ETHAN Bowles, that dirty old man, sniffed the air and knew it was a good day. He scuttled across the park like a crab in a tattered coat, bent and unshaven and looking for just one thing. Oh, women would weep and small children would wail with fear before this summer day was over. The fiend was loose in the park and none were safe upon the land.
Heh! Heh! Heh! What nubile maiden would be sacrificed to his attack? Who would topple in shock at the very aspect of his terrible visage?
He sniffed the air and chuckled and as if by magic, as if there were some crass demon of the low people looking out for its own, there she was-a victim. Ethan saw her clear across the swan pond and bore down on her without even breaking step.
She was tall and slim with sunlight hair cascading over her shoulders. And the way she walked! Ethan's eyes weren't so good at this distance, but the way she walked told him she was a looker and knew it. She showed it all the time. He had known. It was in the afternoon breeze, that secret wink down under the dust and exhaust fumes.
He was closing in on her now and her time was near, but she couldn't know, sauntering slowly along the cement walk, lost in thoughts of her own short skirt pushed out so far by her terrific ass, bulging back and forth with each chosen step of those good, good legs. This was Ethan's day. He could hear her soft voice groaning with pleasure. He could see her legs pressed demurely together, now hesitantly spreading apart, skirt riding up over stocking tops out across hot white flesh. She's at his mercy.
She sobs with relief to feel her blouse pulled open and her breasts surrounded and squeezed free of her bra, sensitive nipples driving her wild down where her skirt is slipping up across her tiny pink panties, damp and sweet; she's wild, her panties are yanked down over the globes of her ass, her sunlight cunt tense and aching, she cries out.. . .
"Hello, my little dumpling," said Ethan with his most lascivious smile. "Hello, my sweetness, my vision of sweetness.. . . "
"Get lost, creep," she said, her voice hard, her face sharp.
"Now now, my dear," said Ethan, "we mustn't be like that. Is that any way to talk to a poor, lonely old man lost and left behind in this frenetic world, cast aside like an old bed sheet.. . ahem . . . like a worn-out dish towel?"
She tried to walk away from him but he stuck right to her heels.
"A lonely old man," he cried, "with no comfort, no one to look after him. No one even knows his name. Just, 'Flake off, creep.' I'm a weak old man. You reminded me of my daughter, God rest her soul, with those sweet eyes, that darting smile."
"Yeah?" she said, relenting a little.
"Like my very one and only martyred daughter," he wept, striking home. "A little angel. A saint. Why don't we step into the bushes and talk about it?"
"Why, you creep!" she squawked. "You dirty old man!" She slugged him in the shoulder, knocking him. several feet and jarring his teeth. His shoulder ached.
"I'm just a lonely old man!" he yelped. "You just reminded me of my little saint of a daughter. I'll go back into the empty city. I'll leave you alone and go back to my loneliness. Just tell me what kind of panties you're wearing. They're pink, aren't they? Little pink ones?"
BAM! She knocked him clear across the walk and then she was on him like a bull ape. Every time he tried to get up she slammed him across the grass again. No sexy little biting and scratching. She had a punch like a concrete marine.
People started gathering now, mostly old biddies who said to each other, "Filthy old lecher," every time the broad flattened him again. Ethan began to fear he really might get killed and he howled and pleaded that he was just an innocent passer-by.
"Just out for a stroll in the park!" he was crying.
Ethan Bowles thought it was the end; chorus-girl angels in red satin bathing suits were unrolling his despicable life before his eyes when a handsome young junior executive strode up and the bitch clobbered Ethan once more and then wheeled around and threw herself into this guy's arms, crying, "Rick! Oh, Rick! Save me!"
Ethan saw a chance to save his miserable life before she went to work on him again, and he started crawling away on all fours.
"Darling," the son-of-a-bitch was saying, "I won't let anything happen to you."
Ethan had almost escaped, with only the two old ladies left on his trail saying to each other, "Lecherous old pervert," when the bitch saw he was getting away and called for more blood. She had a voice like a hawk and a face like a shop girl. Her hips were on the heavy side and her tits were on the meager side.
"There he goes!" she squawked, and Prince Valiant had to come striding over to what was left of Ethan, picking him up and shaking him by the collar.
"You filthy old beggar!" he said. 'If I ever catch you in this park again, I'll take you apart piece by piece!"
Then he threw Ethan down and took his girl friend, the boxer, away and the people seemed to just melt away. Ethan found himself lying alone on the ground in the middle of the park, his head sore and ringing. Even the old ladies had already put him out of their minds, and were now wandering along the walks pointing at birds.
Ethan felt like his brain had shaken loose. Shakily-he tried to get to his feet, but he stumbled and would have fallen if a strong hand hadn't caught him. It was a tough young woman with cropped hair, surplus fatigues, and combat boots.
"Thank you, my dear," he said, giving her the once over.
"My dear, my ass," she said, setting him firmly on his feet. "How do like that little pig? Just about knocked your head off and then when hotshot comes along, it's all lamb tears and save me save me. And that creep was just as bad. 'I won't let anything happen to you!' Jesus Christ, she could probably flatten him faster than she flattened you."
She dusted Ethan off with a few bone-jarring pats on the back.
"Anyhow," she said, "I just had to come over and tell you she was all fucked up." A few more pats. "You're no fiend. You're just a horny old man."
A few more pats and a mumbled, "Good as new," and she stomped off, leaving Ethan to watch her and wonder if she had any panties on at all under the baggy green fatigues. Finally, as his head began to come back to him, he managed to call out weakly, "I couldn't interest you in a little dabble in the bushes, could I?" She'd have big green panties to match her outfit.
Panties! Ethan slobbered at the very thought. Those tiny bits of soft tricot and elastic, the final mystery before she was bare. A woman's groan as she feels her panties coming down, her last line of defense coming down. The way the soft bit of material stretched just a little across the mound of cunt and stretched almost to the bursting to fit in her ass. The telltale marks the elastic left, gentle welts that showed how long ago she had been stripped.
Panties were almost Ethan's whole world. Those little ridges on the round rears of tight pants and dresses. A bit of nylon forgetfulness on a stairway, a flash of white in a quick, awkward reach up or stoop down, those are the things dreams are made of, those are things you can build a dream up from. That's the American way. For Ethan, panties were the difference between long, dreary years and a bright purpose in life.
Ah, for the filthy life of a dirty old man, stripping every female in sight, lusting and chuckling, feared by many, ostracized by all! Ethan chuckled evilly at being the plague of the city. He brushed the last cloud of dust from his jacked and sniffed the morning air, setting out again across the park.
"Hey, look at that hunk of he-man."
"Oh that's my man!" chanted a bunch of junior-high-school girls before Ethan even saw them to do any lusting, and he grumbled and fled off the path, girls giggling and calling behind him. Obnoxious little girls.
At the top of the hill he saw a young hippie girl sitting alone on top of a rock, reading. She was a slim little thing with downcast dark eyes and a rough, brown homemade dress-the perfect victim, small and frail, experienced enough to be willing, young enough to be excited, to find new heights. And you know what they say about hippies. They'll do it with everyone. It's their creed or something.
And she was way up on that rock. Heh! Heh! Heh! Just standing by the rock to talk, you could look up and up and up. What kind would she be wearing? All he had to do was walk over and take what he wanted. He was a fiend.
"Why, hello there, my dear," he said with a big, sloppy wink. "What book is that you're reading here in the park on this lovely day?" all the time creeping nearer to the sacred rock.
She looked up sharply, her train of thought interrupted, but then she was it was just a harmless old man and she smiled and said hello. She thought he was just a harmless old man, the foolish little fawn, but Ethan knew better. He was creeping closer to the rock.
It takes skill, takes planning. You can't just charge in staring at a crotch. You have to judge ahead of time the point of angle and the spot to stop and then it's like a quarter-back waiting to pass. He looks everywhere but where he's going to throw.
Then when you reach just the right spot it's all in one quick motion of the neck muscles, and pow, it's over before she can blink an eye. And he was creeping up on that spot right now. She wouldn't even know what happened. What a joy to be a dirty old man.
"I'm reading The Idiot by Dosteovsky," she said. "Have you read it?"
"The Idiot" he said, creeping, creeping, "Hmm, I believe I have. I just don't remember the story. Why don't you tell it to me? Sort of refresh my memory." Closer. Closer.
"I'm only a little into it, but it's about this Russian prince named Myshkin who keeps trying to be good but it never works out. And he's in love with this femme fatale who can't decide between Myshkin who's all good but kind of bland and hung-up-or this other guy, who's all bad but, you know, interesting."
"Interesting," cooed Ethan Bloles. "I may have read it in my youth. It sounds so familiar." Almost. Almost. Ready. Aim. Now, a twist supple as a youngster's wrist could turn . . .
But alas, what a disappointment. She's tucked a bit of skirt under her so the way is blocked, the day is black unless.. . it looks like a fold leading right up her slim little legs if he can just bend his head a little more to the side.
"It's so nice you're enjoying it," he was babbling. "Do you come to the park often? For myself, I come here quite a lot. Fresh air is good for an old man. And I meet many pleasant people."
The fold is following up her bare leg, a little higher; he can see up around her thigh now, but he can't quite see it all. If he can just bend his head over a little more . . .
"Yes indeed," he says, "I come here often. It's fresh air that keeps a man healthy. Don't you like fresh air, my dear?"
"Is something wrong with your neck?" she asks gently, "Or are you trying to look up my dress?"
She asks it like any old question and Ethan realizes he is nearly bent down to his waist, his head turned over as far as it will go. Not quite as subtle as he'd planned. With one more hopeless look, he rights himself with a sigh.
"I'm just an old man," he says. "It's a hobby. Don't call the police. I'm on my way."
She is surprised. "You mean that's the only reason you came over? You sad old man, don't you know you'll only get more lonely doing that? You've got to love people and they love you back. You've got to get interested in people, real people, people you can know and like."
"I'm a dirty old man," he told her proudly. "There's a certain heritage to be kept up."
She thought about that for a minute and at last said, "I can understand that. There's a certain nobility in that."
"Right," said Ethan, a little shaken that she wasn't going to hit him or call the cops. "Nobility it is. Now how about spreading your legs a little and letting me have a gander?"
He said it with his most fiendish, most dirty voice, but she just started laughing and she leaned down off the rock and kissed him on the cheek. On the cheek! These young people have no respect for the old ways, the rights and wrongs that made life understandable.
"Have you no sense of shame?" he demanded, but she just smiled. In her face he saw the end of dirty old men and he puffed and sputtered.
She said, "Come on, sit down, we'll talk a while."
"You insolent young pup!" he sputtered. "Don't you laugh at me. I'd like to pull that dress off you right here and lay you out on that rock!"
And she looked at him with such compassion he thought he'd have apoplexy.
"I know you would," she said with a voice that held complete understanding, like one soothing a child. "I know you would. But I've got somebody else right now. But you know what? I bet you'll find someone for you before you're done."
She smiled again and he was speechless. Nobody played fair any more. He stalked away. He turned back once and she waved to him. He pulled his jacket collar up and looked away as though it weren't meant for him and scurried off before anybody saw him.
Dirty old men should not make friends with victims. Dirty old men should not have any friends at all. Ethan was embarrassed at the friends he had, particularly Lynn Soo-more on that later -and he couldn't understand why they clung on to him.
He stalked across the hill to another section of the park, still glum until he saw a sight that warmed the cockles of his heart. There were children playing. That alone wasn't heartwarming. Groups of children were nothing to Ethan Bowles. But one little girl had wandered away from the fold and the wolf was about to descend.
"Why, hello there, little girl," said Ethan Bowles in his sweetest, most grandfatherly way. "Aren't you a pretty little girl? Are those your friends over there? Did you tire of playing games with them? I've got a good game we can play together. Here's how you play. You see if you can stand on your head and I'll give you a shiny new nickel just for trying. How would you like that?"
She looked at him with a face of candy and icing and everything nice and said, "You better give me a dollar quick."
"I don't know what you mean," said Ethan, still in his sweet voice.
"Fork it over quick, pervert," she said, "or I'll turn you over to the police."
Ethan was taken aback. "I just offered to play a little game," he said.
"Police!" she said and he dove for his wallet. He painfully parted with a dollar, but the shame of being outdone by a child was more painful.
"You waited too long," she snapped. "The price is two dollars now."
"Be reasonable," he pleaded. "I just barely live on my pension. I'm a poor old man."
"Police!" she called and he whipped out his other dollar and fled when she called to her friends. They chased him all over the park shouting, "Sucker!" and "Another dollar! Ha-ha! Another dollar."
He finally lost them by hiding in some thick bushes and not moving for a long time. He had a good view of the walk below in case the little monsters caught his scent-and also to get a little ogling in.
Ethan enjoyed sitting back and ogling sometimes. Molesting women and children was as a whole more fully satisfying, like any profession well done, but once a situation got started, he was on stage every minute with no time off for any watching. He was tired now, though, and he had put in some good work, so he could lounge back without guilt and just watch.
Some high-school girls came by, chattering among themselves, so fresh in their white knee socks and clear faces, in their short skirts and light blouses. Away with it all, except perhaps for the knee socks and the fresh, secret panties left on for the unveiling. Ah, high-school girls, crotches humming from back-seat, dark-couch groping, whole worlds to be opened in their eyes and cunts. High-school girls with new nerves jangling and new breasts ready for the hand.
Other girls and women went by, all good-looking from this far away. That's another thing ogling is good for. You don't have to break the not-quite-real image for the sometimes drab reality.
At the thought of reality, Ethan sagged a little. Even his eyebrows sagged. This was supposed to be a good day. But it was worth pondering that women were not quite the same when you got up close. Most people took advantage of him now instead of vice versa, and those who didn't, like that bloody hippie, only left him alone because they saw in him a dying breed, like the buffalo. It used to be that people were at least shocked. Now, from childhood up, everyone assumed that everyone else was a dirty old man and so when Ethan showed up, people who reacted at all were just disgusted that he was being common.
Any other heavy thoughts Ethan might have had were cut off by a passionate voice in the bushes nearby, whispering, "No, Rick!"
He turned silently to see the broad who had beaten him up and Sir Galahad with his hands cupping her small tits.
"But I love you, honey," said Rick. "You know I'd never do anything to hurt you. You mean everything to me."
He emphasized that with a kiss that lasted long enough for him to get one hand under the sweater and the other down her leg. She didn't groan, but Ethan did.
"Rick," she said, "If you're really a vice-president, how come you wanted to meet me out in a park?" and she shoved his hand away from her knee.
"Don't you dig it?" he said. "The spontaneity, the excitement of being outside, the fresh air."
"I think you're putting me on," she said. "I think you're just a mail-room Romeo."
He laughed a beautiful, ringing laugh and deftly one-handed, without letting go of the goods under the sweater; he handed her a card of some sort, but it must have said vice-president because she was impressed. He was handsome, the bastard. He said a bunch of crap into her ear very fast that Ethan couldn't hear, and over she went.
Ethan groaned and rubbed his crotch a little. She was getting to look good again. "Come on," he thought, "Get that little bitch's skirt up. Up above the stockings! Let's see those little pink panties! Come on, make her moan! Let's get this show on the road!"
