the man a deposit."
"How much?"
"Well, not much-fifty dollars plus the first month in advance."
"Okay, then keep the place for a month just in case we want to be all alone, but you can stay with me and my friends."
"All right," Walter said. "It's done."
"Umm," Walter said, "that feels great." She had his prick halfway inside her and the heat on his morning-cool organ was delightful. "You've become my perfect little whore."
"That's right. I am. I'm your personal, private whore. Anything you want ... anytime. Does my pussy feel good in the morning, too?"
"The best," Walter said, rising up on both knees now and spreading her legs so he could push farther and harder and feel more of the cunt heat. "It's the best pussy in the world," he said, knowing that it really was the best as he savored the heat of the thing and genuinely, affectionately, kissed her neck and breasts as he moved inside the hot pussy in steady movements.
Audrey locked her ankles beneath his knee-backs and they both moved steadily and without haste in gentle body rolls, fucking and kissing each other's cheeks and hugging hard.
"We're mates, aren't we?" Audrey asked, her breath nice and lusty.
"We certainly are," Walter said. "That's the way I feel, too, and I love to fuck my mate."
She liked the way he said this and told him so. Then she said, "Why don't you like to be called Walt, Walter?"
"I don't know," he said. "That isn't important now. I-I just never liked it. How would you like to be called Ana"! "
"Yes, I understand now," she said. "I-I wouldn't like it ... no ... Ohh, that's nice, Walter. Fuck me, mate."
"The mate is loving fucking his mate ... you can believe that more than anything. You believe it, mate?"
"The mate believes it," she said, her hand in his hair and her other hand roving from his buttocks' to his shoulders, clenching as she shoved her lower body to him and grunted louder than necessary just to let him know she liked the way they were fucking.
Walter reached down with one hand and began rubbing her clitoris as they fucked. She removed his hand.
"Sometimes I like that, but sometimes just the fucking is enough," she said through clenched teeth. "Right now just the fucking is enough and I don't need the sucking or anything but just what we're doing. Nothing else, darling ... gooood ... just as it is ... puuurrrfect."
He understood exactly what she meant, because he wanted nothing more either. He had just thought she might like the finger, too, but if she didn't like it, that was fine. He had just wanted her to know he wanted to give her anything she wanted. The giving to her had been the key to his act, and her not wanting his finger did not bring on feelings of rejection. So they just kept on fucking and talking.
"I could come any time," he said. "Really, it's almost like I'm coming all the time."
She smiled very lustfully and told him to wait if he could. "Give me a minute," she said, thrusting a little more intensely. "And-and hold my ass a little harder, would you?"
"Like that?"
"Yes, maybe a little harder," she said. "Yes ... good. When you pull at me that way it makes me know you need me desperately and want me. It doesn't make me just a receptacle, but it's something like that, too. I'm not a wom-libber ... no sir ... Oh, Walter."
She had become quite passive now in her urgent sort of way, which he found very female and natural and honest. He would do anything for her, anything, and then she told him she was coming.
It was really a fine finish-undramatic and straightforward-a veritable prizewinner in simplicity in fucking. Hugging hard, they both came, him a little after her, and then they held each other very hard, their bodies rigid and locked together while his fluid entered her and did what it was supposed to do.
Still breathing hard, Walter relaxed his grip on her and openly breathed hard into her ear and rubbed his cheek back and forth against hers. She held his neck firmly, enjoying the sound of his breath in her ear, he could tell. He had performed for her, given her his love and she was obviously happy that they had both done what was supposed to be done. It had felt good, too, and they were both aware that they had functioned as male and female.
He held her very hard for a while, thinking about all of this and telling her just a little of what he thought, and then they separated and talked about dressing and getting something to eat. That was good, too, he thought, although he didn't say anything about it; the mates making love and then the mates going to get some food. It all seemed so very good and natural and in the scheme of things. It was even one level down the level of abstraction from a good poem, and so his feelings didn't need any words at all.
When they were dressed, Walter opened the door for her and then they walked, hip to hip, his arm about her and hers about his waist too. It was only nine o'clock and the streets were fairly deserted. When they reached the bicycle-riding highway-he didn't know what they called it, but it was a concrete lane for bicycles that ran for several miles to Santa Monica and was reserved for bicycles-he said, "Let's, rent bikes and go to Marina del Rey and eat breakfast looking at the boats."
Audrey beamed and said she thought that would be a splendid idea. "It's a pretty swanky place for a girl in tee-shirt and Levi's, but I think it would be perfect."
They just stared at the ocean for a while, watching the gulls and the horizon as they leaned against the concrete wall, sort of sitting and leaning actually, and then they went over to the bike-renting place and rented the bikes. The man had just opened the place. He didn't seem particularly happy to rent the first bikes of the day. But they didn't care because they had a secret. They got on the bikes and headed for Marina del Rey.
It took about twenty minutes to get there. Walter asked the parking lot boy to watch the bikes for them and then they went inside and found a booth that offered a good view of the boats and the people getting their boats ready for the day's outing. The Marina was quite a contrast from Venice proper. The people in the restaurant were dressed more expensively than Audrey, as she had said, but nobody seemed to mind or speak of this, and they sat very close together in the big booth and ate their waffles and eggs and crisp bacon in contentment.
"I don't need any poetry today," Audrey said. "This is all a poem, isn't it?"
"That's funny," Walter said. "I was thinking the same thing. You're very advanced for a young girl," he added, teasing and hugging her. "You forgot to drink your orange juice."
"Or maybe you're just catching up," she said. "Maybe I've been the advanced one all the time."
He nodded, conceding the point, "Yes, that's maybe true. It very well could be."
She sipped her juice, then paused. "Walt Whitman was a Walt" she said. "I don't see why you don't like Walt."
"Okay then, you can call me Walt, but only in private, and I'll call you Aud."
"You win, Walter," she said. "Walter and Audrey it is. I love the boats," she said. "This was really a stunning idea of yours, Walter." She put her head on his shoulder, and he tightened his grip on her hand beneath the table. "I'll never forget these waffles and boats and last night with you." She laughed.
"I'm sorry, but when I think of tinkling for you and brushing my teeth last night for you, it really cracks me up. We're supposed to be sophisticated and-and sort of above it all, aren't we?"
"We are," Walter said, laughing too. "That's why we did those things. We can do anything we want. You see, when you're above it all, you can do anything you want. Then you realize you're just like everybody else, which is the peak of sophistication."
"Good, Walter," Audrey said. "Very good. I like that. I wish we were rich and owned a boat, though."
"Yes, sometimes I do, too, but it's an awful lot of work, and once you have one you just want a bigger one and you don't appreciate it as much as you think you would. In a way, next to walking, bicycles are as good as anything. Simple boats are splendid, however. Rowboats and sailboats are about as good as anything, too, except for walking and running."
They both pondered this, then Audrey said, "Let's get out of here, shall we? I think we're both going crazy. What we need to do is just lie on the warm sand and maybe swim in the salt water."
"You're right," Walter said, and they got up and he paid the check and they went back out to their bicycles.
Walter had not accompanied Audrey upstairs to her apartment to fetch her bikini bathing suit. In the interest of time, she went up by herself, and then they turned in their bicycles and lay on the warm sand. It was nearly noon now, and the beach was beginning to get quite crowded. Lying there on the sand, hip to hip again but now on their stomachs, Walter ogled all the females in their bathing suits as he always did. But there was one essential difference; although the females were delectable and entrancing, as always, and at times so sexually attractive it got almost unbearable, he knew absolutely that there was nothing in the way of female charm either reclining or walking around that he didn't already have lying there right beside him. That was a splendid feeling; possibly one of the very best. The only trouble was, it wasn't really a feeling at all. No, it was an intellectual knowledge that Audrey was all he really needed and wanted, and so he lusted somewhat after the girls on the beach, despite himself. He wished this weren't true, but it was true. It would probably always be true for all men everywhere, and this annoyed him. He was, after all, merely an animal.
He moved his hip against Audrey's and put his arm about her in order to become more carnally appreciative of what was immediately at hand. At the same time, he gazed about jealously to make certain no man was too intensely ogling Audrey. He knew, intellectually, that she was probably the most desirable female on the beach and he didn't want males lusting after her while he lusted after their females. He also slyly checked Audrey's gaze to make certain she was not admiring too openly the firm bodies of the young men playing volley ball to their left. If she was lusting after these younger, better-built men, she certainly was being very discreet about it. That's probably about all you can ask of her, he thought. Discretion. Still, he wished the men would go away. Either that or sprout paunches and gray hair.
"I wish you wouldn't lust after those volley ball players that way," he said, half kiddingly.
"I'm not sure I am," Audrey said. "Oh, my. Listen to the professor. Lusting after them." She giggled. "No, I'm not lusting after them nearly as much as you're lusting after the girls."
"How do you know I'm lusting after the girls?"
"I just know. You're a man, and you're lying on your stomach in the warm sand. Believe me, I know."
"But you're all I want-all I need."
"That may be true, but it doesn't change anything."
"So? You're lying on your stomach, too."
" That's different, and we both know it."
"You may be even a better poet than I thought," Walter said. "You accept certain inevitabilities very nicely."
Audrey turned onto her back now and, propped up on her elbows, stared at the breakers coming in at the beach. "I'm not so sure," she sighed. "Hey, here's a good one for you:
"My candle burns at both ends It will not last the night But oh my friends, and ah my foes It's such a lovely light."
"Edna St. Vincent Millay," Walter said, turning over onto his back also and propping himself up. "Such a pity to see such a woman so obsessed with self-destruction." Walter shook his head. "Yep, dissipation got her all right. That a poet would, do that to herself. Virginia Woolf, too. Can you imagine old Virginia doing herself in just because she was so goddam sensitive she couldn't stand the thought of World War II?"