Twice Rick reached down her legs and twice she pushed him away. Ethan had unbuttoned his trousers to rub better, but he was thinking maybe they weren't going to do anything after all. Prince Valiant knew better, though, and on the third try he got her, starting at her knee and going all the way up in one quick drive.
But she was wearing dark pantyhose that went all the way up and there was no trembling flesh to cross, just more nylon. She looked like a toy doll does when you push its dress up. Yes, Ethan even stooped to that depth. But this was no doll and she at least managed a grunt when Galahad touched home base.
"Rick," she said in a voice for the dentist, "It's so uncomfortable here."
Instead of answering, Rick started squeezing and rubbing her through the hose and kissing her some more and sometimes she would suck her breath in with a harsh whistle. Ethan pulled out his cock and started beating right along.
"Oh, all right," she said with cool resignation. "I don't usually do it on the first date, you know."
Rick assured her he knew while she pulled off the pantyhose, groaning as she hefted up enough to pull them from under her. She folded them and put them in her purse, careful the whole time to keep her skirt covering her. Ethan kept sort of in neutral the whole time, rubbing slowly but not going anywhere.
Then Prince Valiant took his jacket off and lay back on her, covering them both from the waist down, the thoughtful bastard, and then they worked around a lot under the jacket until Ethan was never sure when they really started up. Finally it was pretty obvious that the jacket was moving rhythmically, but there wasn't much action and Ethan was still hanging out in neutral.
"It hurts," she said at one point, but she didn't say what. Ethan realized then what a long time it had been since he had done any screwing, or even watched any real people do it. At least in the park, they didn't sob and go wild. That was one of the advantages of being a dirty old man. In your mind things work every time.
But Sir Galahad and the bitch were doing all right. It took her a long time, perhaps because the ground hurt her ass, but finally she at least started to breathe hard before her Prince rode off without her.
He started moving faster and she, sensing the ride was nearly over, dropped all pretenses and jacked her legs up to get it deeper into her and then the jacket slipped off and Ethan was back in business, slamming away as they slammed away.
Ethan found himself looking right up the alley Rick was a hairy son-of-a-bitch but he was hung good and for all that fur, you could see the rod pumping into her and it was getting wet. She'd knocked Ethan all over the grass, damn near killed him, for asking about her clothes, and now here he was looking right up her plain brown cunt as some dude pumped his big cock into her on their first lunch date because he forged some kind of vice-president card. And that dude was nearing his time, leaving her far behind. But Ethan was right with him all the way.
"Come on," whispered Ethan, watching hypnotized as the big cock cleaved into her, faster now. She bounced her ass a little, a good-looking ass, you couldn't take that away from her, but she groaned because a twig stuck her and that was it for the Sonny Liston of the secretarial set, while Prince Valiant started groaning over the real thing.
And so did Ethan, softly at first-but the faster Rick went, the louder Ethan groaned until just a moment before Rick finished, old Ethan came with a big groan and a yell of "Gawd-damn! Sock her! Sock her! That-a-way!"
She screamed, "Rick, what's that?" but Prince Valiant was too busy to hear and then he groaned and looked up and she looked over his shoulder and there was Ethan, putting the finishing touches on a good time.
"It's that man again!" she shrieked. "Kill him, Rick! Kill him!"
Rick took a flying leap and would have done Ethan in right there but his trousers got caught around his ankles and Ethan got a head start, running across the park stuffing his cock back in his fly, Rick finally bursting out of the bushes after him and the children recognizing him and running after him shrieking, "Pervert! Dirty old man!" and it was almost like the good old days.
Ethan ran out of the park and down the street and lost them when he jumped on a bus and rode away.
On the way downtown, he wondered about women and why they did what they did, and he was too tired even to ogle anyone.
2
ETHAN plodded up the front steps of his tenement with aching feet. He lived on the second floor front where he could sit and watch the women pass below ana groan and ogle. How he wished he lived in a basement apartment so he could lie down all day and look up. But he lived on the second floor and found it hard even to make it to the building door. And, blast the luck, to totally destroy his wonderful day, there was Lynn Soo getting her mail. Ethan stopped on the steps like he had dropped something, but she saw him and came out so there was nothing to do but trudge up the stairs to her.
"Oh, hello, Ethan!" she said, always smiling and glad to see him. He just puffed and hemmed and hawed. "You are looking so good today," she was .saying. "Have you been out doing an exercise? Yes?"
"Yeah," he said, biting his lip and looking down at his feet. "I guess you could say that."
"I'm so glad I caught you coming in," she said, truly glad. "You will come up and we will have some tea together? Of course!"
"Well, uh," said Ethan, and then he did just he was trying not to do. He looked at her. And his resolve crumbled. He loved her. Worse, he loved her like an old man loves a beautiful young girl.
Lynn Soo was beautiful. Her father had been a Chinese merchant and her mother a Canadian stripper. They had been killed in an accident six years before. Lynn Soo was engaged to marry a Greek seaman on his way to Africa and back on a slow freighter.
She was tall and slim, long black hair falling on small round shoulders, turtleneck sweater sharply angling out from her full breasts that seemed not so much sexy as pretty, like the rest of her. Her bellbottoms flowed easily across her own tight bottom and tapered down long, fine legs to her tennis shoes. But her face was what held Ethan, on two levels. First, because it was a pretty, not a beautiful Chinese statue's cold face, for her mother's nose and jaw line were too strong for that, but her black hair and slanted eyes and deep skin and pert nose and wide, mobile mouth made her pretty, made her irresistible, made her impossible to look away from.
But on the second level, the spark that kept that face quick, the reality of the smile, the joyfulness in the laugh, the easy goodness of her eyes, they murdered Ethan, they chopped him up. He hated it. He was a grouch and a dirty old man and she couldn't do this to him. But she did. Every time. And he followed her like a happy, arthritic puppy, up the stairs to her apartment, across the hall from his, and he drank tea like a gentleman.
Later in the afternoon he came back to his own grubby apartment when she had to go out shopping. He was feeling miserable and wonderful and was sore from smiling. That hippie in the park had it all backwards. It's when you get close to people that you get lonely. Today was the worst. He almost felt mellow, and it was tearing him apart. He was miserable.
He sat in his window and looked down at the street and she looked up as she left and waved. And he waved back, right there in public. It was terrible. He watched her walk up the street, trying to think of throwing her down on the bed, trying to drool over her shapely butt as she walked up the street, but she walked so easily, she was so familiar to him, that he just sort of liked her butt, felt a little proud of it, in fact, because he knew it so well, felt proud of it. Disgusting!
And when she was gone around the corner, he was left sitting in the window of a grubby flat on a grimy, gruesome street, very much alone. It was at these times that he felt the worst, during the transition from needing another person to adapting to aloneness.
So he sat in the window waiting for Lynn Soo to come back but she didn't, and he tried to get interested in the goings-on down in the street and he couldn't and he just sat there in the window. He went and got a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator and came back to the window. A police siren came down through the city and suddenly a squad car, lights flashing, and then three more squad cars, squealed around the corner and stopped down the block.
Ethan leaned out, along with half the rest of the people on the block, to see what was going on, but you couldn't see anything. Probably a robbery. But it got him off Lynn Soo and pretty soon a woman came down the street in a nice short black dress and from this height she was pretty good-looking, and Ethan chuckled a little to himself, heh, heh, heh! And he felt a little better.
What happened then happened so quickly it's hard to follow. Ethan was chuckling and trying to think filthy thoughts but Lynn Soo was still in the back of his mind so, to begin with, his mind was a mixture of several textures-lust, compassion, hopelessness, despair, rejoicing. And then, watching this particular woman in black knit that accentuated her curves and made her flow, watching this woman whom he wanted so much as she walked right by under his window and off into the city, never to be seen again, a pattern of thoughts, like a set of tumblers in a safe, fell into delicate balance for the first time, along with one last unknown tumbler, an unknown ability that had been hidden from Ethan all his life.
He thought, roughly translated, "Don' t go. I need you." That's very roughly translated, just as saying a safe stops at "certain numbers" is a rough translation of those numbers, but it won't open the safe.
He thought, as he had thought a million times before, "Stop! I want to strip you and fuck you, you beautiful broad! No! No! Don't walk past! . . . "
. . .And she stopped.
Just like that, on the sidewalk, she stopped. Ethan was looking down at her, in the same mood, vaguely wondering why she had stopped there. Maybe she was looking for someone in the building. He was looking down at her and absent-mindedly wishing low-necked dresses would come back in style until such a time as he got a basement apartment, when the thought occurred to him.
What if she had stopped because he wanted her to stop?
The implications were staggering. He laughed it off, waiting for her to do something. Then, the more he looked down at her, the more he believed maybe he had .stopped her.
The excitement shot up in him like a sky rocket, and when it reached the top of its ride, it changed to terror of unknown and kept going up.
In his fear and shock, he turned away from the idea, pushed it away as repulsive. It happened too fast, it was a reaction of fear like a muscle spasm, and the spell was broken. The woman in the black dress looked around her a moment, then walked on.
Ethan leaned out the window, watching her walk up the street, his mouth wide open, his eyes bulging. He had to get hold of himself. She was getting away. And he was letting her go for no reason. Now that he no longer felt that strange, terrifyingly gossamer bond between them, he felt no fear.
"Come back here!" he commanded, but she kept on walking. He could feel when he did it he was still shying away from that look between them.
"Stop! Come back here," he commanded again, and she kept walking down the street.
"Stop! Come back!" he thought gently instead of imperiously, but she kept on walking.
"Wait!" he wailed in his mind. "Come back!" he pleaded, but it was no good. She walked right down to the corner, crossed the street, and disappeared.
Ethan Bowles was stunned. He sat hollow-eyed and shaking. He didn't know what to think. Had it really happened? She'd really stopped, but had he had anything to do with it?
He came in and paced unhappily around the room, thinking, "Coincidence. Pure coincidence," and "She stopped when I said stop and left when I got scared," and "Preposterous!"
Round and round the room he paced. Sometimes he would stop pacing long enough to scurry to the window, point at someone, and command, "Stop!" The biggest reaction he got was once when someone happened to look up while he was pointing, and waved back to him.
He was going crazy. Now he spent more time pointing than pacing, but then he would stop and come into the room and run around in a circle, and then he would be back at the window.
He tried it sweetly. "Stop, please."
He tried it desperately. "You've got to stop!"
He tried it commandingly. "Stop!"
He tried it logically. "Stop, you are in my power."
People just kept walking right by beneath the window, not even pausing. Once someone stopped and Ethan thought he had it, but the man was only looking at the address and without waiting to be released by Ethan, just walked right into the building.
Ethan was desperate, torn between the terrible feeling that he had stood and watched his ship sail away, and the feeling of ridicule at himself for even considering what he was considering.
Now he would point, fail, and run around the room, scurrying back to the window to point again.
He tried it subtly. "You are thinking of stopping here."
He tried it harshly. "Stop or I'll kill you!"
He tried it evasively. "I wonder what it's like in the country today.. . . Stop!"
He tried thinking it as calmly as he could. He tried thinking it while tense and straining. Nothing. He had stepped off the gangplank for only a second, even though it was the first time in his life he'd had a ticket for anything, and his ship had sailed off without him.
With the whole world briefly his, the room was unbearably confining. He felt the walls pressing in on him. He felt jailed off from the rest of the world. Once more he rushed to the window and tried the thought hysterically, "Stop!! Stop!! Stop!! Stop!! " It was no use. So Ethan fled from the room and down the stairs and outside, down the street, away from the walls, out where he could think.
He wandered aimlessly for hours, until the sun was beginning to go down and everything began to look like neon in the sunset. For an incredibly long time, considering Ethan Bowles' weak, slovenly nature, he kept on trying with no hope of success. Everyone he passed, he tried it on. There was one tragic point at which he was even trying it on dogs and pigeons, but to no avail. He had lost it.
People went by, laughing and talking. They seemed small and far away. Their joys were petty things compared to Ethan's woes. He'd felt pain before. He'd been sick and hurt; and his age had crowned his maturity with garlands of aches and pains that would have left a younger man rolling and clutching himself. Ethan had gotten used to each pain, had learned, adapted, grown accustomed to each new symptom of his very obvious mortality. But he didn't think he would ever get used to this feeling of loss. He was sure none of those old Greeks had had tragedies like his. They just lost gold or kingdoms or wars or did single, gross things. Ethan had lost every cunt in the whole fucking world. That was tragedy!
He had made it all the way up to the park in his misery. He hadn't walked this far in ten years. That's how miserable he was. He looked across the stone ledge at the park and tried to remember the ecstasy he had felt when Sir Gallahad's coat fell away, tried to think of the last time someone had really been shocked and not just disgusted at anything he could dream up to do, but nothing cheered him. It all brought him further and further down.
It was getting dim now, everything having just the slightest leftover tint of red. He was just wondering if today hadn't been just one last red glow in his life, whether night hadn't finally come, when he looked down the sidewalk and saw her.
This is not to say it was the same girl in the same black dress. That's highly unlikely in a city this size. But it was some girl somewhat like the other girl, in a dress like the other girl's, and she was half a block away just like the other girl. To Ethan's failing eyes all girls wearing short black dresses and walking a half a block away are the same girl, and that's what's important.
It's excruciatingly, penultimately important because there by the park in the evening when he saw her, he thought the same thoughts for a flash. He was, for an instant, returned to the moment in the window and the thoughts of Lynn Soo and black dresses and loss and life and the other thoughts that made the dial spin and the tumblers click and there, halfway up the block, with the whole world swirling around her, the girl stopped in her tracks.
Ethan too stood rooted to the spot. He felt the connection. He felt the fear. He felt the jaws of hell opening up under him and he felt he was falling into them!
But he fought it. It was nothing, a parlor trick, he shouted to himself. People should have discovered this long ago. And maybe they had. Who'd want to talk about it? People without it would be afraid and try to kill you. Lots of people probably had it. It was nothing. He screamed to himself, it was nothing.
Ethan Bowles stood on the sidewalk, shaking. Half a block away, a girl in black stood silent, waiting.
Ethan was afraid, but he wasn't going to break the connection this time. He kept having the image of himself in his mind, trying to hold on to a great steamship to keep it from sinking and being dragged under himself, but he held onto this unearthly bond and it stayed, and he began to get a hold on himself.
"C-c-c-come here," thought Ethan Bowles hesitantly, and the girl began to walk down the sidewalk towards him as naturally as if she were in her own home.
Fifteen or twenty feet from him Ethan got another shock.. He saw clearly that it was a different woman, hair slightly reddish instead of black. So it wasn't just with one girl. The immensity of that thought shook him up again. He had assumed the power was with every woman when he had lost it, but when he had it again even the control of one woman was overwhelming so that the first proof of general power shook him to the core. He almost lost the bond again.
But not quite. Now she stood before him with downcast, waiting eyes, like she might be sitting for a long, dull subway ride. Ethan looked like he saw the secrets of the whole universe unfolding.
"Ahem," said Ethan. "Good evening, my dear."
There was no answer. She had a nice face. If he had approached her and she had yelled at him or gotten disgusted her face might have been too sharp, her nose too sharp, her eyebrows penciled in too dark, her mouth a little too big. But now, standing at rest, she was good-looking.