"Yes, I can," Audrey said.
"Oh, no," Walter said. "Look, I know you're into 'grass' and maybe some pills, but you're not hell-bent on killing yourself. Believe me, I know you're not. I knew such a girl. You're not, are you?"
"No, that's true," Audrey said, touching his hand. "I do want to live. That isnt my thing. Who was the girl you knew?"
"It isn't relevant," he said. "I don't want to talk about it."
But she coaxed him, and so he told her about Karen Ingraham. When he had finished, Audrey kissed him on the cheek and said, "That must have been very sad for you, Walter. I'm sorry."
"You seem to mean more to me," he said.
"I'm glad, and you mean lots to me. Let's go swimming?"
Audrey was an excellent swimmer. They waded into the chilly surf, then dived beneath the same wave. When he surfaced, Audrey was already swimming hard, straight out. Walter swam his hardest, but she was rapidly widening the distance between them. Finally, she stopped, swam back a few yards and faced him. He could not tell whether she was standing or treading water.
"The old man is a slow poke," she said. "He's fair in bed, but in the ocean he's a slouch. Don't panic," she teased, raising her hands above her head. "I'm touching. See?"
Walter permitted his feet to touch the velvet-textured sand. "So I'm only fair in bed, eh? Well, I don't usually mate with-with Olympic swimming champs. Nor do I swim against them. I'm a cerebral person, remember? I'm sensitive and highly intelligent. I'm a professor who is entitled to a little respect."
"You sure do talk a lot of shit, prof," Audrey said, laying on heavy the "black" rhythmic jargon. She knew about language, all right.
Walter decided to play the game with her. "Bad mouth me that way, baby, and you gonna have a whole lotta trouble."
"She-uht, listen to the man. If his mouf was fins, he could maybe swim!"
"Don't you worry 'bout my mouf. I got som-pum else for ya right here in my hand. Come here, woman."
"I betchoo ain't holdin' much, sugar. Don't shine me on."
"The surprise is waitin'. Whooee ... standin' straight!"
Audrey swam over, flailing with exaggerated fury-putting him on-and grabbed his crotch. "She-uht," she pooh-poohed, "jes a shriveled little thang and sof as a feather."
"Ya gotta work with it, woman. This water's cold!"
Audrey deftly began fondling Walter's organ. "I wish you wouldn't refer to my penis as 'shriveled and soft,'" Walter said, dropping their language game and fondling her breasts beneath the water. "Men don't like that, even in jest."
"I know," Audrey said. "All girls learn that at about the same time they learn to walk. That's why I said it. Ha, ha ... Walter has a tiny prick ... ha, ha ... a girl can't even feel it when he fucks her ... ha, ha!"
Walter grew very silent. His organ had started to rise, but now it gave up. "I don't like this game anymore," he said. "Besides," he added, "I like girls with good-sized breasts-not just females with-with a couple of moles on their chests. Little titties really turn me off. No wonder I can't get a giant hard-on!"
"Excuses, excuses," Audrey teased. "Impotent little pricks always have excuses."
Walter turned, but before he could start swimming back to shore Audrey grabbed him hard around the neck and babbled rapidly in his ear: "Listen, my darling, most wonderful man I ever met whose beautiful, beautiful prick made me happier than ever any man has or could last night, I love you-really love you-all of you-and I think you're absolutely wonderful. But we're poets, darling, and remember that poets always test and tease and torment and play with awful, dreadful, frightening things, don't we? Of course, we do ... Ohhhhh, what a marvelous, huge, enormous, perfect cock you have, darling!"
Audrey was playing with him beneath his bathing suit now and he was furious with this game she was playing. Still, he did not move and his prick began to lengthen and grow hard.
"God, is it ever getting hard and big, Walter! Oh, you just don't know how incredible your giant prick is to grow in my hand this way. My God! Will it never stop growing? It's going to pierce the ocean's surface, I swear. It's a veritable jack-in-the beanstalk cock. Whew! It's magic! The biggest male cock in the world. And so hard, too! It is every female's dream prick, Walter! Giant, monster, beauty!" She whistled.
"I hate you," Walter said. "I really hate you! You've gone too far with this, Audrey. The little-titted bitch has gone far too far. You're sounding like a lesbian on one of her more sadistic days, Audrey. Please stop. I know you're a poet, but please stop the game."
"I am sorry," Audrey apologized. "I suddenly got like a little girl who's stayed indoors all day-you know, on a rainy day when you get crazy and antsy? I let all my penis envy hang out, I guess. Forgive me?"
"Yes," Walter said seriously, "and of course you know your breasts are adorable."
"I know, and you know that your penis is very, very adequate. I think you made me jealous when you mentioned that-that Karen In-graham. She knew your penis was very adequate, didn't she? Yes, I hated her, so I wanted to hurt you for ever knowing her. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"
"Okay," Walter said. "Keep playing with me, though. That's your punishment."
"All right," she said, slowly jacking on his stalk.
They were fairly far out from the beach and there was nobody swimming near them. "Everybody knows what we're doing, you know that?"
"Probably, but I don't care," Walter said, massaging her clit steadily and squeezing her nipples gently.
"Eeeeee," Audrey screamed suddenly. "What is it? What was that!"
Walter felt it then, too. "Probably just a piece of seaweed. It is spooky when unknown things brush against your legs under water, isn't it?"
"Yes, terrifying," Audrey said, resuming her stroke on his organ again. "I can't think of anything more eerie ... ugh ... it could be an eel, or a shark, or a jelly fish, or anything."
"Yes, the ocean's so big and dark and you can't know what it is for sure that's under there. Things against your legs in the ocean are one of the most scary things there is, I think," Walter said. "Do snakes and spiders bother you, too?"
"Yes," Audrey said, burying her face between his neck and shoulder as she jacked him off. "Mostly spiders, though. They're scarier than anything for me. I like the snake I'm holding, though. No, snakes don't bother me as much as spiders or those awful whatchmacallits that touch me underneath the water."
"Do you think you can 'come' in this cold water?" Walter asked.
"Ummm-hmmm, I think so," Audrey replied. "Go more from side to side, though, and push a little harder. Ummm, that's it, and go a little faster, too. Am I doing you all right? Do you want me to jack faster or squeeze harder or anything."
"No, you're doing it just perfect," Walter said.
"It is a nice prick, Walter," Audrey said, playing with his balls now a little. "I love the shape of it and everything." She began stroking at the very origin of his penis now with her other hand, so that she was jacking him off both above and below his testicles. Walter had never felt anything quite like this. Somehow, because that part of his prick never received friction from clothing, it was very sensitive, and now he was certain that he would come, despite the coldness of the water.
"You sure know how to handle a cock, girl," he said.
"Thank you, sir. You see, I've played with so many of them-millions, in fact. I've had so many cocks of all sizes, shapes and colors in every orifice Of my body that I am just one gigantic pussy. I am a living twat that is totally dedicated solely to the gratification of the male genital organ. Experienced? Hah! I tell you I was born with a prick in each hand ... also one in my mouth, rectum, and pussy!"
"This is no time for your poetess games," Walter snarled. "I understand that you have a great sense for the ironic-in the dramatic sense. I know that you are truly gifted, but you're supposed to be concentrating on coming and also making me come. Goddamit, Audrey! Cut it out and be serious. This is not the time for jest."
"Nor for arguing either," she added, kissing him and sticking her tongue between his lips. She broke the kiss finally and said: "I'm pretending to be arguing and chatting with you, silly, so that the folks on the beach won't know what we're really doing. Don't you see, Walter? Nobody would ever guess that we're indulging in mutual masturbation while we're carrying on a civilized conversation, right?"
"Yes, I do understand, and you are very clever. But we can't stand here and do this all day. You have to concentrate," Walter scolded.
Audrey began lapping his face with her tongue and squirming frantically. "Ohhhhh," she wailed, throwing her head back. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I CAN"T STAND IT! IT FEELS SO GOOD! YOUR FINGER ON MY CUNT IS DRIVING ME INSANE!! ! WALLLL-TERRRRRR!"
Walter clamped his hand over her mouth. "That's enough, Audrey," he whispered. "You're overdoing it. Everybody knows exactly what we're doing now. If you don't want to do this, okay, just say so, but don't ruin it for me, damn it!" Audrey had a great sense of humor, but she was getting slightly out of hand, Walter thought.
"Very well," she said, "but if I don't 'come' I'm going to be furious. Statistically, women are supposed to orgasm at least half the time. I think that's what the magazine I read said. If you have an orgasm and then deny me mine, then I'm going to write a women's magazine about you. No, I'll do worse than that. I'll kick you in the nuts."
Suddenly Walter stopped fingering her clitoris and turned away from her. "Forget it, Audrey!" he said, genuinely angry now. "Just forget it. I thought I knew you, but I really don't. I can't cope with your brand of insanity-poetress or not!"
Instantly, she was all over him, apologizing.
"Forgive me, Walter," she pleaded. "The game is over now. I got whatever it was out of my system and the game is definitely over." She touched his hard-on lovingly then, and he knew she spoke the truth.
"Don't you understand my motive, Walter? That little skirmish was designed to throw suspicious on-lookers completely off the track. How could we possibly be playing sex games and arguing at the same time? Get it?"
"You're too much," he said. "You should be writing mystery stuff for TV. Jesus! I didn't know you cared so much what people thought."
"I don't," she said. "Not at all. But I pretend that I do just to see what it feels like. Remember, I'm a poet."
"Oh, bullshit," Walter said. "Look, do you want to do this or not?"
"Of course I don't, but that's why I'm doing it, Walter, because I really do want to-more than anything in the world. Come on, Walt, let's go ahead, and 'come' and screw everybody."