She might have been a college student or an office worker. Her breasts lifted the front of the dress to a pleasant angle. Her black suede boots with the black dress made her look very lush and rich. Under any circumstances you might have looked twice. Under these circumstances, she was a goddess.
Ethan didn't know what to do. People were passing on both sides of them. They stood as though they were talking and no one even blinked an eye, no one suspected, but one strange move here and they would attract attention, and that was the last thing Ethan wanted right now.
He thought fast, over the past few moments. She had stopped. Then she had walked to him.
"Start walking into the park," he thought, and she turned and walked through the entrance into the park, Ethan following at a discreet distance.
Ethan watched her hips move in the knit. He saw her as a real person, a woman, a human being. He couldn't stop shaking.
"Turn left," he thought, mixing up directions in his excitement. He was actually trying to steer her towards a secluded spot up to the right.
"I mean . . . uh . . . turn to the . . . " he was babbling in his mind, but she had turned the correct way anyhow. She wasn't obeying the words he thought. She was somehow following his basic wishes before they were translated into words.
He stumbled up the hill behind her, shaking and jumping like a wind-up toy. He couldn't think about what he was going to do. It was too immediate. But he was vaguely aware that he felt towards her much more like he thought of Lynn Soo than he would have wanted. At the moment they had been standing together on the sidewalk he had looked so closely into her face and seen the person there, he had lost his objectivity. He was having a hard time thinking of himself as a professional dirty old man. He wasn't taking her off to the bushes to play patty-cake and drink tea, but he liked her as well as lusted after her, and although that seemed to strengthen the thought bond between them, it also put a certain crimp in Ethan's style.
She stepped into the glen and waited patiently for him. Ethan was shaking uncontrollably now.
"What if she's just putting me on?" he thought. "What if it's a trap and when I walk in, she screams?"
He finally settled on testing this thing step by step. First he slipped behind her and crouched partially hidden by the bushes. Her hair was clipped up, but a bit of it had fallen over her face when she had brushed against a branch; now she brushed it out of her face. Ethan hadn't told her to do that and he almost turned tail and ran. He would have fled if she had turned around, but she remained facing away.
Then, very carefully, he wished something in her mind.
The luxury of it. She bent over slowly from the waist, stretching far forward to pick up a twig. And just that slowly, in a vision Ethan spent weeks, even months waiting to watch, being in the right place at the right time, the skirt began to slide up her legs.
The luxury of it! Let it be known that right there, right then, for Ethan's benefit alone, there appeared between the black of her boots and the black of her skirt, a beautiful round expanse of baby-blue nylon.
Ethan stopped shaking. He forgot all about being a dirty old man. He wanted to run up and kiss her and thank her, but he was afraid it would break the spell.
So she bent over and reached the ground with her long arms and her panties pulled tight against her fine ass, and then she rose back and stretched her back to get out the kinks, like a cat, uncalled for. Then she turned around and walked towards him.
He was petrified. The jig was up. He had never been afraid before of women screaming for the cops, but this was so quiet, so nice, he was terrified.
But instead of screaming, she came over and knelt down beside him, and it finally got through to Ethan that she was just following the second part of his plan. She knelt delicately, back kept straight, her eyes downcast as before, her face softer than before, and she pulled the dress slowly up keeping it pressed lightly against her thighs as they spread up towards her hips.
Like a green leaf bending slightly in a breeze, the hem of her dress caught for a moment high up between her legs, caught on a soft, gentle mound with just a small triangle of taut blue nylon showing, then slid up over the crest, catching once more on her slick blue rear, and then sliding easily.
It slid easily up past the blue elastic that kept her hidden bikini as tight as a film of bath oil against her tender parts, up across her smooth, bare hips and tummy. It passed her belly button and skipped up her chest, at last caught solid against her prominent breasts. One last yank and the knit hem rested up on those breasts, where they bulged from the strain of her white bra.
She still had that faraway, wistful look on her face, tinged with just a little pleasure. She was obviously under his power, but he still didn't know what she was aware of. She kept her dress cradled in her arms folded over her breasts as Ethan silently crept around behind her. Her dress still hung down almost to her panties in the back and the globes of her ass were tight and firm and irresistible. He commanded her not to look around and reached unbelievingly down.
There was the feel of her firm body. But just as he felt the curve of her through her panties, so he felt her mind-straight through her body. And that wasn't all. She was also feeling his mind for the first time, and there was information going back and forth. He jumped back. It was like an electric shock. He didn't know what to do.
She still seemed under control. If anything, she was a little flushed. He touched her bare back tentatively, and he felt the rush again, like the lock of a canal when the water rushes to equalize its level. Ethan wanted to jump back again, but he held on. He was shaking. And then she was shaking too, back bending a little as she shook.
Then everything calmed down again, as though the water had reached its own level and was still. He felt the bond now like a physical thing between them, with sparks of thoughts passing back and forth along what seemed like a shelf of light through a dust-filled room, a misty sheet of light between them.
He wasn't aware that he had looked away from her until he noticed her skirt had fallen back to her waist. She seemed consciously waiting now, her eyes more excited though still looking down, her breath coming a little quicker though still soft. She was still under control.
Ethan wondered at the bond. It was not really visible; his mind only visualized the beam of dust as a symbol, but it seemed tense, electric, living. He was still pondering this when she brushed his hand away suddenly, smoothed her dress down it its normal position, and sat down on the grass with her legs curled demurely under her. Ethan was shocked and confused; then he heard the footsteps too, and the cop walked into the clearing.
"Oh, Jesus," thought Ethan, staring at the cop. "My goose is cooked. I'm gonna take a fall."
He had taken too much time. That's what had happened. Usually he just made a hit and was gone again, all in a moment or two. Now he had tried to savor this gift from the gods, to go slow and easy-and they had him.
The cop glared at him. There was no way out. The cop was going to ask her if Ethan was bothering her. If Ethan kept her under control she apparently couldn't speak, and the cop would ask again and she would still be silent and he'd think they were drugged and take them.
If, on the other hand, Ethan broke the connection, she'd scream bloody murder and Ethan would be in the clink forever.
He should have just used the gift from a distance, just once in a while make a pretty girl bend over and stick out her little bare fanny to him, all the while thinking she really wanted to pick up something off the ground. He could have just sometimes made little girls do a little head-over-heels roll in the grass, just once. Little girls are exuberant. They'd never have guessed it wasn't their own wish to do a somersault-with an old man walking by so far away.
But now the jig was up. Good-bye to this carefree life. Good-bye to Lynn Soo. Good-bye to his good old grimy street and his fine old miserable apartment.
At least it had been a pleasant way to go. He thought once again of this pretty girl sliding her dress up just for him and he sighed.
"This man bothering you, miss?" asked the strong, young cop.
3
SHE sat with downcast, quiet eyes, as she had all along, like a frozen, drugged dummy. "Good-bye, cruel world," thought Ethan with a twinge of regret. He'd decided to hold on to her for a minute or so longer, to see how the cop reacted. Maybe he'd think she was ignoring him.
But the minute she didn't answer the cop smelled a rat, his brows knit and he looked more intensely at her.
"No," she said suddenly, looking at the cop only for an instant, speaking in a soft, quick voice, "No, he's not bothering me. We're . . . friends."
Ethan's mouth dropped open. Luckily the cop was looking closely at the girl and didn't see Ethan's astonishment.
Ethan had nothing to do with it. In fact, he had just manufactured a story about how he had seen her wandering drugged and had only come, like the cop, to see if she was all right, how she must be a disguised hippie and all this rape nonsense must just be drug-crazed babbling.
Ethan stared at her in wonder. She was looking down again, as quiet as ever, as if she hadn't spoken at all. For a moment, with the cop still silent, he thought it was a dream, that perhaps she hadn't spoken at all.
But then the cop shrugged and said, "Suit yourself. But watch out for this park after dark. You get a lot of perverts here. You could get into trouble."
And he left. As simply as that, without another look at Ethan, the cop pushed out of the bushes and disappeared. Ethan watched him go with his mouth still open, and it was not until the glen has been silent several minutes that he could get himself to turn back to her, although through their connection he had been facing her, all along.
"I don't understand," he said, but it was as if she'd never spoken. "You can talk! You can hear me! You can yell for help! I don't understand!"
She winced and turned her head away from him. At least she must be hearing him. It was more reaction than he'd gotten before.
"You're a nice girl," he said, a little softer now. "You're a nice, pretty girl. Why didn't you turn me in? You felt sorry for me?"
She nodded "no" with a brief, quick shake of her head, still not looking at him.
"But why?"
He came around and sat down right in front of her. She couldn't look away any more, so she looked down at the ground with a fixed stare, giving a little "no" shake with her head for good measure.
He did, for him, an unnatural thing then. He reached out and took her hand in both of his, like a friend when he is concerned about another friend.
But when he touched her hand, he thought he saw sparks fly across that invisible beam in a burst larger than usual, and he wondered. She had the look of a young girl trying to ignore the stares of a boy and yet excited by them. He was onto something and he couldn't quite place it.
Then he glanced down at her legs for a minute, tucked under her, and thought again of her kneeling before him unveiling herself. She pulled in her breath a little hard. He looked at her. She still wouldn't look at him.
"What is it?" he asked. She only shook her head.
Very carefully he lay his old hand on her leg, just above her knee where it disappeared into her dress. The lights did flash that time.
"What is it?" he asked, getting a flushed shake of the head.
Slowly, he pulled her dress up a little. It moved slightly up her thighs and caught from where it was tucked under her. He commanded her to rise and she didn't.
He was faced with an impasse. Even an hour ago he would have fled at her refusal. But now he was on to something and he wouldn't go. He had held on this far, he would keep going.
He knelt down beside her, caught a hand under her arms and took some of her weight on his hip and cautiously, waiting for her protest, he lifted her just enough for his other hand to catch the hem of her dress and pull it up the back of her thighs and up over her pantied bottom. He accidentally brushed the silken cheeks as he lifted and, for the first time, she gasped slightly, but she didn't try to stop him. He put her back down, then, sat down in front of her again.
He began lifting her dress and now her breathing was harder, louder. Still she wouldn't speak, wouldn't look at him. She made a soft little noise as his hand moved up her thigh and stopped an inch from that taut blue mound that seemed to be bulging down at him, wanting to be touched.
"What is it?" he asked again.
With a little groan she whispered, "I can't tell you."
Leaving one hand on her thigh, he pulled the knit dress up over her panties, up her belly and up over her full white bra. She breathed faster and she looked like she was going to cry. But holding her dress up with one hand, he brought the other hand slowly up to meet it.
First he crossed just the very edge of her nylon-covered pubis and she gave a little cry as his hand slipped across the tiny bikini, she tried to recover herself as his hand moved up across her tummy but she couldn't and she was panting now, her face flushed.
He paused a moment beneath her heaving bra and then slipped his hand under it, forcing his way up to the tip, her breasts filling his hand, her panting changing to sighing.
"I can't.. . ohh," she whispered as he found the first nipple, grown hard and erect waiting for his hand.
"Ohh . . . " she whispered between breaths. "Please don't make me say it.. . . Mmmmm-ohh! . . . " His fingers found her other throbbing nipple, palm squeezing and pressing this bare new breast. "Oh!" she whispered softly, and hid her face in his shoulder.
With a pull her bra squeezed up and set her aching breasts free to heave and point in the warm evening breeze. She gasped gratefully, sighing when he handled them again like pliable pears.
But then he started down her bare chest and she gave a whispered, instinctive "No!" that changed, as he touched her navel, to "Noooo.. . . " and as he toyed with the low elastic boundary of her last frontier, beneath her gasps it turned to "Ohhh! . . . " and a musky, female odor drifted up to him.
The elastic gave easily and willingly, slipping on her smooth flesh. She whimpered softly, but against her will her body began to raise her up on her knees again, breasts pushing out of their own excited tension this time, hips thrusting further forward as her panties spread and slipped. Ethan ran a finger down the crack of her buttocks to force the tiny garment over her shapely bottom and she groaned "Ohhh! . . . " and then "Ah!" at the first touch of her secret red fur. "Oh! I feel.. . ah!" And the blue panties revealed the red mound in the red evening light, female scent bursting forth as the elastic passed down her thighs and clung there. He touched the soft slit, moisture gleaming slightly on the hair around the edges, and she rocked back and forth slightly, panting and sighing, "Yes . . . yes . . . I'll tell you everything."
He pulled her face off his shoulder. Her demure face was now red and flushed, her lips open, her eyes flying through cycles of melting and flashing. Ethan's fingers were wet and sticky where he held her cunt.
"I could have cried for help," she whispered fast, "but you make me feel so . . . oh! Ohhh so horny and so beautiful and so calm and so unafraid; from the minute you stopped me on the street I knew it! I felt so good, everything vibrating, not just my.. . pussy but everywhere my fingers, my nose, my ears, and in my head. It felt so good and friendly and I knew what you were going to do and I wanted it! . . . Uhhhh!"
And Ethan sank his fingers into her gently-rocking red triangle of fur, up into the base of her, where she fit him like a warm, wet, velvet glove. "Ooohhh!" Up her pulsing, vital slit. "Oohhh! It's everywhere!" Wiggling her twitching butt, her arms thrown around him, he finds a hard little button in the front of her cunt and strokes it like a fragile piece of glass and she jerks up straight as a rod.
"Houhneey . . . ahh, uhh! . . . " she whispers, deep and throaty now. "My pussy! My mind! Oh!"
She spreads her legs a little, than wider, squatting down on his hand, and as she spreads herself, her small panties are forced back up under her bottom and against her pulsating cunt, gently pressing Ethan's hand deeper into her.
Little beads of sweat appear on her face and down her straining tummy as she wriggles on his maddening hand. " . . . Oooh! Honey! Oh! Yes! Please! Please! Ah! . v. Ah! . . . What are you doing to me? You're not letting me . . . come! It's building up! I can't stand it! Uhh!"
It was true. He could hold her right on the brink, keeping her dangling from inside her mind. But he was being affected too. For the second time in one day, he was hard, and for an old man that was some trick. And she saw it, too.
"Yes!" she groaned, "Yes!" she begged, "Fuck me! Finish me! Oh please! Please! The pill! It's all right! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
She fell back clawing at the little nylon panties that were now chains to her, desperately shoving them over her black suede boots as Ethan let his rampant cock out. She sank onto her back, hands pulling the clips from her long red hair, fingers lost in the tangles, moaning, "Ohhh, please! I'm losing my mind!"
Her breasts pushed up at him as he knelt between her long legs, greasing his cock with the juice on his hand as she lay all open to him, frozen on the brink of orgasm, legs apart, knees up, bottom lifted just off the grass, mouth wet and desperate, red triangle slicked down around her slightly-open cunt, both mouth and cunt seeming frozen in the same meek, surprised "oh". And he pushed his cock down into her hot, wet, cushioned cunt and she sobbed and arched her back, skewered.
"Oh, g-g-gaaaauhd!" she moaned, shoving her pelvis up, feeling his long old cock sink into her vitals, "Ohh! Oh no! I'm falling! I'm coming! Oh! Ohhh! Darling, thank you! I love you! Ooohhh! Ah! Ah! AH! AH! AHH! AHHHhhhhahh . . . ! "
Up between her frozen legs, her beautiful young body shoved up to him by her frozen legs, he felt her shuddering, the lips of her cunt shuddering, her eyes turning up, lips of her mouth pressed up from her teeth and slowly closing into a whispered "Ohhh", she was a vision of relief only for a second; then she felt it again, her mouth opening in a gasp, her eyes wide, her knees lifting above her parted legs against her will.