Audrey had really gone far afield with her "sex trip," or whatever it was, but to his amazement Walter suddenly found her totally committed to the task at hand. First, she dived underwater and gave his prick a big kiss. Then, soul-kissing him without any discretion whatever, she jerked him off with both hands and stared longingly into his eyes until he came.
He shuddered, trying to conceal his orgasm somewhat from on-lookers, and unintentionally slowed his pace on Audrey's crotch.
"Don't stop now!" she begged. "I-I'm almost there."
Limp from his own orgasm, Walter nevertheless worked his middle finger faster back and forth against her clit until she too shuddered and came. Then, back to their senses again, they both casually splashed the water between them to scatter the evidence of his orgasm which had risen to the surface.
"Not bad for an orgasm in such cold water," Audrey said, laughing. "Although I must say I prefer the ones I've had with gentleman in the Mediterranean, The Red Sea, The Atlantic, The English Channel, Niagara Falls, Lake Michigan, and The Dead Sea. Then, too, orgasms with younger men with bigger cocks in the rivers are splendid also. Let's see-yes, besides The Mississippi and The Ganges, there was the-"
"You can't bother me now, woman," Walter interrupted. "I've already had my way with you. You can't hurt me now. I've used you for my selfish ends and now I'm tossing you aside. Fuck you!" he said, and turned and swam as fast aspossible for shore. He swam as fast as a fish, he was certain, pulling hard with his arms and kicking fiercely. Finally, gasping and exhausted, he lifted himself from the white surf and started for their towels.
She had already arrived and stood standing with her hands on her hips, barely breathing hard. "Let me help you to our towels," she said, taking his arm. "You're growing old, Walter. Lean on me, your young helpmate. Everybody is watching you, the old man who has just had an orgasm and a swim and is about to collapse, so go ahead and lean on me. That's it, Walt ... good ... everything's going to be all right, dear."
Walter was too exhausted to laugh, protest, anything. He did lean on Audrey until they reached their towels. Then he collapsed and lay very still for a long time.
After a while, he faced her and she grinned at him and winked. "Yes, Walt?"
"Damn you, Audrey. I do love you-you damn angel-witch. But you're not going to get away with this monkey business of today. I'm going to get you for this. Somehow I'm going to get you. I don't care if you're a poet or not."
CHAPTER SIX
Walter perspired profusely as he and Audrey gathered his skimpy, vacation wardrobe and other belongings, packed them in two large suitcases and toted them three short blocks to the old, two-story house where Audrey and her friends lived. The house fronted an alley, just one-half block from the beach, and there was an excellent view of the ocean from upstairs. Walter was surprised that Audrey lived in a house. Somehow, he had envisioned their communal dwelling as an apartment. As they made the last trip, carrying his stereo and other unpack-able items, Walter felt bold and free and youthful to be seen by passersby who he felt certain guessed that he must be a supersensitive man and an incredible lover to have such a young and beautiful girl taking up residence with him.
It didn't even occur to him that people neither knew nor cared why two ordinary human beings were transporting suitcases, etc. No, he was certain that everybody knew precisely what he and Audrey were up to. Shacking up, Walter thought, liking the phrase.
They dropped all of Walter's things in the center of the huge living room floor and sat down to rest. Audrey sprawled out on the enormous overstuffed davenport and Walter sank into what resembled an oversized, psychedelic-colored bean bag. To his surprise the thing was very comfortable. Audrey was not even breathing hard, but Walter panted and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Thirty-six is old," Audrey teased.
Walter ignored her. "Quite some place you've got here," he said sincerely, studying a huge mobile that hung like a chandelier in the dining room. The place looked almost Gothic, with dashes of contemporary here and there. There were high-backed chairs surrounding the dining room table. There were unclassifiable paintings and bright posters all over the walls. To his left stood a grandfather clock and a medieval suit of armor. Directly across from him was an honest-to-God street sign (Washington Blvd.) with the pole still attached and statues of Jesus Christ and Socrates flanking a plaster of paris kewpie doll that resembled Betty Boop.
"Yes, we like the place very much," Audrey said with an exaggerated sense of proprietorship. "Rumor has it the place used to be a whorehouse. We got most of the furnishings from the Flea Market and the Goodwill. Betty Boop, Jesus and Socrates we got at a swap meet for two lids of grass. Would you believe we pay only a hundred and fifty a month rent? We get a special year-round rate."
"Remarkable," Walter said, noticing spider webs joining Jesus, Betty and Socrates. "Remarkable ... ummm." The place was fairly tidy, but not clean. There were a few dust balls in one corner and some lint balls on the maroon Oriental rug. The large cushions strewn about the floor were faded and slightly soiled.
"You should talk one of your compatriots into swapping some heroin or whatever for a carpet sweeper," he said, grinning.
"Don't bad-mouth the pad, professor," Audrey said. "This isn't some college dormitory. This is a sanctuary where esthetes dwell in freedom and love. Also, we don't use heroin,"
"Yes," Walter said. "I think I detect traces of semen on the rug though. But you're right-I don't see needles and syringes."
"Come on, Walt," Audrey said, standing and pulling off her bikini top. "I'll take you for a tour, or should I say a 'sanitation inspection.' Think of me as your 'topless' hostess."
Upstairs seemed very cozy. There was just a single, old-fashioned bathroom, but the bedrooms were good-sized and tidy with bookcases containing everything from Camus and Sartre to Mad comic books and Peanuts paperbacks.
"This one's my bedroom-or maybe I should say ours, darling, although there's quite a lot of switching around. I mean, Sheryl sometimes sleeps with Lance and sometimes she sleeps with Gerald. Patti swaps around, too."
Walter couldn't resist uttering what immediately came to mind. "Uh-with Sheryl and Patti out hustling sometimes, how is the VD rate around here?"
Audrey just sighed with impatience and clawed the air in mock anger. "Don't be absurd, Walter," she said. "We're all very discreet. Besides, with one more female than males I don't indulge much sexually. The truth is, I almost always sleep alone. I was only kidding before. Actually, neither Lance nor Gerald turn me on that much. I find Lance a little pretentious and his poetry on the obtuse and abstract side. Gerald's something else again. Chronologically he's twenty-three, but emotionally he's, say, fifteen. Then there's Lance who acts like he's about seventy."
"Which of the girls was it who gives such great 'head'-you know, the compulsive cocksucker?" Walter asked. "Cunt-lapper, too?"
"That's Sheryl," Audrey said. "In fact, I'm surprised nobody is home right now. Gerald's bussing dishes over at Howard Johnson's, of course, which is his rather 'kinky' way of laughing at the Establishment, but I suppose our intellectual giant, Lance Falvo, is either playing chess or discussing literature and poetry with some of his non-working, no-talents somewhere. As for the-girls, who knows? Sheryl's probably somewhere sucking on a cock or turning a trick, and Patti's either on the beach or hitchhiking to find a trick. One thing's certain, they're undoubtedly all 'high'-on grass or on pills." She shrugged.
"If you have such a low opinion of your housemates," Walter said, "I don't see why you live with them. I mean, you're fairly straight. You write sensible poetry and you even work. Why?"
"I often ask myself that same question." She bit her lip and stared up at the high ceiling. "What's the alternative? I think it's because I'm sort of-well, an outcast. My friends may be weird, but at least they're interesting. Please don't put me down. Don't go away and leave me." She pressed herself close to him, her bare breasts firm against his chest. "Do you want to make love? I'll do anything you want, prof."
"No, I don't think so," Walter said. "Not now." He kissed her cheek lingeringly. There he stared deeply into her blue eyes. "It's going to take me a while to get used to sharing you with these other two chaps, though. You'll have to be a little patient with me, Audrey. I'm sort of a one-woman man, you see. Habit, I guess. I'm not even certain I'll be able to-to make this little scene successfully. But I'm willing to try. I'll try anything with you, Audrey."
Her eyes grew tear bright, but then she caught herself suddenly and took his hand and started for the stairway. "Come on, darling, everything's going to be wonderful. You'll see. I'm going to make you so happy you'll never want to teach again. You'll just want to live, live, live! With only me, naturally. Right now I want to fix us a sandwich and some-some coffee? Would you rather have tea? How about a soft drink, or a beer?"
Walter followed her downstairs to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and sighed. "Jesus, will those irresponsible bastards ever remember to buy things when we're out? There's no bread or milk or anything. Listen, you stay right here and-and listen to the music. I'll go to the store and be right back, okay?"
"Can't I come along?" Walter asked.
"No," Audrey said. "I want you to stretch out on the davenport and relax and feel at home. I want to shop for my man all by myself and then fix him a nice lunch. Stay here and be comfy and get the feel of the place. Take your shoes off, darling. I'll be back in a jiffy."
Audrey then turned on some very hard "acid" rock on the FM and started for the door. Walter insisted on giving her a ten dollar bill and, finally, after great difficulty she accepted it. "Okay, sugar daddy," she said, winking and doing a number out of some 1930 movie. "You'll never see me again. So long, sucker."
Then she blew him a kiss-something out of an emotion-packed Italian opera, he guessed and tap danced out the door. Walter had to laugh when she was gone. He knew her antics were all to cover her embarrassment over taking his money. She was a delight-scintillating, breathtakingly beautiful, and yet a little girl whose charm had not yet been squashed by too many men or too much disappointment.
Walter was upstairs in Audrey's room, looking at her bookshelf, when he heard the front door downstairs close. Audrey had just left, and he doubted she could have shopped so quickly. He went downstairs and saw a strikingly pretty brunette sitting in the big bean-bag chair. She was quite tall, rather slender and pretty in a theatrical sort of way. She wore heavy make-up and long false eyelashes. She did not see him enter the living room and continued to stare out the window pensively, sucking on her thumb. Seeing him, she jumped up and forced a smile. There were dimples in her cheeks, and she wore faded Levi's that were cut off just above he knees and faded yellow shirt with buttons down the front. The skirt was tied just beneath her small breasts so that her midriff was bare.
"I'm a friend of Audrey's," he said. "She went to the market. She'll be right back."
"Oh, you scared me. Hi. My name's Sheryl."
Somehow her sucking her thumb had tipped Walter off. "Yes, Audrey mentioned you," Walter said, and he was certain that Sheryl was staring directly at his crotch! He hastily sat on the davenport and Sheryl sat back down on the "blob" chair with her legs out in front of her and spread far apart, trying obviously to look seductive and succeeding. Walter squirmed a little under her steady gaze as the tip of her little finger slipped involuntarily into the corner of her mouth. "Uh-nice to meet you, Sheryl. I'm Walter."
"I like you," she said. "You're cute. In fact, you remind me of my father a lot. Really."
"Well, that's good. I'm glad you seem to like me. You see, although I just became acquainted with Audrey, we've become extremely close. In fact, I've moved in."
"Great," she said, moving her hips suggestively and then sucking harder on her little finger. "Yeah, I wondered where Audrey was last night. We all got stoned and thought maybe she'd drowned or something. What do you do-I mean for a living?"
Walter didn't want to get into the professor thing, but the truth came out anyway. "I'm a teacher," he said. "I teach literature in college."
"Wow! That's really heavy, man," she complimented. "No wonder Audrey digs you." She grinned seductively. "A teacher, huh? Man, I could use one, I got kicked out of high school. So did my teacher. We got caught in the cloak room while I was down on my knees in front of him. I'm what-do-you-call-it?-incorrigible! I guess Audrey told you about my hang-up."
Walter cleared his throat as she squirmed and contorted her lips and kept eyeing his crotch. "No, I don't believe so," Walter lied.
"She didn't?" Sheryl hip-wagged her way then across the room and sat down on the floor in front of him. She put her hands on his knees and rested her chin on one of them, then ran her tongue across her upper lip, said "Ummmm" as she stared right at his fly, and unbuttoned the front of her shirt so that her little boobies hung free.
"You understand that we're all very free around here, Walter, and that there's no jealousy or anything like that." She opened and closed her mouth now, making salivating sounds and staring at his groin. Then she actually began running her fingernails up and down his inner thighs as she made those starving, hungry movements with her mouth.
Walter could feel her hands trembling. Then, suddenly, she thrust her cheek against his leg and she began wagging her head back and forth. Despite himself, knowing what Audrey had told him about Sheryl's compulsive cocksucking, her skill and great need, Walter found himself becoming aroused. If she was looking for his prick to stir within his pants, she was getting her way. His breath began coming faster. "Uh-maybe we'd better-uh-go out on the porch and wait for-for Audrey," Walter found himself stammering.
Coyly, she looked deeply into her eyes. "People don't usually do what I want to do on front porches," she said. "At least in broad daylight. Walter?"
Her hands were closer to his prick now-teasing, stroking, fondling imploringly. "Yes?"
"Maybe Audrey and you did everything last night, but I'm-I'm a-a specialist. There's one thing I do better than anybody else in the world because I love to do it. I mean, not just as a favor. I really love to-to put my mouth there ... for a long, long time ... to kiss it ... to suck it ... all the way ... please?"
Sheryl's chanting voice had literally hypnotized Walter, and now his prick stood at stiff attention as she began unzipping his fly. Suddenly his engorged hard-on burst free and the look in this girl's eyes was like no look of adoration he had ever seen. She emitted a little whimper and her eyelids trembled as she took his prick in her soft palms and worked her tongue all over her mouth.
"I have to have it ... in my mouth," she said. "I-I have to ... please understand ... you're the first one t-today ... I'll do this anytime you want ... all the time ... anytime ... it has nothing to do with you and Audrey ... it's just m-my addiction. Everybody here knows about me ... Audrey won't be mad, Walter ... I do it to the boys all the time ... whenever they'll let me."
Walter's stomach was turning flip-flops and his organ jerked in anticipation. Her own great need had somehow triggered a greater need to have his cock sucked than Walter had ever known. The insane look in her eyes as she fondled his stiff rod, the involuntary spasming of her. mouth-the evidence that she craved his male prick the way a person dying of thirst craves water-all these things had him shuddering and dying to watch her feast on his prick.
"The pants off," she murmured. "All the way off so I can g-get between your l-legs and really l-lick."
"Yes, Sheryl," Walter said to this young beauty, hastily shedding his trousers and scooting forward on the davenport so that his stout tool stood eager and nearer the girl's wet and open lips. "Go ahead and suck, Sheryl," he found himself commanding gutturally. "Suck it good and long for me, dear ... do what you have to do."
First, Sheryl kissed the head of his dripping member, and then she nuzzled her nose into his balls, mewing and whining as her fingertips tantalized his foreskin and cockhead. "Cock, cock, cock," she said. "Hard prick-cock."
"Yes," Walter said. "Stick it inside your mouth. Suck it off and lick it and lap my balls and make me come."
"I'm a cocksucker, Walter," she moaned. "I love to suck your cock more than anything. Do you know that some men don't like this? I actually met a few. T-they can't come this way, they say." She half laughed then. "But most of them love it more than anything. I've made slaves of quite a few, Walter. You'd be surprised. They can't duplicate me. They try, but they can't find a girl to do it the way I do it. I'm proud to be the best cocksucker on earth, Walter."
"Then go ahead and suck," Walter said. "Suck it off now."
"I am-right now," Sheryl said. "I just wanted to be sure you were the type who appreciates the best blow job in the world. That's important. And I see you do appreciate it, Walter. That's good. Now just relax and-and watch and enjoy while I take you to heaven. No inhibitions, professor. Just relax and let a girl who loves cocksucking suck your big delicious prick."
Her hot lips settled over his cockhead then and began gently tugging-bathing and washing and moving steadily lower on his stalk as she mewed and writhed and massaged his testicles. The heat of her mouth was indescribable and her technique a thing of wonder. It was more than the gentle probing of her tongue tip at his foreskin, the aperture at his cockhead, and it was beyond the, swirling of the middle of her tongue about his prick all the way from the head to the base.
It was indeed a mystical gift she possessed. Her oral ministrations were not talent; they were genius! The tongue, the sides of her mouth, her throat, even her teeth came into play as she performed a flesh fugue that became a tantalizing symphony on his prick. She even managed to slide down and take his testicles entirely into the oven of her mouth without leaving his anxious prick in the cold. Somehow, her hands continued to work as she gulped on his flesh sack so that his penis remained reasonably warm within the cupping motion of her hands. She knew, too, to lightly tease his buttocks and his anus without neglecting the principal targets or distracting him altogether.
On and on she worked, and Walter stared trembling at the in-and-outing of his swollen shaft into her gulping mouth. Occasionally she would pause to quickly glance up at his mouth agape and his pleasure-blank facial expression as she rimmed the area just beneath his bulging cockhead. At these times, she would squeeze milkingly at his balls and pulsing shaft and say: "Cock ... cock ... cah-uh-uhk ... love your cah-uh-uhk ... give me cah-uh-uhk ... come with your cah-uh-uhk."
Her great, overpowering need to mouth and gulp at his sex organ was then communicated to him, and, in turn, increased his desire to fulfill her need, which potentiated and snowballed the intensity of sensations on his genitals until he felt his organ could not withstand the wet-warm-washing-swirling any longer. Great groans came rumbling up from somewhere deep inside him and, holding her head in his palms, clutching at her shiny hair, he would fuck her mouth for several strokes, then stop and let her bobbing head reply in some primitive kind of drumbeat talk. They went on that way, him thrusting, stopping, her replying, until at last he was crying out pitiful sobs to tell her that he was there.
Her reply to this was to jiggle his testicles very lightly but very rapidly as she quickened her tempo from the base of his prick to the head. There was much sound of saliva now, too-he could hear this above his own gasping directions and praise and expressions of eternal gratitude-and her moans and gulping sounds grew loud and fierce.
In the end, Walter had made an S of his body there on the edge of the davenport. Gazing down close at his prick between the nursing lips, he shoved his pelvis out as far as it would go. He then felt the rumbling in his balls, the tickle-gouging sensation throughout his prick, and he let his sperm fly. Beautiful Sheryl seemed to gargle then, and the constriction of her throat, plus the gulping of his load, had him bucking like a man enduring an epileptic seizure.
For a long, long time, Sheryl remained gently nursing until the last trace of fluid had been mouth-vacuumed from his cock. It was as though she wished to drain his balls dry forever. Finally, she let his organ free and cradled it between her neck and shoulder, sighing. Walter fell backward, eyes closed, totally spent. Never before had anyone sucked his prick as had this young, consummate craftswoman. He felt certain he loved Audrey, but he felt equally certain that he would not be able to resist experiencing such a sensation from Sheryl again. Her need had brought about a new need in him, he feared.
"Anytime you want," she said calmly from below his waist, "I will do this to you, Walter. Anytime ... and as often as you please. I told you that I have to have it, Walter. I love to do it to you. So never be shy, promise? All you have to do is ask, or point, or hint. Wake me in the middle of the night! Anytime. I love it, Walter."
Walter was still lying with his hands covering his face, trying to comprehend what had just happened to him, when Audrey returned with her sack of groceries.
"Ah hah!" she said casually, walking straight for the kitchen. Walter jumped, fearing some expression of jealousy, but there was no need. "So Sheryl has already introduced you to her specialty. What did I tell you? Isn't she incredible?" Audrey said matter-of-factly.