"Honey, no! Not again! Oh! Ah! Ahhh . . . ! Oh, it's even better this time, ahh! Ah! I can't help myself! Ohh! Oh!"
She threw her arms around him and wrapped her I legs up his back as she gave him everything and moaned I and gasped, taken spinning down the highways of her J jangling nerves and rippling muscles, "Ah! ah!" Flying and falling, shoving her soft slit up to him faster, "Ah! Not again! Oh, I love it! ah! Ah!" Now he was with her, controlling her and being controlled by her, no longer a I beam of dust but a single endless flash of lightning climbing to her deep, desperate moans, "Oh honey! Ah! Ah! Ah!" and he was swept away, tearing her with him, her fresh young legs kicking up around his hairy old ass, her nipples so hard he felt them through his jacket, her shapely arms clasped desperately around his old jacket, her soft, fresh cunt electrified, spread open and pouring her juices over his stiff old piece of meat, her tight, proud buttocks wiggling faster and faster and at last shoving her helpless treasure up in taut, frozen ecstasy, from deep within her, "Ah! Ah! AHH! AHHhhhhh!! ! GOD!! AH! AHhhh! Ahhh!" And she collapsed back on the grass, exhausted.
Ethan lay in her for a long, sweet time, feeling her nipples go soft and listening to her pant. Then, a little shakily, he slipped his limp member from her cunt and got up to his knees to look at her. She was too spent to complain.
She lay with a beautiful smile of complete satisfaction on her face. Her sensitive lips were still pursed sensuously on one long, silent ooooh of relief and completion. She lay still, shamelessly spread-eagled, a graphic design for wanton submission, a sweating, panting statement that she had been conquered, mastered, and made to surrender unconditionally.
Her fresh, tight cunt, showered and puffed with baby powder that morning, just one puff as she stood by the shower making her final decision to wear her black knit dress, her cunt she took for granted this morning as she pulled her baby-blue panties tight against that latent mound of fire, still thinking about the black knit and about minor irritations in her life, just a flash glance in the mirror, out of the corner of her eye, really, of how cute her little panties were as she reached for the dress. Now the dress was crushed like a towel up above her bare, aching breasts and the cute panties lay in a little crumple by her boots, now she lay with her pretty powered legs spread wide and her sweet, secret, soft little pussy dripped with a stranger's sperm, and yet she felt no guilt only relief.
Two other pricks had pushed through her red down triangle to plumb her and make her groan, sometimes in pleasure, sometimes in pain, always in the dark, she always tense. Now it was almost dark and she lay and felt the rivers of blood flow through her and the rivers of thoughts flow in and out of her.
"Please don't go yet," she said to the funny old man who she thought of as a friend, so strangely spent and calm she was.
He smiled a crooked smile and came to sit where she could more easily look up at him. She sensed a flicker of worry in him and whispered, "Don't worry. I know you'll go soon. Because when you go, all this will fade away like a dream."
The smile faded and he stared at her disbelievingly.
"I felt it when you pulled out," she said, "For a moment you almost broke the bond between us, and I felt my memory flicker.
"So if you can, I don't even think I can stand up yet. Please let me lie here in this feeling you've given me.
Otherwise, let me get my clothes on before you turn me loose, or the shock could hurt me."
He couldn't seem to talk, he just sat beside her, guarding her, running his awkward fingers through her hair.
She told him about sharing an apartment with two other girls, the arrangements, the pressure, the girl who made it with her boy friend at night in the same room with the other two, about feeling sad, about obscene people and dirty smirks and loneliness in the city. She talked about feeling trapped as a secretary in a whole office of secretaries with an old biddy watching over them like a hawk if they even talked.
And in a half-hour she reached up her arms and he helped her up. She brushed off her dress and smoothed it out and blushingly slipped on her panties hardly bigger than a cigarette box without her curves to stretch it out carefully over her boots, wriggling into them with the same twitch of her bottom that had just shoved her cunt up as deep along his prick as she could get it. And she adjusted her bra, pinned her hair back up, brushed off her shoulder bag.
They walked together to the gate of the park. She kissed on the cheek quickly but fairly passionately, and left him standing by the park entrance.
She walked about fifty feet and then stopped. She blinked and shook her head and looked around. She was standing by the park on her way home. There was an old man standing like a figure in a French movie, still and portrait-ish, and she wondered for a second how it got to be so late, then she shrugged and continued to walk home, feeling very cheery and hopeful on this warm summer night, thinking perhaps she'd live after all.
4
THE next few hours were a strange, ecstatic fog for Ethan Bowles, almost like a religious revelation. For a time that night, after the girl had disappeared into the city, Ethan felt exhilarated, felt a burst of his old evil self.
"Heh! Heh! Heh!" he thought. "Tonight it's Jessie James for me, robbing all the men and raping all the women!" and he set off at a brisk pace to the bright-light districts to pick out the very best.
But when he got there, he found several problems confronting him, all within himself. First and foremost, the pretty redhead wasn't the only one who had been well satisfied with their tryst. Ethan too, once he got to where the girls were, found he wasn't studying them too hard. He was going to have to be careful to draw a definite line that would give unlimited voyeuring but fairly limited involvement. He might be a dirty old man, but he was still an old man and men have been known to die of overwork.
The second problem was an offshoot of his good luck at starting out with a pretty girl. How brief a time ago would he have walked through this crowd, slobbering and groaning after every girl who passed.
Now this one's nose was too long, this one's ass too big, this one too short, this one too thin; he turned them down because they had too much make-up on, he turned them down because he didn't like their clothes. He turned them all down. He even turned them down because they were out with other men. He could hardly be evil at all.
Finally he ended up sitting on a dark bench out of the way and experimenting a little bit. He went trolling and brought in a short, brown-haired girl with a long nose and a big, toothy smile. She stopped as the people flowed around her, and then walked normally over toward him as though it had just occurred to her to come and sit down. She sat down beside him.
Even though there was very little he could do with her with the crowd only a few paces away, he still began to shake with excitement as she came over, mental bond flickering in the air before her, the correct thought and feeling concrete now in Ethan's mind.
He inconspicuously reached out and touched her hand, bracing for the flow of thoughts as the lock gates opened and the mental water levels rushed together. It wasn't as wrenching for him as it had been the first time. And now they could talk.
"Tell me what I want to know about you," he thought briskly and businesslike.
She answered with an out-of-town accent, "I'm alone, I'm going to meet a girl friend at the theatre around the corner. I can stay five or ten minutes before she worries."
"Good! Good!" said Ethan. "I won't keep you any longer than that. I just want you to tell me what you feel."
"Right now," she said, "I feel itchy all over. Excited a little bit. Like what I feel the first second I wake up from a sexy dream, but it's not going away."
"Good!" chuckled Ethan. "And now?" and he began to think small thoughts, touches and tests.
"My toes," she would say or, "My breasts, it feels like someone is playing with my . . . breasts."
He went on for a little while, just getting familiar with what thoughts did what, and it was about time for her to go when she said, "You know, I feel everything building up inside me. Like, I don't know why I'm telling you this, but sometimes if you're not sure you want to make it with somebody but he get into your pants, sometimes if you're really in the right mood, all of a sudden you stop trying to hold him off, you sort of get past a point of no return. Well, you've got me there . . . . "
He just couldn't. He drew the line. But just as an experiment, he began to think a particular thought hard and her hand cupped her breasts and she moaned. He thought again and she looked around quickly before her eyes turned up and she sank back on the bench beside him, groaning and moving her hips. It was irresistible. Glancing around once himself, he quickly flipped her skirt up to her panties and touched her soft nylon crotch. She came with a sighing shiver.
"That felt good," she said when she opened her eyes again and smiled that big, toothy smile; then she pushed her skirt back down and walked out into the crowd, shook her head once, and got to the movie just in time to meet her friend.
Ethan brought in a suburban girl and let her go when she said she had a headache.
He brought in a homey woman with big breasts and let her go because she was looking for a bathroom.
He finally brought in a very attractive young blonde in a tight white theatre dress. But as soon as she walked over, her young husband came stomping in after her.
"Lisa!" he called, and Ethan let her go instantly. "Lisa, what are you doing?"
She blinked and looked around. "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry," she said, tired for one so young. "I must have taken a wrong turn. I was right behind you."
He seemed strained with her. "We can't keep making wrong turns, Lisa."
Ethan sat unnoticed, wondering.
"I wasn't really hungry anyhow," Jack shrugged. "Why don't we just play tourist and look at the lights and walk a bit?"
She shrugged and nodded. Her husband took her hand and suddenly she felt a little tingling like she'd never felt before, very subtle and sexy, around her navel, following just under the elastic of her panties, which she was suddenly strangely aware of.
She squeezed her husband's hand and stopped, wondering. He was concerned, thinking she was hurt, and he really did care for her more than he sometimes remembered.
"Are you all right, kitten?" he asked, worried.
"Yes," she said in a small, wondering voice. The feeling made her a little itchy between her legs and it spread up across her tummy she'd never thought of it as her tummy before and physically up under her bra, getting her small breasts warm and throbbing.
"I'm not sick or anything, Jack," she said, a little confused, "I just feel.. . sexy."
He looked a little offended for a second, just because he didn't expect that; he expected to go to a restaurant and have a light dinner after the bland show they had seen, but he liked her, he even loved her, and he smiled that she'd fell this way in this particular spot and time. And the way she said it was exciting. She'd never just come right out that plainly and easily and said it.
He looked about and saw no one near but some old ass so he put his arm around her and she snuggled against him, away from the crowd. He cupped her breasts with his hands and rubbed them softly and she kissed his neck and was happy, but it was also inflaming her. She knew he wouldn't do it but she so yearned, nearby crowd or not, just for a minute, for him to cup her vibrating cunt the way he held her breasts, just enough to ease the pressure a minute, to last her until they could hurry home. Just on the little triangle mound of her panties . . . her panties . . . her own panties were making her crazy.
It's true. Her husband would never have done such an audacious thing as with only his body shielding her from passers-by pull up his wife's skirt enough to give her a quick, stunning feel. But that's reckoning without old Ethan sitting on the dark bench, very interested in what was going on.
For Ethan had discovered something new. It wouldn't do him much good personally, but now that he had the right thoughts firmly in his mind, he could make things happen without having to put the woman completely under control. She'd remember after it was over, so he could not actually make use of it himself or traumas and policemen would result, but it was useful in other ways.
And right now he had one more thing to learn. This guy was giving his wife's tits a feel, discovering that he'd forgotten how nice they felt, but she was hotter than that right now and besides, if Ethan was going to work as a marriage counselor, he was at least going to have a gander up this babe's dress. So he looked at Jack and blinked and Jack, in the middle of rediscovering his wife's gentle breasts, started noticing a whole lot more.
He noticed the sensuous way his wife was holding her mouth and her wondrous eyes and her breasts that were exciting her, how special it was to be the man exciting his pretty wife, making her shiver and burn from her nipples down her fragile curves, under her tasteful dress, down in her panties where she was tender and aching; she saved herself for him and no one else mattered. How warm and exciting she was! . . .
They kissed passionately and he turned gently so that his body covered her from the amorphous crowd passing by and they were alone. He no longer saw Ethan, only Lisa, Lisa, and he reached down gently with her arms around his neck and her pretty face smiling up at him, and he pulled her dress up until her under things were bare. Up above her stockings, up above a very exciting stretch of bare thigh, her small butt almost like a boy's, gleaming with the bright flowered print of her panties that he had to reach down and touch, her eyes closing as his hand found its way around her waist and over her stocking strap and down and down as her eyes opened wide and then melted and her lips parted and she looked like a nymphette as his hand trembled down her front to her most private parts and she whispered, "Oh yes! Oh, darling, I love you so!" and pressed against him with relief.
Suddenly there was a movement in the comer of Ethan's eye and he turned regretfully away from her plain, flowered pants which had grown quickly damp and steamy beneath her husband's comforting hand, to see a big, scarred, ugly cop standing behind them, hands on hips, one hand holding a billy club, mouth open about to bellow, "All right! What's going on here?"
A moment later the cop was back walking away on the sidewalk grumbling to himself that tonight was so dull, but by then the young wife had been sustained and she was whispering to her husband who still cradled the heat between her slim thighs, "Darling, I think I can just last now until we get home. I didn't know you could be so impulsive!"
And he swept her into a cab while she was still tugging her dress back down over her damp, flowered panties and they were gone.
Ethan felt despicably good about it, something awful like Santa Claus, and he left his dark bench whistling. As he passed by one theatre line, he slipped a jolt of sexual thrill at all of them and watched them jump. One brash person reached down, right there in the line, and gave his girl a feel up her skirt. These modem times! She was a short girl with a big ass and she shoved him off good-naturedly.
5
THE sun comes up and a new morning blooms. Oh, hot shit! Ethan is up with such energy that he strains a weak leg muscle and limps all day. But what is a fiend without a limp! Then a grimy cup of coffee on the old gas stove and out, out into the world that is his.
He searches for only a short time in midtown before he finds what he wants. She is a sleek, tall bitch straight from the fashion slicks, with her perfect, painted face that looks more like a photograph than a person. Why start at the bottom (Heh! Heh! Heh!) when you can Start at the top?
He catches her with a thought that is almost harsh, that snaps her still on the sidewalk. You've seen her face without even having to open the magazine. She attracts attention even standing still. She is like a giant Siamese cat. He has to move her over to a doorway just to talk to her without attracting a crowd.
A quick touch to equalize and she says in a cultivated, throaty voice that she is a model and she should be at a shooting in forty-five minutes. But she adds that she's been late before. She feels his excitement as her own and quietly vibrates with it, and she prides herself on following up on spontaneous feelings they are so rare.
He takes her to the park and heads for the bushes for a long, pleasant day. She is only the beginning. He'll use them up as fast as he can bring them in, only fucking a few of the best late-afternoon and evening ones. The model feels it already, tickling her cunt, his wanting her, and she settles to the ground to get fucked as soon as they are alone, but Ethan pulls her back up again and commands her to stand and not do anything else.
Standing in the shade, in fairly full view, she feels her dress unzipping down the back and suddenly the situation is not like any brief affair with mysterious strangers and acquaintances that seem spontaneous. Suddenly it's different, out of her control.
"No!" she whispers, but her simple dress drops to the grass and she doesn't wear a bra so she's left standing in what seems like open, public space, although you would have to look very hard to find her, in only a pair of tiny yellow bikinis so skimpy that when she stooped down to lie on the grass for him, it all slipped off the slick cheeks of her ass and squeezed into her crack, leaving her bottom bare and her crotch tight between her long, thin legs.
This idea of being stripped in a public place, her small, perfect breasts seeming to sniff the light breeze as their nipples grew hard, where everyone could see and admire her rape, where everyone could see her panties coming down soon, panties already exciting her by pressing up against the deepest, tenderest part of her bottom it was all out of control, which frightened her. She didn't like being frightened and it excited her more than anything had ever excited her and it was making her pant and wiggle her bottom not easily and sensuously like when someone could not control himself (or herself) any more and had to make love to her and she had to be excited, but just because she felt the itch and ache of sex more than she could resist.