Sheryl still sat on the floor between Walter's spread knees. "Hi, Audrey. Got some groceries, huh? How about a sandwich? Hey, I like your friend. He's yummy, too. It will be nice having a teacher around. I'm only half educated-specialized but uneducated."
In a few minutes, Audrey brought in three ham and cheese sandwiches and three beers. The three of them then sat cross-legged on the floor eating and sipping beer and making small talk. To Walter's astonishment, there was absolutely no reference to Sheryl's oral performance on him. In fact, Audrey sat very close to Walter there on the floor and, if anything, seemed more affectionate toward him than ever.
"Want another sandwich?" she asked Walter when he had finished.
"No thank you, love," he replied, "but I might have another beer."
"Very well," she said, heading for the kitchen.
Walter was dumbfounded. Apparently he had much to learn about the communal life of so-called hippies.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The two male residents of the commune both arrived home shortly after 5:30 that evening within fifteen minutes of each other. Poet Lance Falvo, twenty-five, sported a full beard, an earring on his left earlobe, and a full-length crimson cape. He merely grunted when Audrey introduced him to Walter, then went to the kitchen and returned with a beer and sandwich. "Well, I should think it will be better to have one man for each woman of the house," he said, eyeing Walter suspiciously as he gorged himself and chug-a-lugged his beer. Burping, he then launched a long diatribe against the traditional poets.
Walter merely nodded, agreeing with him, which seemed to annoy him mightily. Finally, Lance paused, burped, unzipped his fly and gestured to Sheryl to come to him. "It's been a weird day, Sheryl. Make it a fast job, okay?"
Instantly, Sheryl crossed the room and curled up with her face at his crotch. Before Lance's organ even had a chance to become erect, Sheryl had his prick in her mouth and was bobbing her head up and down. "Yumm ... ummm...." she muttered.
Lance draped his arm over Sheryl's shoulder and pumped his hips a bit now and then, but other than this he barely acknowledged her presence. "Me," Lance continued, "I had to vacate college in order to pursue poetry as it should be written and salvage my sanity. I figure I should be ready for publication in another two or three years."
As he went on that way, advancing his literary theories and premises, Sheryl sucked steadily and noisily. Walter was amazed at the lad's composure, for just one half hour previous Sheryl had performed her second blow job on Walter (in the bathroom upstairs) and once again her skill had very nearly driven him out of his mind. Unquestionably, Sheryl was insatiable, and unquestionably young Lance had become so jaded her attentions were taken for granted.
"Walter isn't a prisoner of tradition," Audrey said to Lance.
"In fact, his tastes in poetry run distinctly to the modern." It was as if she didn't even see Sheryl dining on Lance's organ. "Go on, love, recite some modern poetry for Mr. Avant-Garde. Prove to him that a solid foundation in English literature doesn't impair expression and creativity in contemporary areas."
Walter complied, beginning with some lines from Ezra Pound, e. e. cummings. He was in the midst of Robinson Jeffers' Roan Stallion when Lance raised his hand for him to cease reciting. "Just a sec," Lance said. "I'm coming." He thrust quite hard then for perhaps a dozen strokes, clutching casually at Sheryl's bobbing head, then gasped, patted her on the cheek and said, "Thanks, Sheryl."
Sheryl resisted slightly as he tore his cock from her mouth and stuffed his still erect organ back in his pants, but finally she sat upright beside Lance, dabbing at her chin with the back of her hand and gazing attentively at Walter.
"Go on," Lance said. "Robinson Jeffers, of course, is deceased and he never was my cup of tea, but you may proceed."
Walter cleared his throat and continued fumblingly, glancing confusedly at Audrey beside him. She merely patted his knee to spur him on, seemingly unaware that Sheryl's blow job on Lance had unnerved him in any way. With great effort, Walter's voice droned on:
" "Two figures on the shining hill, woman and stallion, she kneeling to him, brokenly, adoring.
In cropping the grass, shifting his hooves, or lifting the long head to gaze over the world.
"Oh, cut all the poetry bullshit!" a high-pitched voice suddenly boomed from the doorway. "Jesus, why don't you people get out and work instead of cluttering your brains up with all that mumbo-jumbo?"
The owner of the voice looked a little like Batman's sidekick, Robin, except that he was a crew-cut blonde and wore corduroy pants and a white tee-shirt. It had to be Gerald Shipley, the twenty-three-year-old remaining tenant who was a busboy at Howard Johnson's.
It was. Audrey introduced Walter to him, and they shook hands. Gerald even smiled politely before sprawling out on the floor beside Audrey. "Good to have you aboard, Walter," he said. "Audrey needs a regular stud." He snapped his fingers then, unbuttoned his pants and said, "Come and get it, Sheryl."
Sheryl crawled over on hands and knees and began sucking his cock at once. like Lance, Gerald only acknowledged Sheryl's presence as her head moved rhythmically up and down on his prick. "Can we cut all this poetry crap and have a little music now?" he asked. "I, folks, am a member of the masses. I have put in a hard day's work, and I am entitled to intelligible recreation, not abstract, irrelevant, undecipherable drivel by impractical poets who never worked a day in their lives." He gazed down at Sheryl and patted her head. "Yeah, Sheryl ... good girl. Now here's a girl who really knows where it's at. This girl's efforts really have a meaning. Yeah, suck, girl ... suck! Honest labor, and with a purpose. That's Sheryl. Say, how about a beer, Audrey?"
Audrey got up, turned some music on the FM "rock music" station and went into the kitchen. When she returned and handed Gerald the can of beer, he gulped from it greedily, interrupted Sheryl's sucking long enough to give her a sip of beer, then said, "You wouldn't believe how servile and obsequious I became today on the job. I was Brando, Barrymore, Olivier. What an actor I was! I actually had that ass-hole boss of mine believing I'm a stupid, humble, semi-retarded member of this country's labor force who loves to bus dishes and accept his sneering orders. Oh, it was just too, too, beautiful. I, a true intellectual, lashed back in the most subtle attack on Management, Injustice, The Ruling Classes, one can possibly imagine. I was magnificent."
Audrey shook her head and glanced at Walter, shrugging. "I still don't see why convincing his bosses that he's just an everyday working man represents an 'attack' against the Establishment," Audrey said. "It's too subtle and deep for me."
Walter didn't say anything.
"You imbeciles don't comprehend anything but the obvious," Gerald spat, thrusting his hips steadily into Sheryl's gulping mouth.
"Oh, we comprehend it all right," Lance replied. "And we'll comprehend it when they lock you up in some state hospital and you claim that you're merely playing the role of a mental patient. That'll be the slickest bit of play-acting of all, won't it? Shit, while they're giving you shock treatments, you'll probably demand an Oscar for an Academy Award performance or something. Shit, man, are you ever sick!"
Despite Sheryl's cocksucking, Gerald's eyes blazed now, and he lashed back angrily, "Don't talk to me about sickness," he yelled. "You and your fucking red cape and unintelligible poetry. You don't even work for a living. You're playing a role but you don't even know it. At least I know I'm playing a role! Man, I'm going to get my boss's job, then his boss's job, and then I'm taking over the whole Howard Johnson restaurant chain. When I'm president of the company, and the company's running more efficiently than ever, then we'll see who has the last laugh at society!"
"Your logic eludes me, Gerald," Lance said. Lance had taken out a "joint" and was now smoking it, sucking deeply on the crudely wrapped marijuana cigarette. He held the acrid smoke deep inside his lungs, then passed it around. Everybody but the cocksucking Sheryl took a drag, and even Walter decided to partake of the reefer.
As he exhaled the sweet-smelling smoke and passed the joint back to Lance, Gerald reached his orgasm. "Ohhhh, man!" he groaned, staring down at Sheryl's mouth on his organ. "Jesus, that girl gets better every day! Thanks, hon. There's gonna be a top position for you with the company when I'm president, no shit." He stuffed his cock back in his pants and lay on his back, contented. Sheryl proudly licked her lips, smiled, and asked Lance for a "poke" of the joint. He handed it to her and she partook eagerly, nearly swallowing the butt. Then she passed the thing back to Audrey.
"You already high?" Lance asked Gerald.
"Just Dexedrine," he replied. "Let's drop some downers."
"That's what I had in mind," Lance said. He went upstairs then and returned a minute later with a handful of pills. Audrey and Walter passed, but Lance, Gerald, and Sheryl swallowed several and chased them with beer.
Just then, the front door opened again and there entered what Walter guessed to be the most unusual-looking red-haired female he had ever seen. She was attractive, extremely, but she wore too much blue eye shadow and bright red rouge on her cheeks. She was of medium height, about twenty-one, and her flaming red hair reached to the bottom of her buttocks. She wore hot pants so tight that the sheer material had to be stuffed up her vagina at least half an inch, Walter concluded. Her enormous green eyes seemed slightly glazed, but when she spotted the last of the marijuana joint she raced over to Lance and took several deep drags.
"Wow!" she said, sagging to the floor beside Lance, "I'm already out of my gourd on hash and coke, but I can't ever resist mother grass." She reached into her purse and tossed four twenty dollar bills on the floor. "There you are, children," she slurred proudly. "Three tricks. The last old dude got super-generous and felt sorry for poor little girlie me!"
Everybody congratulated her, Lance, who was apparently the group's treasurer, scooped up the bills and stuffed them in his pocket. He handed Patti several pills then and she downed them and chased them with his beer. Then she threw her hands in the air in jubilation and yelled, "Super Pussy has struck again!"
Everyone toasted her achievement then with their beers, even Walter, and then Lance introduced her to Walter.
If the conversation had struck Walter as somewhat bizarre up to that point, what followed struck him as outright insane. True, his smoking of grass had altered the accuracy of his own perception, but the effect of the "downers," grass, and alcohol on Lance, Gerald, Sheryl and Patti was beyond belief. For perhaps half an hour nobody seemed to speak at all, and the group automatically separated into three couples. Lance paired off with Patti, Gerald with Sheryl, and Walter with Audrey. Walter merely gazed into Audrey's eyes, the two of them indulging in fairly conventional cuddling and petting, but the other two couples stripped all their clothing off and began examining their bodies and engaging in nonsensical muttering.
It was Patti who suggested watching the "Hollywood Fuck-Freak" game on TV. Everyone but Walter and Audrey cheered the idea.
Walter whispered in Audrey's ear, "How can we watch anything? There-there isn't a TV set in the house, is there?"
"Of course not," Audrey said. "It's only a-a make-believe game. Whenever they get really high, they do something like this. Don't do anything to ruin their fun, dear. They can't help it. Just watch and remember that no matter what happens we'll be alone together in our own little bed all night together. Let's take off our clothes, too. After all, we don't want to seem out of place, right?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right," he said, and they both stripped naked and focused their attention on Lance, who had taken over the lead from Patti.
"Here they are, ladies and gentlemen. Once again we bring you those hilarious Hollywood Fuck-Freaks-a game that you folks, too, can play at home, Everybody wins ... everybody has a giant orgasm."
The group's attention span was short, Walter noticed, for although at first everyone seemed to be focusing on an imaginary TV set in the vicinity of the Betty Boop, Socrates, and Jesus statues, they soon lost interest in Lance's insane narration of sexual activity and began resorting to sex games among themselves.
The inveterate cocksucker, Sheryl, for the moment at least, abandoned her traditional pastime, and sat astride Gerald's knees and was soulfully and slowly licking his face, neck, and chest while he fingered her cunt and twirled her hanging nipples between his fingers. As he fondled her this way, he thrust upward with his huge erection so that it lightly probed at her rectum.
"Ohhh, daddy, daddy, daddy," Sheryl kept repeating as she licked Gerald's body.
Patti, too, was astride Lance, but her knees were on either side of his cheeks and she held his hair fiercely in her fists and ground her pussy in steady, gyrating motions all over his face. There was only the light from the kitchen now, but even in the dim illumination Walter could see that his face was sopping wet from the redhead's gushing vagina.
"Suck my cunt, Lancie!" she wailed, riding him as if she wanted to smother him. "Eat me and lick my pussy until your tummy's ready to burst from my love juice. Ummm, it's so nice to do what you want to do after you've been with men who've made you do what they want to do all day. Suck it all up, baby. Suck it dry until I come all over your face. I wish I could fuck your ears, Lancie. I really love your ears ... suck ... lick ... lap!"
They were totally out of ther minds, Walter realized, from grass and pills, but he could not help reacting to the orgy taking place before him. His own cock stood hard and eager as Audrey lay on her side, facing him and shoving his hard-on steadily between her breasts. At the same time, he stimulated her nipples with his fingertips, occasionally reaching far down her back to her buttocks and lightly fingering her rectum.
Finally, so that they could both benefit from the sex show about them, Walter turned her (still on her side) facing the other two couples and began slowly fucking her in the cunt dog-style. They lay there slowly fucking, Walter teasing her clit and breasts with his hands and biting her neck and ears. "Drugs are awful," Audrey moaned, "we both know it, but this-this is a-awfully s-stimulating, isn't it, Walter? Watching others making it at the same time isn't like any other experience, huh?"
All Walter could do was moan feebly. "Yes, I-I never realized it before. Yes, it's amazing. No wonder the Romans got hooked on it ... it's incredible." It seemed that every thrust of his rock-hard cock was shared by the group and somehow intensified his pleasure. Their moans and whimperings brought incredible tinglings to his organ that jabbed within Audrey's flame-hot twat.
Patti had now lowered her pussy from Lance's cunt-drenched face and fucked him dictatorially as she commanded him to fuck her this way and that. Walter could see Lance's big organ sink to the hilt into her wet, furry treasure, then backstroke and pause until she commanded him to stick her again. Apparently she relished the role of commanding a sex partner after a day of hustling for money. Walter was surprised that an arrogant lad such as Lance would obey and control himself so admirably.
Gerald now had Sheryl up on her hands and knees and was screwing her from behind dog-style. He stood up suddenly, holding her knees wheelbarrow-like and forcing her to support herself on her forearms as he drove his rod savagely into her. Walter did not realize that he was ass-screwing her until she cried out, "Yes, Gerald, fuck this cocksucker harder-harder! Fuck this cocksucker right in the ass!"
Their dialogue went on and on that way, its theme the fact Sheryl was being denied the right to suck a cock and, instead, taking one of the objects of her adoration into her rectum. "Right on, baby!" Gerald hissed. ""This is one cock you can't suck now, eh? No, it's sticking you hard somewhere else nowhere near your mouth. Take that! And that!"
"Yes, Gerald! Use me! Hurt me! Fuck my ass! Ouch! Yes! Punish me, daddy, for all those cocks I've sucked. And-and I have a right to come, too, don't I?"
"Damn right you do!" Gerald said. "And I'm gonna make you come like never before!" He lowered her legs to the floor once again so that one of his hands was free to massage her clit as he continued fucking her ass. Her voice rose crazily as, for a change, a male sought to make her come instead of passively lying back while she mouthed him to an orgasm. "Gerald! It's wonderful!" she cried, "but you know I have to have a cock ... a cock in my mouth!"
And then, scooting quickly on hands and knees, Sheryl shoved Patti's cunt and ass aside so that Patti disengaged from Lance's up-thrusting cock beneath her. Lance's prick stood straight and available then, and Sheryl quickly took it into her mouth and began nursing with a fury. Lance didn't seem to care so long as hot, clenching flesh remained about his hard-on and he continued fucking Sheryl's mouth now instead of Patti's red-haired cunt.
Everyone in the group obviously understood Sheryl's insatiable need for cocksucking, for Patti did not protest the taking of her partner. Instead, she quickly scooted over to Walter and thrust her dripping pussy into his face.
Walter hesitated, interrupting his stroke into Audrey, but Audrey said, "Go ahead, Walter. It's all right. Go ahead and suck her. We have to share. The poor g-girl has t-to have s-some-one. She's just about t-to c-come and so am I, Suck her cunt, but d-don't stop fucking me, Walter ... Ohhhhhh! Please don't stop!"
Walter had never sucked one girl's vagina and fucked another's at the same time, and, as he greedily gulped at the swollen labia and tongued the swollen clit, he clasped Patti's ass hard and inhaled deeply, from the gushing, fragrant cunt. Realizing that Audrey had begun her orgasm, he drove hard for his climax, too. Fortunately, Patti was on the brink also, and so the three of them went off in a wailing crescendo of passion together.
The entire scene then became a miracle of simultaneous pleasure, for Gerald screamed that he was "going off' inside Sheryl as Sheryl's throat gargled and her entire body shuddered. "Oh, you queen of cocksuckers!" Lance shrieked, letting his load fly and telling Sheryl, "Nobody can ever get enough of your mouth!"
At last the room was silent, only the gasping of breaths evident as everybody lay in a satisfied heap. Several minutes later, Walter lifted Audrey to her feet. Let's go to our own bed," he said. "I-I've never been so sexed out in my life."
Walter didn't care if they were being rude. He and Audrey didn't even bother to pick up their clothing. They staggered together up the stairs, collapsed into bed and, cuddling close, fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Walter Jordan awoke in the upstairs bedroom, realized he was all alone in bed and panicked. Then, slowly, it dawned on him that Audrey had gone to work at her secretarial job. Squinting, he glanced at his wrist watch and saw that it was almost 9:00. He lit his pipe and gazed out the window at the clear, bright morning, the near-deserted beach and the waves splashing flat and white on the brownish-white sand.
"It's just the two of us, professor," a coquettish voice said from the doorway. "We're all alone." It was the red-haired Patti, sans her garish make-up, stark naked and grinning.
"Uh-good morning," Walter said.
"Good morning," Patti said, then tiptoed across the room to his bed and climbed in. "Umm, you're nice and warm," she said, cuddling up and stroking his chest with her long nails. "It's nice to have another man around the house-a man, and not just a boy. Gerald's at work at Howard Johnson's, and Lance is probably down by the shore doing his Demosthenes number-you know, orating and reciting his poetry at the waves."
"This is most friendly of you, Patti," Walter said. "You youngsters certainly are gregarious and uninhibited."
"Right," Patti said, and her hand ran down over his stomach to his penis. "We're the friendliest group in the world. Feel like making love?"
"I hadn't given the matter any thought," Walter said. "But do I have any choice?" His prick stiffened under Patti's expert manipulation.
"Of course you do," Patti said. "Everybody does. But I have a feeling you'd probably like to fuck me as much as I'd like to fuck you. I wouldn't try to compete with Sheryl's mouth, Walter. I'm just talking about straight, plain, old screwing. I liked the way you kissed my pussy last night. You're the only man here I haven't made it with regular, though. How about it? Think of it as a housewarming, a welcome gesture."
Her hand was jacking his erection now and she was blowing in his ear. He turned over on his side and took her curved, firm body in his arms. "All right," he said, his breath coming fast. "I suppose Audrey will understand all this." He palmed her erect nipples and ran his hand over pert little butt.
"Of course she will," Patti said. "We all understand that you two are a pair, but that doesn't prevent extra-curricular fucking. Besides, I have to go out and screw for money again today. This may be the only decent sex I have all day. Lie on your back, will you, and let me get on top? I like to fuck that way best. Leave everything to me."