She was afraid and backed away with all her strength, fighting it, fighting it with every ounce of resistance, but with every struggle she felt forced into her mind and nerves, pulling at her nipples and tickling at her cunt, the image of herself seen through Ethan's eyes, her own beautiful self clad only in the tiniest of yellow nylon triangles that just barely clung to her perfect, fluid hips, balanced for the long fall down her exquisite legs, her perfect pear-shaped and now sexually-charged breasts heaving with fear, trapped out where she didn't want to be, and the elastic leg bands of her panties were pushing, playing with the perfect pink button of her anus, making it contract, exciting her, helpless, hopeless, beautiful, every drugged, supple move exciting her attacker, urging him on, with children playing tag in view just down the hill, exciting her, making her burn between her legs before she was even touched, more than she could ever remember being excited down there.
She had always been beautiful and in control, and now she backed against a small tree that felt like an elephant's cook skin against her long, graceful back and her bare, exciting bottom and Ethan reached up and casually caught her brown, pointing nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Her cunt shivered with delight, her cunt, her pretty little cunt, her body already giving out weak groans of ecstasy every time Ethan squeezed her nipples. With a sob she surrendered, pressing back against the tree in broad daylight; she would give in standing up in sight of children playing tag.
With her surrender her breasts were caught up in the palm of this stranger's hands and crushed back into her chest and oh, how she had been pleading silently for him to do that. Her cunt was on fire as her breasts were left wounded and groaning, and the hand, just one finger, moved slowly, wanderingly, down her chest and her flat perfect stomach. It went so slow, slipped down so slowly, hours and days it crept, back and forth, setting her on fire and she would give anything, anything, to have that finger up her burning cunt. She didn't even have her panties down yet.
She couldn't help herself. She gasped with astonishment and moaned with anticipation at every slow inch towards the patch of yellow she saw for a moment between breasts that seemed for the first time cones instead of pears, and then she had to throw her head back and gasp for breath and whimper as Ethan brushed her much-photographed navel and traveled down and down, to panties so small their elastic tops bulged slightly on the beginning of her mons, shaved down just that far to model tiny things.
She had surrendered, she was just going to let him rape her, but the hand took so long traveling down an excruciatingly tender valley between her tummy and her hip that, against her will, her hips pushed the little yellow bikini up towards him, silently begging.
She kept getting, wilder and wilder without ever nearing the brink and it was taking everything from her. For the first time her pleading body alone wasn't enough and she had to beg.
"Please!" she whispered, and it wasn't a faraway person whispering, it was she, consciously begging, "Please, pull down my panties! Oh please! Please!"
But instead of releasing her, he dropped down to one knee and looked up between her legs and forced the vision of what he saw into her head. It was a beautiful aspect of herself she'd always taken for granted but never really seen. But she saw it now with a horny old man's eyes and it made her blood run hot and she blushed all over and that made her all the more beautiful.
There were her slim thighs from a sexy angle and they were spread slightly open, like arms spread slightly, held out, pleading. Between her thighs, like a soft hand holding her cunt, were her tiny panties and she saw how full and inviting her mons showed through the soft fabric. She saw as well as felt the pear-shaped cheeks of her ass where the flimsy nylon wrinkled, back where she too must wrinkle cutely beneath her sexy panties, nylon forced into her buttocks like a lover's fingers spreading her buttocks, held vulnerable and open. She saw the shiny, silky panties as not so much protecting as advertising her charms. And in between her legs she saw yet another sign of submission she had eagerly given him, the little stain of wetness at the crotch of her undies.
She tried to close her legs to hide her damp obeisance but when her knees touched together, her slim thighs still left a little space between them where her skimpy panties told everything; you could still see where the elastic pushed and excited her and she looked even cuter and sexier, a beautiful woman in the embarrassed pose of a little girl caught in her panties, and she caught with his nostrils the smell she gave off in her sexy embarrassment and she panted hard now, out of control.
As casually and uncaring as he had made her tender nipples drive her to submission, so now he casually caught his thumbs in the elastic tops and pulled her panties down. Her pubes were perfect little pouting lips, as perfect as the rest of her, soft and inviting, accented by a silky triangle of light-brown hair.
Her panties were still caught in her butt; spreading down from her butt and out around her thighs like a translucent yellow web and she thought she saw her chubby slit pout slightly more with helpless, desperate anticipation; the sight of that almost knocked her out, she was so beautiful, and he gave another pull and the thin yellow nylon slipped languidly out of her ass and fell like a butterfly to her ankles.
Then the fiend, to complete her degradation, simply held his middle finger up between her legs, not touching her at all, and her little cunt, in wild, shameless excitement, gave down a tiny, shimmering drop of dew that hung on the now-vermilion petals like a fresh morning flower. But dizzy and hot and panting she volunteered one last degradation all her own, whispering meekly, "But I'm frigid . . . . " and then the finger shoved easily up her gooey, boiling cunt and she went off like a sky-rocket.
"UlmhlUhhhhhhhh!! "
Men had groveled at her feet for a chance to kiss her hand, they had fallen at just a glance, and it all gave her a pain. There were interesting men but she used them up quickly.
Now she was ripped out and flying, jibbering on the portals of heaven, eyes up, tits pulling up, body raging and vibrating, cunt shaking and wiggling for anyone to stop by and see, trying to spread her knees apart with her ankles lashed together by her panties, her cunt giving more and more hot lubricating juice until it dribbled from her, all wriggling and sobbing on someone's middle finger like a schoolgirl.
When she was twelve they had done that to her. The perfect bridesmaid except for a moment in an upstairs closet with the handsome best man, locked in a very grown-up embrace so exciting she didn't even notice her green dress was up to her white lace undies until a cool hand was inside the lace, pushing into the front of her tight slit to a tickler that made her gasp and wiggle on his finger.
But she was a grown, extraordinarily-beautiful woman now, body used too much, gone cold and unimportant; yet here she was wiggling on his finger not from a tickle in her clit but a roar consuming her whole body, flying like a burning rocket.
"Uh! Uh! What are you doing to me? My body! My beautiful.. . uh! Uh! Uh! Ah! AHH! AHHHHWihhh . . . ! Uhhhhhhhh . . . ! " And she came hard and shuddering, and came again and again, cunt shivering on Ethan's finger.
Ethan was hard now, hard as a rock, but he wasn't going to fuck her. Two or three a day was his absolute limit; last time he had lost a little interest after the pretty girl in the park, and this was much too good to lose interest in.
And besides, Ethan didn't like this girl enough. It's true the redhead was plain next to this beauty, this thoroughbred, beautiful body wide open and shuddering, face twisted between pain and greed, every perfect curve vibrating as hse pressed her back against the tree and bent her burning cunt up to him.
The other girl had been heavier in the legs and hips, breasts softer, body thicker, but she was sweet and he liked her and he didn't like this one as much. But this one was sexy and she had him hard when she finally came so hard she cried out, frozen in her twisted position, even the inside of her cunt frozen.
She stood like that for several seconds after he slipped his dripping finger from her slit, and then with the meekest little moan, she sank down the tree to her knees and slowly fell forward in a faint, her ankles still bound with her bright yellow panties.
Alas, she was too irresistible, even to a man who could have any woman. "I'm going to save it," thought Ethan, but when he looked down at her, lying in the grass limp and panting, her sleek hair spilling down across her shapely, supple back, her buttocks sticking up like fine china jugs, her legs so slim and fine, and the wreath of crumpled nylon that trapped her pretty feet together, it was no use, no man could turn away from her.
Ethan rolled her over, unhooked her panties, and spread-eagled her. She was a doll. He pulled out his trusty old cock and slipped it into her perfect box without even forcing her sex to burn again.
Yet if she'd been frigid before, it had been shaken loose in her violent orgasms and she hadn't remembered it yet because, after a moan of surprise as she entered her sopping and seemingly spent box, the clouds seemed to lift from her eyes and she smiled a very sly, expectant smile that soon changed to a sneer of passion as the clouds swept across her deep-blue eyes again; and she came one last time, a gentle shiver of an orgasm, but completely on her own. In a moment Ethan shot his bolt deep into her and she sighed and clasped him in her arms.
Later she sat curled up naked on the grass with him, she liked being naked, and she chattered enthusiastically about fashions and parties, feeling loose and free, and for some reason Ethan wasted most of the morning letting her go on and get it out of her system. She wasn't loving, hardly even likable, and yet she had a certain, hard-headed style of her own that had gotten her battered psyche through hard times.
So he sat and listened to who she was more beautiful than, and was almost sorry to see her go, fine ass going swish swish under her light summer shift. She stopped at the park gate, shook her head, looked at her watch, and walked off casually to her appointment two hours late.
"He's mad about me," was the last thing she'd said to Ethan. "I could get there two days late and he wouldn't dare make a peep."
6
BUT damn, damn, double damn! Sure enough, before the model was even out of sight, Ethan started feeling mellow and creaking and not at all like raping Sabine women any more. In fact he sat up on the hill and watched any number of good-looking women go by. What a lousy situation, to feel full while you're still in the candy store.
It was terrible! Not only was he letting some fine ass pass him by as he scowled with indecision, but now a new thought entered his head, and it was one that got in the way of everything else. Ethan Bowles, dirty old man, crass user of anything he could get his grubby paws on, began to wonder if he shouldn't let someone official know about his power. Don't do it, Ethan! It'sjust a passing phase!
But wasn't there some kind of yellow peril or red threat or something that endangered his country? He sometimes saw people demonstrating things going on. What ever happened to the Germans?
All this was leading to one question: Should he let his country know what he could do for it? He had a Secret Weapon. He could make the enemy's women tear off their clothes and drag their soldiers home to bed. He, Ethan Bowles, was himself a Secret Weapon.
"Ethan Bowles, Secret Agent," he mumbled in his cracky old voice, just trying it on for size.
"Bowles, we're going to have to keep you in a secret, luxurious hideout with air conditioning and a bar and real paintings on the walls, and just to make sure you're happy we'll bring you a different beautiful woman every day.. . . " Ethan thought a moment, "Three beautiful women every day, and when you get time this afternoon, the President and the Chief-of-Staff would like to have lunch with you. You know! You've got the common sense of the common people, Bowles, and we're lucky you showed up. They just want to ask your opinion about a few things that keep this old country rolling."
Ethan chewed his lip and nodded his approval. Air conditioning and three beautiful women. Maybe he should be patriotic. A man has but one life to give to his country, and he guessed he owed this old land a lot. A man just couldn't do enough for his country.
But now that Ethan, spent and momentarily satisfied, had decided to make the big plunge and become a secret national hero, he didn't quite know how to go about it. All secrets had to do with the Army, but how does one go about finding the Army?
Ethan set out from the park, walking and thinking, searching for the Army. It didn't seem to be anywhere around.
The strip joints weren't open yet, so he couldn't find it there like they did in the movies. It didn't leave signs around, especially the secret Army agents; it wouldn't be secret if they started advertising, so it was damn hard to find. Pretty soon he gave up on starting with the CIA, but he wasn't having much luck starting anywhere.
Suddenly he looked up and there, right by the curb, was one of those big Army trucks with all the big tires and the ugly front and covered back, just like in every war movie. "National Guard Armory" said a sign. All right, so he'd found the Army headquarters. That was pretty good for a beginner. He was going to do all right as a secret spy.
He figured he'd go in and let them know a little bit, not too much because that was probably classified, but just enough for them to rush him past everybody else to see the big men, giving him little glances of awe as they escorted him through.
Yes sir, it was going to be all right. He swaggered into the building, only to be stopped by some smart kid right inside the door.
"May I help you?" asked the soldier. At least this was the right place, but it sounded more like a department store clerk than the beginning of heroism.
"Yeah," said Ethan, "I want to see the guy in charge."
"You wish to see Colonel Brace?" the young sprat asked condescendingly.
Ethan thought fiendishly, "I'll be fucking your girl friend before the day is over, sprat," but out loud he only mumbled, "Brace, yeah, that's who I want to see."
"I'm very sorry," said this snot nose. "Colonel Brace is gone for the week."
"Well who can I see?" demanded Ethan.
"I don't know," said the boy efficiency expert in green. "What is it you want to see someone about!"
"Agggh!" yelled Ethan and thought one simple, sharp, controlling thought. The boy-wonder shipping clerk behind the desk shut up and sat up in his chair.
"You're under my power," said Ethan.
"I'm under your power," said the soldier.
"Who's in charge here?" demanded Ethan.
"Major Noskowitz," said the soldier.
"I want to talk to him," said Ethan.
"Room 203, up the stairs, second door on the right," said the soldier, who shook his head, looked at his watch, and went back to his desk work as soon as Ethan was on the stairs.
"Yeah?" bellowed the Major to Ethan's knock. Ethan went in and was pleased to find a big, rough, red-faced man who looked like a real soldier.
"How do you do," said Ethan. "Ethan Bowles is the name.
"Yeah, Bowles?" said Major Noskowitz. "What'ja want?"
"I have something the Army might be very interested in," said Ethan smoothly, getting into the secret agent style.
"Well this ain't the Army," said the Major, "this is the fucking National Guard."
"But I couldn't find the Army," whined Ethan. "This is the best I could do. You'll have to get on the phone and ring up Washington, have them send up a helicopter, get hold of the top brass. I have something vital to national security." That sounded official enough.
"We got too damn many helicopters as it is and nowhere to put them," Noskowitz growled at him. "What exactly is it you want?"
"I can't tell you," said Ethan. "It's a secret."
Major Noskowitz jumped up from behind his desk and roared, "You tell me!"
"It's a secret weapon," said Ethan quickly, his ears ringing.
Major Noskowitz sat back down, his fat lips stuck out in understanding. He nodded now that everything was under control again and he understood the situation.
"Not our business," he said with brash efficiency, born of isolating the problem. "Take it to the police. If they can't handle it, they'll call us in, but all weapons got to go through them first. It's down the street three blocks."
It made a horrible amount of sense. Ethan didn't even try to make Major Noskowitz pass him on without going through the police. It made so much sense it would catch up to him eventually. Best to start at the beginning and work up.
Ethan was a little disillusioned, but he prided himself on being a man of boundless illusions so he had a cushion to fall back on. He trudged back outside and down to the police station.
"Yeah?" said the desk sergeant. Ethan wasn't sure Major Noskowitz hadn't raced down the other side of the block and in the back door of the station just in time to pull on a blue coat and sit behind the desk as Ethan walked in.
"I'd . . . uh . . . my name is Ethan Bowles and I'd like to talk to someone in charge."
"In charge of what?" asked the sergeant.
"Well, uh, you see, it's very complicated. You see, my name is Ethan Bowles and I've made this discovery that is vital to the national interest."
"Uh huh," said the desk sergeant.
"Major Noskowitz at the National Guard headquarters said I should come down here.. . . "
Another cop came over and was resting on the desk.
"Noskowitz, eh?" said the other cop. "Well, all right, Berger's good at getting things out of nuts."
"Officer Berger," the desk sergeant said to Ethan, "Room 226."