Walter complied, and Patti straddled him and began inserting his hard prick immediately into her slick snatch. For a girl who hustled, he was surprised that her cunt had lubricated so quickly and that it seemed tight and small. He attributed the heat and snugness of her vagina to youth. His prick was imbedded halfway now and he instinctively stroked her ass and played with her tits until his cock was all the way up her.
"Ummm, you have a nice hard-on, Walter," Patti said, riding his cock gently so that velvet-textured walls of her wet vagina produced a delicious friction. "I love to fuck in the morning ... oouuu ... yeah. Suck my boobies?"
Walter drew each of her tits into his mouth and fucked in a moderate rhythm. When they had established a mutually comfortable tempo, Patti put her lips next to his ear and began telling him how much she liked his prick inside her.
"Most men love cock-talk," she said. "You'd be surprised how many of the guys I make it with for money insist on my saying all kinds of things. A guy the other day just had me say over and over again, "Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!"
"It is wonderful," Walter found himself saying. "Go ahead and say something like that to me. "Say a lot of things-I mean, if it doesn't remind you too much of whoring."
"Oh, no," she cooed. "It's different with you. Ummm. Fuck my pussy, baby, and make me come. Your nice cock really fills me up. Does my cunt feel nice and hot and tight on your cock, hmmm?"
"That's it," Walter said. "That's what I like to hear. Your cunt is beautiful and young and hotter than boiling butter." Walter grimaced at his own choice of words, but he wasn't concerned about metaphor or being articulate at the moment. He was enjoying this somewhat unemotional taking of his pleasure, this simple fucking of this young girl without promises of love or eternal devotion. It was a bit like masturbation, he supposed, but of course there was the grinding of her snatch and her incredibly firm ass and tits to grasp as he shoved his hard-on steadily between her legs. And then, too, there was the satin-sounding voice that spurred him on with four-letter words and compliments.
"Hold still a second," Patti said.
Walter did, and Patti triple-timed her ass so that the tip of his dick tingled dangerously close to a premature orgasm. Then she stopped and stuck her tongue in his ear. "Like that, huh? Feel good on your dick?"
"Yes, indeed," Walter said. "You know your trade well."
"That's because I love to fuck the way Sheryl loves to suck," she said. "I think I'd rather fuck than anything."
"Y-yes," Walter said, "I do believe I would, too."
She laughed earthily in his ear. "Getting ready to get your rocks off?" she inquired, grunting.
"Uh-huh."
"Me, too. Let's make it then. Let's go off together."
Her cunt worked faster on his cock now, really milking his member, and she reached behind her buttocks to fondle his balls. "Come, baby," she said. "Come in my pussy. Now!"
That did it. Walter raised his head from the pillow, his face bulging and flushed as he drove savagely at the young cunt. "Okay," he said. "Yeah, Oh, yeah."
Her young eyes seemed to be studying every expression on his face, he noticed, as he approached his climax. Her own expression seemed to be that of a curious little girl. Then her. face contorted as if she were in pain or ecstasy and she slammed her pelvis very hard at his prick. "Oh, daddy ... yes, daddy," she grunted through clenched teeth. "I'm coming now!"
That was all she said, but her delivery of the simple lines was as erotic as any orgasmic statement Walter had ever heard from a female. He pumped hard, felt his cock jolt, then he filled her seething, hot channel with his sperm. The staccato burst of her breath lingered for a long time in his ear, but finally she raised herself high from his stout shaft and lay quietly beside him.
"Thanks, Walter," she said. "I hope I can get you often in the morning. You fuck good, like a real man should. You start my day right. Honest." She kissed him quickly, then jumped up and raced for the door. "Well, got to be going. Too-da-restroom."
And except for weekends, when Audrey stayed home, that's the way it went almost every morning. The boys-Gerald and Lance-invariably departed early, and then either Patti fucked him or Sheryl performed one of her incomparable mouth jobs on him. Audrey didn't mind a bit.
By the end of August, Walter had lost fifteen pounds and was beginning to look a bit haggard, but he never felt better in his life. Each day, after his morning sex sessions with either Sheryl or Patti, he lay on the beach or strolled about town or added more handwritten pages to the journal he had begun keeping. He had accumulated nearly a hundred-and-fifty pages of character study and observations of the youths he had observed in Venice. He had been accepted totally by the intellectual poets who hung around The Gremlin, his beard was long and his skin was deeply tanned. There was just one problem. The upcoming semester at Stanhurst was about to begin and soon he would have to leave.
Could he take Audrey, with whom he had fallen deeply in love, and Sheryl, who had addicted him hopelessly to her brand of oral love-making, with him? He felt that he had to have them both-either that or give up his teaching career. He knew that this dual need-a kind of perverse, animal lust on the one hand and an intellectual need and genuine love on the other-could present all kinds of problems. First, would the girls agree to what would amount to a kind of polygamous marriage? He wondered if Audrey would be willing to share him with the oral-specialist, Sheryl. Also, to be absolutely blunt, would Sheryl be willing to accept the role of 'cocksucker in residence?'
As the days before his return to Stanhurst University drew near, Walter postponed and procrastinated an honest talk-session with the girls. Approaching the girls with such a proposal might offend both of them! Also, it struck Walter himself as being somewhat on the "sick" side. How could he have let himself fall so deeply into such a situation? If Ambrose "Biff' Cuthbert, or anybody else at Stanhurst knew what he was considering, they would no doubt have him kicked out of the university, tenure or not. Yes, he had written an "experimental novel" all right, and it was titled, Polygamy: The Professor, The Lady, and The Cocksucker. His need to retain Audrey Courtland was rational, he felt, since it was similar to the relationship he had once enjoyed with the lovely Karen Ingraham. But his need for Sheryl Atlee defied all reason! He spent hours daily searching for some explanation, but he kept coming up with the same answer: You, Professor Walter Jordan, are not a civilized gentleman. You are a crude, selfish and perverse animal!
Why, he wondered, had his relationship with red-haired Patti West been pleasant but not addictive, while his dual need for both Audrey and Sheryl had become an obsession? He did not know. He was at an impasse, and he did not know how to properly handle the situation. He wished that he were a professor of anthropology, could arrange some sort of extended "Leave of absence," and could take the girls and go and live with some tribe that understood his feelings and needs.
Of one thing he was certain. He would have to speak to both girls soon-in fact, immediately. He dreaded to think of how Gerald Shipley and Lance Falvo would react.
CHAPTER NINE
It was on a Saturday afternoon, just ten days before the beginning of the fall semester at Stanhurst, when Walter Jordan summoned up sufficient courage and the opportune moment arrived to make his proposal to the group. All five of them happened to be present in the big house at the same time. It was midafternoon, and Lance, Gerald, Patti and Sheryl were fairly high on wine and grass.
"So what's the big meeting about?" Lance inquired smugly, puffing on a joint. "I mean, like-uh-why are we all herded here into the living room here-uh-like cattle or something?"
"Yeah," Patti said. "Is something the matter?"
"Hey, this isn't some university, you know?" Gerald said. "This isn't some classroom, professor."
Walter raised his hands, asked them all to be seated, then paced the room as he searched for the right words. Finally, he began. "As you already all know," he said, "my livelihood is derived from teaching English Literature at Stanhurst University. I have enjoyed my stay here. immensely. I couldn't begin to tell you what this vital experience has meant to me in terms of coming to grips with myself, truly learning about the youth of today, expanding my consciousness and learning the truth regarding both my physical and emotional needs."
"Fuck the bullshit, prof!" Lance said. "Just talk, huh?"
"Yeah, if you're leaving, just say so," Gerald said.
"Leave him alone!" Audrey commanded and took her place at Walter's side. "Go ahead, Walt," she said. "Shoot, honey!"
Patti was filing her nails and Sheryl was sucking her thumb. Walter cleared his throat and continued. "Well, it will be necessary for me to return to Stanhurst to resume my teaching duties one week from Monday," he said. "In a way, I would like to remain here with all of you, leading this carefree life, but I cannot. No, my place is at Stanhurst. I know that now. However, two things have occurred which necessitate this gathering."
"Oh, shit man," Lance sighed. "How long is this going to last? So split. Goodbye. Nice knowin' ya!"
"We're truly going to miss you, professor," Gerald said. "Is that what you want to hear? Okay, now let's all fuck or something. Sorry, but I'm like Lance. I don't dig these Douglas MacArthur type speeches. Adios, Walt. Hope you return and all that."
"Please, gentlemen," Walter said. "Please. Do me the courtesy of hearing me out."
"Yeah," Sheryl said, scowling as she removed her thumb from her mouth, "Let's give him a little courtesy, huh?"
"What are the two things you mentioned?" Audrey asked quietly.
"The two things are you and Sheryl." Walter said, speaking more quickly now that the cat was out of the bag. "I must return to Stanhurst, but, if possible, I want both you and Sheryl to accompany me."
"Jesus Christ, what do you need with two of them?" Gerald asked.
"And what's wrong with me, prof?" Patti asked, pouting. "Do I have leprosy or something? Oh, I get it"-Patti laughed, then addressed the group-"he has the 'proper' Audrey for a showpiece and companion, but he wants Sheryl along 'cause he-likes the way she sucks his cock." Patti rolled on the floor then, giggling and holding her sides. "Gee, Audrey, if you'd learn how to suck a cock properly you could have him all to yourself ... hah, hah ... that's a good one!"
Embarrassed Walter found himself unable to glance at Audrey, but he forced himself to continue. "Unfortunately, Patti, what you have said is absolutely true. I don't know how or when it happened, but the fact is I need both of these girls for the very reasons you mentioned." He lowered his gaze. "I hope neither of the girls in question is offended. Believe me, I don't mean to relegate Sheryl solely to the role of-of cocksucker, nor Audrey solely to the role of intellectual stimulator and conventional bed-partner. Nor am I implying that you, Patti, are deficient in any way. As you know, we have had many pleasant sessions together, and you are intelligent. It's just that I can't take three girls with me, can I? Two is stretching it a bit as it is."