Ethan trudged up the crowded stairway, beginning to feel itchy again, beginning to consider giving up his dramatic and exciting career as a secret agent in favor of going to the park and getting a few young girls to spread their legs for him.
Twice he went down the wrong hallway. The place had been rebuilt and repartitioned several times and it was like a rat's maze. He finally found 226 isolated off in a corner next to room 241. Well, he'd come this far, so he knocked on the door.
"Come in," said an authoritative but not harsh voice, and Ethan's hopes rose a little. He went in and there was Officer Berger, sitting expectantly behind her desk. She was no model, but at least he didn't mind looking at her. She had a young, round face with black hair and eyes and a man's lips, and the rest of her was camouflaged in her thick uniform. But most important, Ethan had the feeling she might listen to him, that the country might be saved after all from whoever it was that was attacking it.
"Officer Berger," he said, "I'm so glad to see you."
"Please sit down," she said efficiently, pulling a fresh piece of paper in front of her. "What is your name?"
Ethan spelled his name for her and then said, "I want to get through to the CIA. I've found out.. . "
"Where do you live, Mr. Bowles?" she asked efficiently, even getting his apartment number and which way it faced. She noted down that he was an American citizen, what his age was, that he lived on a pension from the post office (former government worker was the note she put in the margin) and then, very carefully, "Now, Mr. Bowles, you say you want to get in touch with the CIA?"
"Now we're getting somewhere!" exclaimed Ethan. "Officer Berger, you're an efficient woman and you cut right to the heart of things."
Without altering the expression of her face she noted down that this retired post office worker had a secret for the CIA. Stranger things happened when you were a policewoman.
"Could you tell me exactly what you want with the CIA?" she asked him, pen poised.
"No, I'm sorry, I can't," he said. "It's classified. It's a secret!"
She nodded understandingly. "I see," she said. "But could you give me some idea of the nature of your information without divulging vital secrets? For example, does this information deal with some sort of espionage you've discovered?"
"No! Not at all!"
"Well," she said, "perhaps it's a piece of information about a person in which the CIA might be interested?".
"No," he said. "No, not at all. Listen. You seem very efficient, like you could get through to the right people. I've got to trust somebody, so maybe I'd better go ahead and tell you."
"I think that might help, Mr. Bowles."
"All right," he said, actually glad to be telling someone at last. "All right. It's a weapon. I've discovered a secret weapon."
She nodded and made a note, stopping in the middle to look up and say, "Where exactly did you find this weapon?"
The phone rang and she picked it up, waving Ethan to wait a minute. She listened into the phone, answering with, "Yes, he's here now.. . . I'm not sure yet. We're still talking. Right, thanks, I'll get back to you." Then back to Ethan when she hung up, "Now, where?"
"Sitting in my window yesterday evening . . . "
"This is a window at the above address?"
"Yes, it is. Yes. And I . . . "
"And," she said, "you believe someone somehow set this weapon on your windowsill? Mr. Bowles, I believe you said you lived on the second floor."
"No! No!" he said, seeing his secret-agent work slipping away. "No one left it. I discovered it. I.. . discovered it all by myself. I was sitting in my window and I was lonely and I saw this woman. I thought to myself I'd like her to stop, and she stopped!"
Officer Berger put down her pencil and looked at him. "Is it possible," she asked, "that this woman just stopped of her own accord?"
"That's what I thought at first," he told her, "because I couldn't get it to work again, but then I got it to work! I worked it a couple of times, last night and today. I really got it to work. It's like a dream come true! This is a real humanitarian gesture of me to give it to the government and all. I could have quite a lot of fun with it on my own and not cut anybody else in at all."
"A lot of fun, Mr. Bowles?"
"Yeah, you see . . . well, this is hard to tell to a lady . . . "
"I am a police officer, Mr. Bowles."
"Well, you see, I can get women to stop and then, well, to do whatever I think in my mind. But see, that's the weapon, see? I just think at all those Russians and their women, well, keep them so busy, heh, heh, heh! So busy they won't have time to attack us any more."
"I see," she said, dismissing him with an unseen grimace.
"Or whoever is attacking us," he added, seeing he was losing her. "Officer Berger, it sure works in Central Park, I don't see why it shouldn't work in Russia."
She stopped, no longer dismissing him, trying to remember something.
"Central Park, Mr. Bowles?" she asked coolly.
"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically, thinking she was back with him again. "That's where I got it to work."
She nodded, flipping through some typed sheets on the table beside her. She kept her desk absolutely clean, but she tended to let things stack up on the tables beside her. She pulled out one sheet and glanced at it, asking, "Mr. Bowles, were you in Central Park yesterday morning about ten-thirty or eleven in the morning?"
"Naw, I didn't discover my weapon until last night some time." Then he scratched his head. "Hey, yeah, now that you mention it, I did stop by in the morning, but I didn't even know then I had the thing, not until maybe five or six or so."
"Mr. Bowles," she said, looking him straight in the eyes, "a man answering your description was seen by several people making lewd advances at a woman and later running through the park exposing himself. I'm afraid you're going to have to answer some questions." And she reached for the phone.
"But my weapon!" he cried. "I just came to help! That other stuff was nothing!"
But her hand went right on towards the phone and picked it up. Ethan was desperate, wrinkles showing all over his pleading face, and then he had one sharp thought. Suddenly she froze, her hand halfway to the dial.
She silently put the phone back down. But she was a strong-willed, strong-muscled girl and before he could think of what to do, she turned around and faced him, saying in a quiet hiss, "So you're some kind of pervert, eh? Well I won't let you get away with it."
As if in slow motion she got up and headed for the door. Ethan thought harder but she just grimaced and kept right on going. He was desperate. He caught her by the arm and stopped her. Normally she could have overpowered him with one hand, but she was already standing up to a superhuman strain, and she couldn't do that and stand up to him too.
But she was persistent as a tank. He'd pull and shove her back across the cubicle to her desk, whispering, "Officer Berger, please listen, I'm not going to hurt you, but I won't get put in jail for trying to do a good deed, please, this is silly, let's talk about this!"
"You pervert!" she spat. "You Communist queer! We're gonna lock you up for good! You Commie dupes never have any real guts. I'll beat you because I'll just keep coming back until you drop!"
And she went for the door again. It was true. He could easily overpower her now and shove her back, but when he had to keep doing this easy thing over and over, it added up, and pretty soon the easy thing was going to be very hard.
He thought harder against her. He didn't understand it. He was thinking fire into her full-force and she didn't seem to be even feeling it. She wasn't human. She was really going to beat him. He was getting tired already and she'd walk right through the gates of hell to get out that door and have him arrested.
In desperation, to get a minute to rest and figure a way out of this, he pushed with all his might, shoving her face-down onto her desk and holding her down with his weight instead of wasting energy pushing.
But still she struggled, whispering, "You haven't got a chance, pervert. We're gonna put you up for good! I'll keep going till you drop!" and she struggled even there, and he struggled to keep her there. Somehow in those struggles she almost got away and he grabbed for the nearest part of her and his hand slipped under her skirt and touched slick nylon; just for a second, she froze, and Ethan saw he was going about this all wrong.
"You dirty son-of-a-bitch!" she hissed, "I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you!" She struggled harder now, but Ethan shoved her onto the desk again and he yanked up hard on the hem of the thick blue skirt of her uniform; with a crackle like canvas it came up to her waist and he was amazed. All her police exercising had given her a tight, exciting figure that didn't show through the uniform, bulging up against white, straining nylon panties.
"You son-of-a-bitch! You filthy bastard!" she hissed and fought so strongly she almost broke free. "You filthy pervert! I'm going to break every bone in your filthy body!"
He shoved her down and caught hold of her panties and yanked, getting them down a few inches. They were hard to move under her garters. She fought like a drugged demon and she almost knocked him down, but on the next yank her muscled buttocks began to show.
She cursed, "God damn you, you filthy son-of-a-bitch. I'll kill you, you pervert, you filthy pervert! . . . "
Then he yanked hard once more and her tight undies stretched almost to bursting to get over the firm-fleshed moons of her bottom and she whispered, "No, not my panties!" He jammed his hand down under the crumpled nylon and around under her slippery buttocks and between her legs until his fingers sank deep into thick, wiry pubic hair, digging and rutting as she struggled, spastic and desperate now, whispering, "No! No! Please! Not there!"
Then he found it, buried deep in her thick mat, an indentation that he spread to a crack; slamming her with his thoughts, he forced a finger into her slit as she whispered, "No! Please. . . . Ahhh! My pussy!" He sank into her, deeper. She was dry and tight but he kept pushing deeper until suddenly he touched hot wetness deep up her cunt.
He backed his finger out again to lubricate the channel with her hidden juice, she tense and unmoving, then he rammed all the way into her as far as he could reach. This time the way was soft and hot and jammy and she groaned a long, deep "UHHhhhh!" face pressed against the cool desk top, round bottom shoving helplessly up from her tensed back. She shuddered in ecstasy, all the repressed fire pouring through her, orgasm shaking her from head to toe, and she whimpered, "I surrender," and then lay still.
He pulled his hand out as she gave a last, limp shiver, working fast before she recovered herself. His hand exuded the darkest, deepest female odor possible and her bottom was so round and pretty, but he rolled her over onto her back and shoved her skirt and slip up to her navel. His eyes were riveted to the bulge of white nylon between her limp thighs. In the struggle her panties had been pulled down to her pubis in front and the top half of her black hairy triangle showed, well as unruly hairs poking out the leg bands of her silky, crumpled fortress.
With great pleasure he unhooked her garters and stretched the crumpled panties down her hips and thighs, leaving them dangling from one slim, limp ankle and chunky police shoe. Working against time, he stripped off her police jacket, undid her tie, unbuttoned and pulled off her white blouse, and pulled her slip roughly from her shoulders and down to her skirt, revealing a fine, full bosom trying to flow over the top of an imprisoning harsh white brassiere.
"Wait!" she mumbled. "What are you doing?"
He was unhooking her bra from her lush chest and pulling the straps off her arms. Her breasts were big but the muscles held her high and firm with big brown nipples. He kissed first one and then the other, squeezing them like thick, firm dough.
She sighed, then catching hold one last time, gasped and shoved him off, trying to pull her rough blue jacket back on. Ethan gave her a push back down onto her back and calmly lowered his lips to her vast black veldt, working his face playfully down through the thick hairs to her tender, waiting slit and she moaned, "Noo.. . . Ahhh! I give up. I'll do anything. No! No! AH! Ahhhhh! Oh yesssss! . . . " He spread her nether lips and nibbled her stiff clitoris and she helplessly raised her knees and spread them wide, laying her legs over his shoulders and down his back.
"Ohh!" she whispered, passionate now, "I didn't think you'd get me! Ohhhhhh! I'm hot again!"
He slid his hands up her belly to her big, throbbing peaks, climbing them to the tips, torturing them, sliding and skiing on them. Her bare body was all muscles and every pretty muscle was vibrating like a chime as she lay spread-eagled on her back, people stomping by in the hall, her whole body moving, her hips moving in a slow, tense lifting and lowering, lifting and lowering.
"Fuck me," she begged, and he would have because, for some reason, her strength attracted him, but in answer to a question his mind forced her to answer, she whispered, "No, I don't take pills but I don't care! You can give me a baby! You can do anything! Ohhh! I love you! Please fuck me! Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" But he didn't.
"Just a physical weakness," he grumblingly assured himself. "Wouldn't have kept it up. Don't know why I even asked her but it doesn't make any difference to me. Fiends like me would fuck her to triplets if we happened to feel like it."
But gently, almost.. . lovingly, he slipped one, two, and then three fingers into the raging cunt that had been so tight and dry, and she rose up desperately to meet them as he still bit and sucked her nut-hard tickler and she sobbed, "Thank you! Oh, thank you.. . . Uh! Uh!
UHHHHhh!" She whispered incoherent gibberish faster and faster, her crotch wiggling suddenly hard and then freezing, shoved up high in ecstatic spending, coming long and hard, and then she lay back slowly, limp and naked, on her desk.
When at last she opened her eyes, she said to Ethan, "I think I was knocked out for a little while. So you really do have a secret weapon. My advice is keep it to yourself. The government would never do right by it. They'd get it all tangled up in red tape."
He nodded sagely.
"I begged you to . . . do me," she said softly. "If you had, I'd have been mad with worry soon. As it is, I just feel weak and sexy. You're a kind man."
Ethan blustered and told her to put her clothes on, muttering, "I'll do you any time I want."
"It's a date," she said easily, infuriating him. "You're a funny old man," she smiled sadly, getting him even madder.
"Don't you know when you've been raped?" he demanded.
"Yes, I sure do," she answered, buttoning up her jacket and smoothing her skirt. It was just too much for Ethan and he stomped out.
A moment later she shook her head, wondered at how sexy she felt, and then, unbeknownst to Ethan, looked at her notes and, not remembering the outcome, decided to pass them on through channels. She felt very fuzzy and good today.
Ethan felt just terrible today. He stomped up the stairs to his apartment still grumpy and irritable. Imagine the nerve of that woman, still groggy and sweat-dampened from being screwed against her will by an old sex pervert, inferring he was a sweet old man. There wasn't an old sex pervert anywhere who would stand for that kind of insult.
"Oh Eeethan!" called a familiar voice over the thumpering of pretty feet on the stairs above.
"Oh no," groaned Ethan, "that's just what I need!"
"Hello, Eeethan!"
"Hello, Lynn Soo."
She bounded down to him. "I came looking for you last night, but you weren't there! And I wanted to see you!" This last was a bit accusatory.
"I was.. . out," was all he would say.
"I got all new clothes, Ethan. I was a bad girl to do it, but I'm a bad girl sometimes, yes? And I want you to see what I got. But alas, you have been away all day today too and I allowed myself to make a date tonight. Tomorrow I have a date with you, Ethan. I'll make you a good dinner. That's a date. Right? Right!"
"Now look here," said Ethan. "I'm very busy."
"I know!" she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek. "You'll tell me everything!" and she turned and ran back up the stairs. She was such a pert, fresh thing, she bounded up the stairs like a squirrel.
Suddenly she froze in mid-flight, pretty body caught with one leg stretched down and the other just caught two steps up, firm legs hardly showing the strain of running.
"How could I even think such a thing!" cursed Ethan, furious with himself. This was getting out of hand.
He might be a fiend, but there are limits even to fiends.
In a moment she took off again, bursting up the stairs, pausing only at the turn to sing down, "Dinner tomorrow! That's a date! Right!" and disappeared before he could protest.
7
IF YOU set out to try every woman in the world, where would you start from? If you were organized you could block off the city by voting precincts or zip code areas and work from there, maybe finishing the city in a couple of months, starting at the top and catching the last woman at the very bottom of the city, standing by the ferry slip, then sailing across the river and setting off across the country.
Or you could go by alphabet, starting with Alberlee Aaron and working through to Cynthia Zzyff, and then moving on to the next telephone district, letting Bell Telephone do your walking for you.
Of if you're a disorganized old man who has been locked out of everything and anything for so long, you just wander through the sweetshop gorging yourself without even stopping, just taking down the very best of whatever appeals to you at the moment, with no thought of getting together any plan at all.
For example, if, while walking at night, he saw a full-bodied girl with long black hair and tight, black, hip-hugging bellbottoms and a short, bright shirt tied up under her breasts to show off her big baubles and bare her slick flesh around the pooch of her tummy and the spread of her hips down into her pants, if he saw a girl like this, like those who had walked enticingly before so many times, torturing him without ever even knowing he existed and laughing him biff if he did have the audacity to answer what she was advertising so brightly, then when he met her now, he would call her fiercely into the shadows of empty trailer trucks and she would come to him, long black curls bouncing over her dark face as she was pulled towards him.
"Hello, my lovely," he cackled like an old woman. "Come into my parlor, my dumpling!"
He grabbed her with a sneering laugh and pulled her to him harshly by her tender shoulders. He shoved his hand up into her big cupped bra to find her nipples soft and pliant, feeling only like a fold in her doughy breast, but pushing out big and hard and rubbery soon and she said, "Jesus Christ, what am I doing here? Oh Jesus, that feels good," the last a little throatier and deeper and it got him excited and he kissed her mouth and she kissed him right back, and when he shoved her back against the truck, she staggered a little and mumbled, "Jesus Christ."
She was bulging out of her low-slung pants in front and her pants bulged far out behind. Ethan dropped down beside her to find the catch around on her side. The snap popped open with a loud click and he forced the zipper down her hip with shaking hands; her pants opened a little with the pressure of her stomach and he caught the loose waist with both hands and pried her pants down tight over her big ass and they fell away.
Her full body gave her torso a little-girl look when her pants were down below her knees, and the image might have held except for the tiniest, skimpiest pair of panties you could imagine. They just barely covered her mound with a miniature white cheesecloth triangle and then dissolved into two strings that clung precariously under her hips trying to keep the little triangle in place. He spun her around to see a touch of cheesecloth clinging to the peaks of her jutting bottom, half of her crack out of the elastic.
He spun her back around and she stumbled and made a soft groan as he shoved up her bra and cradled both tits in one arm that held her while the other dropped to the bulging little white mound that pulled against its strings, bulging down into his hand soft and full like a smaller woman's breast.
She moaned and kicked one leg free of her bellbottoms so she could spread her legs, rubbing her tender, burning triangle into his hand, moaning and panting now, her tits hard and her soft flesh shaking all up and down her body, then with a cry she shoved her full crotch down into his palm and froze, mumbling, "Jeeeezus Chriiiiiist! Uhhhhh! Uhhhhhh! Uhh! . . . " And her knees went limp and she fell against him.
He was about to get his pants off and shove it to her right on the sidewalk when she whispered, "Thank you! Thank you! Ohhh . . . ever since I got VD and couldn't make love, men have been getting me excited and most making me come with their fingers and it leaves me unsatisfied and I just start going after more of them and the more they get me that way, the more I just get itchier and itchier, Jesus, thanks."
She nuzzled him lovingly, standing with her pants down and her tummy and big breasts reflecting light from a neon bar sign down the street, wearing only the cutest, fullest little panties Ethan will ever see and she's got the clap. He's going to toss her aside when she turns to him eagerly, loving, and whispers, "Hey, please do it again. . . . "
She has a little girl's funny round face and long baby curls, she can't be over fifteen or sixteen, and she begs with such friendly, disarming eagerness, "Listen, I mean, it's going to be so long now again, you know?" that against his will his hand is drawn back to that big, comfortable hill between her legs, his hand much bigger than her panties, so hot and warm and full.
She groans and wiggles, changing to a long, slow fucking motion, the round globes of her ass forcing their insignificant cheesecloth covering to slide up and down, and all the time she's looking at him with such love, face clouding over with the passion and tension of her nearing climax, but love always showing through as she whispers, "Oh honey, honey! Oh thank you! I'm going to come hard this time, it's going to knock my head off, I feel it building up in my tits. . . . Ohhh! And I feel it up my ass and in my cunt.. . . Oh! Ohhh!"
And as he looked into her swooning young eyes so full of love, he found in a way he loved her too, though not so dramatically, and he pulled the elastic cheesecloth panties those tiny, agonizingly sexy little panties off her dark, curly mount, and slowly sank his fingers up through her pubic hair into her hot, wet, lonely lips and she cried, tears rolling off her cheeks, and kissed him passionately and then arched up straight, her shudders slamming her body straight, even her big breasts seeming rigid, waves of shudders hitting her again and again, her mouth grimacing with ecstasy, her eyes tight shut with tears flowing from them, and finally one terrific wave shakes her little body, slamming her straight as a soldier as she cries out, "Oh Jesus! Oh my GOD! OhHH GAAAuliddd!! " And she slumps over in a faint against him.
She was too heavy and he had to put her down, trying to keep her bare body off the street, finally kneeling and laying her across his knees. As she lay with her knees on the discarded bellbottoms, lying face down across his lap, he gently pulled her panties off her bottom which was full and high, and felt her up a little more, making her gasp and shiver a few more times as she was getting hold of herself.
At last her breathing stabilized and she pulled on her clothes, smiling a secret, inward smile of contentment. She asked him if he couldn't be talked into moving in with her for a while, but he said no, he had many more things to do and see, and she sighed and they went their separate ways, Ethan stopping off pretty soon to shake his head sadly and wash up.
But even if you were a disorganized old man, it would not be long before you began to see your power sometimes working different ways on different people. Even wandering through the sweetshop picking at random, you'd find unusual tastes.
Like the tall, brown-haired girl from the Midwest, who had her big brother's long tin-can jaw and his straw hair and his big bone structure, but her mother's soft face and shapely breasts. She talked of love as Ethan undid her baggy corduroys, talked of the need for people to meet and touch as he set her country breasts free of their restraints, fondling them like little animals, which made her smile and say how happy she was.
She had rainbow-swirled panties that squeezed her too tight so that her tummy pushed up and over the elastic, but when he worked them down and got between her parted legs, for all his effort, she never seemed more than pleasantly warm and damp, having little, gentle orgasms once in a while that made her move her hips languidly and sigh a little, but mostly just telling him how glad she was that they could touch and be happy.
"It's so good we can love each other like this," she'd say. "If only we could all lie down together like this, all of us, we'd be so happy, so much calmer, there'd be so much less hate. . . . " Then she'd sigh softly as another orgasm brushed her, her sigh hardly anything, and she'd smile and then talk some more.
She just about had him convinced, so he figured he'd better go before she took him to church. He liked her, she was for real, but perhaps for that very reason she didn't need him. She could be this way with anyone. There was nothing he could free her from. And they went their separate ways on good terms.
Then there was the girl he saw in the library sleek, tanned, intense college face behind big dark glasses, a feline face with a hard, human mouth. She wore a blue skirt and polka-dot blue sweater and shiny blue boots, all color-coordinated and radiating money. She wasn't ignoring Ethan's stares so much as she didn't give a damn he existed. Her skirt seemed short but it never rose above her stocking tops and tugging it down was almost an irritated, mental tic.
He brought her into a hidden alcove, pulled down her color-coordinated, blue-and-white striped panties, which looked plastic when he first undressed her but were surprisingly soft to the touch as they folded down over her hips, making him sure that a good time was going to be had by all and that she was really soft and pliable at the core.
But then he hit her with every fiery thought and no matter what roared over her, she would just catch her breath and give a little spasmed wiggle. By the time he gave up, she was feeling what it was like to be under the influence of the strongest sex stimulant imaginable, being fucked endlessly by the finest buck of a lover, and still she would only react as though, after a lot of hot, uncomfortable groping, someone had brushed her clitoris and given her the most superficial of quick orgasms.
It finally ended when a tall, thin librarian walked in on them. Ethan instantly blanked her mind and brought her over.
He was running his finger down the tender part of the sleek girl's ass and on between her legs to massage her tepid labia and he left one hand there and brought the librarian up close. She was in her early thirties, hair done up in a bun, thick glasses, but a very human face. She was thin but the college girl had turned out to be bony too, once her clothes were off.
So Ethan reached up under the librarian's skirt with the other hand, thinking vaguely of stereo when, lo and behold, in two seconds the librarian was hotter than a firecracker. After getting rid of the girl, he and the librarian had a brief, bony good time in the back room and he should have learned something from all that but he didn't.
Then there was the strange, voyeuristic thing with the high-school girls in the park. Those very same high-school girls who walked through his path of vision every day he went to the park, chattering and laughing, sometimes laughing at him and being rude, calling out, "Which way to Skid Row?" and "Hi there, handsome!" which was always followed by cruel giggles.
They were cruel, yet they looked so pure, pristine as glass in bright summer dresses and flower-print bellbottoms, bright yellow skirts and bright white blouses and all of them in white knee socks to torture his mind.
So he got one, hooked her from a distance, reeled her in slowly so her companions wouldn't get concerned. And in a short time, there she stood in his infamous glade, waiting to do his bidding.
She stood about five feet high with long bright blonde hair, a bright pink blouse tied at the top with an enormous bow, a perky blue skirt and loafers. Her skirt was only held up by elastic and when he tugged gently at the little witch's covers her blouse popped out and pink nylon appeared above her sinking waistband. The skirt slid easily over her shiny pink undies and dropped around her ankles, leaving plump bare thighs and new pink briefs clinging to her plump new sex.
One pull on the wide bow and her blouse opened easily as he flipped the few buttons through their hooks, baring a sunsuit tummy and round new breasts showing signs of outgrowing a full, still-new bra.
He undid her bra and pulled it down her sleeves and her new tits were strong and pink and wide apart. He chuckled. Heh! Heh! Heh! Oh, it was too fine, and began his thoughts of fire and sex, and the little tease panted without being touched. He pulled her to him, rubbing and exciting her heaving little troublemakers, but instead of a soft sigh, she groaned like a rat, snorted like a pig, and got a selfish, greedy, rat-like look on her face like a child who has eaten too much candy but still wants more, more, more.. . .
Then there was a gasp, but it wasn't from her. Ethan looked up to see her three girl friends standing a few feet away, staring at their companion whose fresh tits were now pointing and red-tipped, shoving out through the open bow of her familiar pink blouse, bra and skirt lying in the grass beside her as this old ass was reaching down towards her round, bared underpants and in her face and movements she showed the burning beginnings of strange new passion.
With a flick of thought the three of them were caught like their friend in a warm, vibrating grip that tugged them down beside her. They were very young and suburban, high-school freshmen or sophomores at most, perhaps only a year younger than the night girl of the dark streets and cheesecloth, but they seemed ages apart. With a fiendish chuckle, Ethan demanded to know if they'd ever seen their friend like this before. They looked sweet but they were crass as hell.
"I've seen Jenny's undies before," snipped the girl in the flowered bellbottoms, with a very superior flick of her hair. They were even superior with each other. Ethan felt better already. "We went on a double date and this boy got her all hot and bothered in the back seat. He took off her brassiere and then when I looked back I could see her undies between his fingers!"
The others giggled.
"Me?" Jenny exclaimed, forgetting completely about being bare and sexually excited. "You were the one breathing so loud I'm sure they heard us for blocks. Don't you think I saw your bare fanny between the seats?" In a high, imitative voice, "No, Jim! Not now, Jim!"
Ethan pulled the flowered bellbottoms down over slick, snow-white briefs only a few inches from Jenny, who still had that mean look on her face. Jenny giggled and ran her hand experimentally over her friend's panties, staying a little above her vitals, doing her "No, Jim!" imitation again.
But Ethan had been working fast on her friend, setting her like a trap, latent, needing only a touch, and at the brush of Jenny's small hand the girl squealed and spread her legs and then squeezed them tightly together, sounding just like she had that night.
Jenny reached out again, fascinated, down lower this time where her friend's briefs marked out her tender parts in a shell-shaped seam that swept up from between her legs, unaware the heat was going up in her own panties. Her friend groaned deep and astonished at the touch, panting now as Jenny advanced on her.
"You saw my titties, eh? Well let's just see . . . " and she shoved up the girl's sweater and bra, "yours!" Tight, conical breasts leaped out and Jenny caught them in her palms and rubbed the nipples with her fingers.
"Did you see him doing that to me?" she asked. "Right on the tips like that? Your titties are so small. Do you feel that?" She felt it.
"Oh, Jenny," she whispered, pushing her chest forward into her friend's hands.
"And you know what else I saw?" said Jenny, running one finger torturingly down the bare tummy. "When I saw your bare fanny, you were wiggling it up and down. Why were you doing that, huh? Why were you doing that?" Her finger had reached the border of the white briefs and was waiting for an answer before going on.
Ethan, leering and taking it all in, slipped his hand up a tall, attractive girl's skirt to her attractive round bottom, and as he began the slow tour down around her buttocks and in between her legs, pushing down her panties as he traveled, she leaned against him and breathed hard, eyes fixed on her two friends' bare, heaving tits and dampening panties.
"You can't help it," Jenny's victim whispered. "You were wiggling your fanny too. You let him get you all hot and bothered. I didn't feel that way at all until I saw you in the back seat with your head thrown back and your hair all undone and your mouth open and him feeling your titties with one hand, and you let him get your skirt way up so he could see all your undies-and you were wiggling your undies right down on his hand and making these noises and he shoved your legs apart and you left them apart and I could see you wiggle your undies and all of a sudden I got all hot and sexy too. It was your fault, Jenny! I was looking back at you and I got hot and my date put his hand right straight into my undies and I couldn't stop him and he pulled them down and put his finger there! . . . "
"Where?" asked Jenny, giving a little pull on the white briefs.
"Oh no, Jenny! Please! Not in front of people! I heard you groan. I bet he got his finger up you too!"
The briefs began to slip down.
"My pussy, Jenny! He made me sit on his hand and he got his finger up my pussy! Jenny!"
Unzipping the tall girl's dress, Ethan set Jenny's friend free to move again. She sensed her freedom and leaped at Jenny, struggling with her, and before Jenny knew what was happening the girl shoved her hand deep into Jenny's pink underpants and Jenny groaned and froze, shoving her butt down and spreading her knees as she felt herself penetrated not just by her friend but with the extra maddening, screaming force of sex urge that Ethan had been building in her. Jenny staggered and Ethan sent his tall girl into the fray, her dress off and her panties shoved down to her thighs, to hold Jenny from the back and finally get her longing hands on Jenny's pink, full tits.
They pulled Jenny's briefs down over the dark brown fuzz of her chubby pubes and made her come, legs wide open, bottom wiggling hard. But, soft slit at the base of her little-girl's tummy still impaled and spending, Jenny collapsed forward, shoving into her friend's thin pants and in a moment the girl was on her back, flying, her white nylon undies flying like a pennant from one of her flailing ankles, her hard breasts in Jenny's mouth, her small cunt spending on Jenny's hand, crying out, "Oh, Jenny, it's you I love! AHHHhhh! Arghhh!"
The tall girl, having Jenny's bare round fanny sticking up now with her inquisitive touches, got too close to see the other girl come and Jenny caught her leg and pulled her down with them and went at her fiercely until she cried out and shoved her pussy up-and only one was left.
She was slender, delicate girl, dressed in a green frock, with her long dark hair pulled back hard into a ponytail. Ethan had been working on her mentally for some time, physically only touching her ears or stroking the back of her neck. This had all turned out much different than he had expected, and he was saving her to see what happened.