"Jesus, what ego!" Lance said. "How the fuck do you know they'll even go with you, prof? like, maybe Gerald and I are all the males they need. You're an old man, you know?"
"Yeah," Gerald echoed. "What do you say, girls? We were doing fine before he arrived on the scene. Who needs him, huh? What do you say?"
Walter raised his hands, calling for silence. "What you say is absolutely true, Gerald," Walter said, nodding and rubbing at his slightly gray temples. "Perhaps I am being a bit presumptuous. However, I propose to offer several things in exchange for these two exquisite females. This sounds highly chauvinistic, I realize, and even a bit barbaric, but I feel that I am making an offer not too unlike that made by males in certain tribes where cattle and other valuables are exchanged for wives.
"First, I am offering education for both girls. I will see to it that Audrey may take post-graduate courses of her choice at Stanhurst free of charge to her. That is, I will pay for her classes and her room and board while she resides with me.-likewise, Sheryl may begin her education at whatever level is suitable-absolutely free, with room and board thrown in."
Patti jumped up, obviously angry. "Jesus, what the hell's wrong with me? Maybe I'd like an education, too."
"Dummy up," Lance said to her. "You don't write poetry and you can't suck a cock worth a damn. You'll have to find a Ph.D. who just-likes to fuck. Period."
Walter winced. "I-I wish you wouldn't put it quite that way, Lance." Walter pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I-uh-"
"Why not?" Lance goaded. "It's true, isn't it? Why pussyfoot around? Tell it like it is!"
"Yes, I suppose it is," Walter said. "Well, that's my proposal. I don't expect to force my terms on you, but I had to express my feelings at this time as precisely as possible. Oh, yes, and should you girls accept, I want it understood that there will be no use of drugs about the house. Maybe a little grass now and then, but no pill-popping or hard stuff. Mind you, too, that there is much to be worked out. I would have to arrange living accommodations so that we would not appear to be living together-if you know what I mean. You see, there are certain moral standards expected of a professor. It could be worked out satisfactorily however, providing you are willing. I'm certain of it."
Still, Walter could not look into Audrey's eyes. He wondered if he should not have approached her first, privately. She might find his entire proposal insulting, or perhaps she had no intention of ever leaving Venice. He had just about gotten the nerve to look at her when Sheryl suddenly streaked across the floor on hands and knees, grabbed Walter's hips and buried her face in his crotch.
"Oh, Walter!" she exclaimed with delight. "I want to go with you! I want to! I've always wanted to go to college and be intelligent and smart and everything. Oh, yes! And I promise I won't suck anybody's thing but yours!" She unzipped his fly and took out his prick then and began kissing it ravenously.
"Ha, that'll be the day," Patti said sarcastically. "Can't you just see Sheryl being true to one man's prick? Ha, we all know there aren't enough pricks in the whole world to satisfy that girl. She's a-a freak, and everybody knows it. And he's a-a goddam latent queer. Yeah, prof, why don't you take along one of the boys here to satisfy your other secret desires?"
"Cut it out, Patti," Lance said, surprisingly coming to Walter's aid. "That isn't the same thing and you know it. Sheryl's great at cocksucking, a pro, a virtuoso. Yes, I think I see a certain justice in all of this. Yes, poetically speaking, I like this entire situation very much. You, Patti, will remain here and service Gerald and me. If it gets too much for you, we'll get another girl. Yes, you can go on hustling and Gerald can continue being a busboy. With fewer people around, there will be less distraction and I will write even better poems."
Patti jumped to her feet. "Chauvinist pigs! Why should I be punished just because I simply like to fuck? Does a girl have to be supersensitive, educated, beautiful, or a great cocksucker to get ahead in this world?"
"I think that's about the size of it," Lancfe said. "What do you think, Gerald?"
"Probably very true," Gerald said. "Yes, I think that's a reasonably true statement. And as Lance pointed out, it really has nothing to do with being homosexual, Patti. Also, it s-is to be an innate skill. You can't learn it, I mean. Although I guess you could go to school and become intellectual and sensitive." He shrugged, admiring Sheryl as she sucked on Walter's prick now.
"Look at her," Lance said. "Isn't that girl one in a million?"
"She certainly is," Gerald agreed. "We're going to miss her."
"I'll say." Lance said. "And can you imagine when she's smart, too? That girl can have anything she sets her sights on."
"You mean sets her lips on," Gerald corrected.
"Yes, that's what I mean, of course," Lance said. "Gee, I wish I could eat pussy better than any man on earth. Maybe some woman would subsidize me."
"No chance," Gerald said. "Just about all men eat pussy, and probably ninety percent are pretty good at it. Too much competition."
"Yeah, I guess you're right, damn it."
Still afraid to look at Audrey beside him, Walter stood helplessly while Sheryl noisily gorged herself on his stiff erection. Finally, he looked at Audrey, and to his delight she was smiling.
"I must admit that I would like to be the kind of woman who could meet all your needs, Walter," she said. "But I do understand. I think your offer is extremely generous, and I can hardly wait to get my master's degree at Stanhurst. Oh, it's going to be wonderful, darling. And I'm so happy for Sheryl. The girl really needs an education, you know, really craves learning, and between the two of us we can tutor her so that she'll get top grades. And just think! We can all three sleep in the same bed! Won't that be yummy? While she's doing that to you, I can do other things to you ... ummm. Of course, when she's not around, then we can make our own brand of love."
Walter felt both relieved and delighted that the girls had agreed to his proposal, but he found it difficult to express himself at the moment because of Sheryl's sucking on his cock. His face began twitching and the lower half of his body was bucking against his will.
"Sheryl!" Audrey scolded. "This is an important occasion that calls for some kind of celebration. Will you please hurry up? Look at you! You can't even stop sucking a cock long enough to properly thank your benefactor!"
"I think she's thanking her benefactor most appropriately," Lance said. "I mean, how could she possibly express her gratitude more forcefully, huh? Let's have a beer, Gerald, and watch her finish him off."
"Good idea," Gerald said. "This may be our last chance to see her in action."
Gerald hurried into the kitchen and returned with two cans of beer. He and Lance sat down on the floor close to the kneeling Sheryl then, sipped their beers and watched Sheryl's technique appreciatively.
"Wow, what dedication!" Lance said.
"Yeah, that's artistry!" Gerald agreed.
"I'm sure going to miss this girl."
"Yeah, me too."
Audrey, perhaps a bit jealously, studied Walter's strained facial expression, then shook her head and stared down at Sheryl impatiently. "Will you please hurry up, Sheryl? We're all waiting."
Without missing a beat, Sheryl managed to nod.
"She's d-doing the b-best she can," Walter offered. "You d-don't want to h-hurry her too m-much. We're going to f-finish in a m-minute. Please d-don't d-distract her." And then, before he could say anything further, Walter's eyes bulged and he began trembling all over as he reached his orgasm.
Embarrassed somewhat at the group's close scrutiny and the time pressure placed upon Sheryl, Walter quickly stuffed his prick back in his pants and fell back onto the davenport, still breathing hard. Audrey sat on his right and Sheryl sat down to his left, beaming happily as Lance and Gerald applauded her efforts.
Several minutes later, when Walter had regained his breath, he said, "You know, I think I'd better begin making arrangements at once. There really isn't a great deal of time before the semester begins. Hand me the telephone, would you, Audrey?"
"Certainly, dear," Audrey said. She rose, crossed the room to the white instrument and returned with the long extension cord trailing behind her.
"Thank you," Walter said, dialing. He knew Sheila O'Brien's number well. It was the same as the deceased Karen Ingraham's. He had called the number many times. He hoped that Sheila was home.
It rang four times, and then Sheila's voice said, "Hello."
Walter wasted no time explaining the unusual situation. Sheila was the sort of girl who would understand practically anything, so he was as direct as possible. When he had finished, he was delighted to hear Sheila say, "Why Water, I think this will be marvelous for you. Your vacation in Venice seems to be just what you needed, although I must admit that I am a trifle jealous." She laughed lightly.
She then explained that the situation could not be more ideal. She had given her landlord notice and would be leaving next week for Paris to continue her study of foreign languages on a special scholarship. "Isn't that wonderful?" she said. "Imagine getting such a scholarship!"
Walter congratulated her..
"So you see," she said, "there's no problem as far as propriety and your accommodations are concerned. The other half of the duplex is already vacant and my place will be available beginning next week! You can move the girls in one place and take the other for yourself. That way everything will look nice and proper, but you can still all live together. Want me to close the deal with the landlord for you?"
"That would be beautiful, Sheila," Walter said, grinning. "Would you?"
"It's the least I can do for you, darling. No problem. See you next weekend. I'm dying to meet your harem. 'Bye."
Walter hung up and announced the good news. Sheryl squealed with delight and dived for Walter's crotch, but Walter managed to ward her off. "Not again, dear. Too soon." Audrey encircled his neck with her arms. "I'm so happy, dear. It's going to be a beautiful arrangement. I just know it is."
"Yes," Walter said, beaming happily as both girls kissed his cheeks. "Stanhurst is going to have a professor next semester with vigor, force, a sense of urgency and mission!"
"You mean emission, professor," Lance said, chuckling.
They all laughed then.
"Yes, that too," Walter agreed, stroking his beard. "Hmm ... yes ... no question about it. Yes, indeed." Frowning significantly, he reached for his pipe. Already he was slipping back into his professorial role.