And the three panting, giggling girls knew what to do. They took the girl from Ethan, her eyes big as saucers, and they too began to caress her gently.
"Don't be afraid," they told her. "You know we love you. We just want to look at you. You got to watch us with our clothes off. Now,you play."
She blushed as her dress was unzipped and fell around her feet. She stood in a half-slip and a pink bra.
"That's a pretty bra," they told her gently, playing with the bright pink bow in the center of it, and the alabaster mounds that flowed down into it. She was much better-looking with her loose dress off.
They were shy with her, hovering like hummingbirds around the breasts that had surprised them by their maturity, until finally Jenny's friend slipped her inquisitive hand down into the pink recess and then laughed, calling out, "Her titties are all hot and hard like -ours." They yanked her bra loose and exclaimed at her beauty and she stood, eyes down, like a trapped faun.
The tall girl had been playing with the girl's legs, lifting the slip as she rose, then she called to the others and pulled the slip down, the girl blushing and trying to cover herself in a tiny, skimpy, very sexy little pink bikini that clung so tight it even showed the lips of her hidden vagina.
"You're so pretty!" they marveled, "You're such a pretty girl!"
They kissed her cheeks and breasts and flat tummy and belly button and thighs. They began tracing the crack of her fanny that showed above her low-slung panties and then they followed it down into her panties and started pulling down her little bikini in front. Tentative as a wild creature, she reached out, shaking, and closed her fingers on one of Jenny's nipples, still dark and full, and Jenny groaned and gasped.
They stood like that for a moment, Jenny staring at her as if for the first time, stunned at the intensity of her own reactions, her hard, throbbing nipple still captured in the slim girl's hand. With a passionate moan Jenny ripped down the pink bikinis and shoved the girl's knees wide, forcing her own soft pussy up into this pretty girl's open, seething groin. She sobbed and threw her arms around Jenny's neck and they fell to the ground, Jenny on top, forcing the girl's long legs wide with her own spread legs, her round, girlish bottom rising and falling and shoving as she desperately rubbed her tenderest parts against those her girl friend bared so completely.
"Jenny," moaned the girl as Jenny squeezed her nipples, "Oh, Jenny, Jenny!"
"Ohhh!" moaned Jenny, deep-throated and humping now. "Oh! You're so pretty!" And they pushed their pussies together until their bright-pink, nether lips seemed like mouths kissing and Jenny's tummy distended as she pushed down hard, harder, until the lips of then cunts squeezed open like a French kiss and their two hidden buttons of passion touched and they both cried out. The girl's knees flew up and she locked her slim legs around Jenny's waist and they wept and cried and groaned as their clitoris' rubbed softly and, her knees still up to Jenny's waist, she spread herself as wide as she could and looked like a bug on its back, her knees vibrating.
The other two girls were down on their knees, shuddering and coming from Ethan's fingers up both of them, he cursing the thin diaphragms of skin up both their cunts.
"I just don't feel like it," he muttered to himself. "Tomorrow if I feel like it I might deflower a hundred virgins."
But the view was great. Jenny and her lover were deep in the throes of sex as one of Jenny's friends, collapsing from another spend, fell between their wide-spread legs. Jenny's white-stockinged legs were spread so wide her buttocks revealed her tender pink anus and when the spent, sweating girl reached up and touched that squeezed-up little button Jenny moaned and sobbed with the added thrill that flashed through her.
Soon the other girl had joined her companion, kissing and touching and licking the lovers' tenderest parts which they had so obligingly spread and were too far gone to protect. Jenny and her lover cried out and sobbed and humped all the harder as their deepest secrets were probed and set shivering even more.
"Oh! OH! Uhhh! I love you!" they sobbed to each other. "I love you! I love you! Uh! Uh! UHH! AH! AHHHaaAHHhh! AAHHhhh! AHhhh!" And they rubbed their cunts and breasts harshly and sharply together, mouths in a deep soul kiss, little buttocks shivering again and again as they came and came, both finally groaning out in one voice, deep and long and crying, and with dying moans they collapsed limp and still.
Later, as they lay still naked in the grass, Jenny, still stroking and feeling the slim, pretty girl, wondered, "Do you suppose I'm a lesbian?"
"I think," Ethan told her, "it's more likely you're just a lover." It didn't matter much what he told her, though that seemed reasonable to him and he was proud of thinking of it. She wouldn't remember anyhow.
Soon they slipped into their clothes and Ethan set them free.
There were other situations, brief meetings in doorways, but they all began to blur together into one big pair of opaque pantyhose.
He did gain an appreciation for pants-suits he'd never had before. First of all, you don't wear pantyhose, like nylon overalls, under a pants-suit and, second of all, as his victim stared open-eyed and wondering before passion clouded her mind standing in a doorway with her back to people passing only a few feet away and behind her with her pants being unbuttoned and unzipped and pulled down over her bottom, the pants rested easily on her spread thighs and her pants-suit jacket covered her pantied, soon-to-be-bared ass.
So Ethan roamed her most private places at will, and from the sidewalk she just looked like she was standing normally, talking to an old man, until she shuddered and her knees went weak with orgasm.
But as a whole, it had just begun to all start blurring together. He hated to admit it, but being the scourge of womankind, could be overdone like anything else and, as good as it was, by that evening he was just as happy to go home and play Dutch uncle to Lynn Soo and eat a quiet dinner.
He climbed the long stairs to his apartment and fell into the shower to soak and splash, feeling the sweat and dust pour off him in rivulets, lolling in the biting spray, and he felt almost good when he got out, very much revived after a hard day at work. He even considered skipping the dinner after all but, what the hell!
He pulled on clean clothes and felt very good strutting into the living room like a spring chicken, only to find a burly, pug-faced man digging through Ethan's desk drawers.
"Hey!" said Ethan, feeling very spry to take on this goon. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Ethan Bowles?" demanded the man, taking out a pile of dirty magazines, flipping through them, and then tossing them back.
"Yeah," said Ethan. "Who are you?"
"FBI," said the pin-striped pug, casually closing the desk drawer and opening a big tobacco tin Ethan used to hold silverware. "Down in this neighborhood there's always a little dope hidden somewhere around. Where's yours, Bowles?"
"I'm just an old man!" bellowed Ethan, "But I'll tell you where the big dope is!"
"Where?" asked the man, looking around for something big he'd missed. Then he shrugged it off and said, "Don't worry, Bowles. If we wanted it, we could find it quick enough. Just be good or we'll take this room apart nail by nail."
"Be good!" exclaimed Ethan. "Look here, I'm just an old man! Just a harmless old man!"
"Uh huh," said the agent. "Bet you think this front you're using is pretty good. You got this crummy apartment. You got a government pension. You got old. How long have you been planning this, Bowles."
"What?"
"Get straight, Bowles. This just looks like a democracy until you cross the big man. Then you get taken apart piece by piece and don't go yelling about your rights 'cause we don't listen.
"Now you've got some weapon. Shut up, Bowles. We thought you were just some old crank until an agent tailing Marie Taraslova caught your little meeting. So you're dickering with the Reds, trying for the highest bidder, eh? Well, you try that and a little man like you always comes out at the bottom. About six feet under the bottom."
"Wait!" cried Ethan, afraid now. After the thing with the policewoman, he'd forgotten why he'd gone there in the first place and now it all came back like a bad dream. "This is all a mistake!" he said. "I don't even know any Marie what's-her-name!"
"Oh yeah?" roared the agent, whipping out a snapshot. "And who's this? General MacArthur?"
It was a telephoto shot of a dark doorway. A man walked by on the sidewalk. Back in the corner of the doorway stood Ethan with an evil smile on his face. Standing directly in front of him, her back to the camera, was a black-haired woman. She wore a pants-suit and her legs were spread slightly. If you looked closely, you could see the wrinkles of material where her pants and underpants had been shoved rudely down her hips, held up now only by the pressure of her spread thighs.
If you could see through the jacket, you'd see her bare bottom shoving desperately down onto a point of ecstatic sensation that had pushed rudely up into her tender, unveiled slit. She had had an accent, Ethan remembered now. He had assumed she was French, which added a little excitement to it. He had just seen her slinking down the street and pulled her over.
"Eeeethann!" called a high, singing voice across the hall. "I need help setting the table!"
The agent spun around, located the sound, flipped open his notebook to double-check, and whirled back to Ethan, spitting out, "So! You're dealing with the Chinks, too! You filthy, unpatriotic bastard! You'd sell your own mother for a quarter."
"My mother's been dead twenty years," said Ethan. "There's no one left but me."
"We'll get you," said the agent, taking one more scrutinizing look around the room. "You're slippery, but you'll make a false move and we'll get you!"
In terror Ethan blanked the man's mind, freezing him where he stood.
"It was all a hoax!" shouted Ethan into his mind. "There was nothing to it! Ethan Bowles is just a silly, harmless old man. He' s just a dirty old man who was propositioning that woman because she was good-looking. It's a hoax. A mistake! No weapon! A hoax!"
Then he set the bullish agent free. The man shook his head, looked at Ethan, made a few notes, and finally said, "Now, this is serious business, mister. We could prosecute you for false reports, but we'll let it go this time. You see anything suspicious about anything you see, especially that Chinese woman across the hall -all those Chinese are in it together and you let us know. But don't ever call us up on fabrications again. We've got too much real important work to do, keeping this nation a free democracy!"
And he left.
A minute later came Ethan's master's voice again, high and pretty, calling, "Eeethann!"
"Coming, Lynn Soo!" he called back and trudged across the hall to her apartment.
8
ETHAN knocked on Lynn Soo's door and she chimed back, "Come in!" But when he came in, she wasn't there.
"I'm dressing," she called from the back room. "You set the table and set out candles. Everything's cooking!"
"Everything's cooking?" he called back and she giggled. He could even kid her like that, sexual puns, and she put up with him. Liked him, even.
He dug around in the organized cabinets and found silverware and paper napkins that he folded across for a touch of elegance. She reminded him of a tasteless, tactless, tomboy kid sister and when life got hard, like now, she could always be trusted to come up with something brash and unlikely and in bad taste that made life a little more realistic.
He found plates and the salt shaker and got out some glasses and finally, after a lot of digging, came up with the candles. She was a bug about candles and they were always burning here, but he'd never had to find them before. Finally he just happened to open an unobtrusive cabinet in the corner and it looked like he'd stumbled into candle paradise.
"Think you've got enough candles here?" he called, taking out a few and sniffing at something that smelled spicingly vegetable as it bubbled on the stove.
"Yes!" she called back. "I have plenty. Put lots out!"
Lots was the order of the day so lots it was. He stopped at ten but they were the biggest ten he could find; he put them all around the room. It was dark outside now so he went ahead and lit them and turned the light off. It gave a real cave-like feel to the place. He'd get some candles too, but it seemed like a lonely thing to do alone. The whole room flickered in sharp yellow waves.
"Hey, how about it, group?" he called to her. "By the time you get out here, I'll be finishing dinner and starting to do the dishes!"
"In a minute!"
So he puttered around her familiar living room, toying with a jigsaw puzzle she was working on, looking again at the familiar pictures on the walls, running his hand along the dark bookshelves.
"Shall I turn down the stove?" he called helpfully. "I'm afraid the food is going to get overcooked."
"No, it can cook forever," she called back, stalemating his final attempt to get her out. What was it, clothes or something he was supposed to admire? Well, if forever it had to be, forever it was. He was about to sit down resignedly and have a good sleep when a soft voice behind him said, "Okay, now. Turn around."
He turned around with a resigned look on his face, ready to dutifully admire whatever it was. It was a beautiful Mongol princess and Ethan was speechless.
Where to start when it hit him all at once. Soft, high boots of many skins, stitched together and wrapped with big thongs of leather that crisscrossed around her legs. Long brown skirt that flowed down to her boots, rough and heavy, embroidered along the hem. Heavy belt and fierce carved buckle. Embroidered purple shirt glows under open rough skin jacket, her rough, pitch-black hair falling vertical from conical fur-trimmed Tartar cap, and then there was her face, her yellow skin and slanted eyes and long, barbarous face, not pretty any more, but beautiful. Her brash tactlessness was suddenly transformed into pure wildness, candles flickering off her face and reflecting in her black, expressionless eyes.
"Lynn Soo . . . " he stumbled, "I think it's . . . beautiful."
What had happened to the gay little girl? Now her lips only moved enough to acknowledge his stunned worship.
She was something out of a storybook, riding across the plains of far eastern Russia, swaggering and laughing in the flickering lights of the great campfires of a thousand years ago.
She accepted his adoration like a statue of a saint, with a look of understanding for the problems of all men of all time etched on her features, but giving no special help or rewards to any single man. She seemed more like a strange animal standing there in the room with him than like the silly person he had been expecting.
She took a few steps toward him wide, heavy steps echoing sweating horses and frozen stones. She looked haughty and proud and earthy and cruel and gentle.
"It's very nice, Lynn Soo," he said uneasily, feeling his excitement grow, shaking as though he were frightened, his throat caught, his chest woozy. She nodded her agreement brusquely, marching across the frozen camp, haloed in the horses' frozen breath, to welcome him with a touch on the cheek.
She was beautiful. She was exotic. In all his travels he'd never seen anything like her. And with easy, barbarous, Tartar grace she touched him on the cheek and, against his will, he may have even cried out a warning, but they touched and their thoughts slammed together like thunder and she was thrown back, crying out, catching herself with a painful stagger on the arm of the couch.
She looked up at him carefully, interestedly, with emotionless eyes, evaluating this new situation. Ethan was truly frightened now.
"Lynn Soo," he said, "I think your new clothes are beautiful. Why don't you change back now so you don't get them dirty, and then we can eat.. . ? "
He loved her. He didn't want to hurt her. But the self she was showing him was breaking down his resistance. He had too much power. It was always a temptation to use it. Always.
"Ethan," she said, face still frozen, "you just did something to me."
"Nothing, my dear!" he pleaded, suddenly terrified she would send him away. Just get out of those clothes, go back to condescending to me, laughing at me, stop looking at me like that. He suddenly discovered with horrible emptiness that he needed her, depended on having her around to chide him and make tea for him.
"It was nothing, my dear!" he said. "I merely slipped, must have pushed against you, please forgive me!"
"Eeethann," she said, drawing it out thoughtfully, "You've got a secret you're not telling me."
And the Tartar Goddess carefully began to approach him again.
"No!" he cried. "It's nothing! Stay back! Bring dinner out!" and his gorge rose from the excitement, but she wasn't going to stop.
Desperate, he made a jump for the door, but she leaped in front of him, warlike, barbaric, and clamped her hands against his neck before she'd even landed; the power surged between them again like a giant switch thrown clanging shut by the strength of both hands, the ground shaking from the enormity of the surge.
Like a helpless spectator he saw all his thoughts about her, about his new power, about the past few days, pulled out of him. He was terrified. He'd never connected minds with anyone who cared about him, or even knew him, and the difference was tremendous. She knew where to look, what to pull, instinctively demanding the right thoughts, and so she was as much in control as he.
Helplessly he felt her pull out and see his love for her, foolishly blustering at her and, under the bluster, almost her slave. He also had to watch with her as she saw through his eyes the many forms she took to him, little sister, yes, but also silly pain-in-the-neck and, also, late at night in bed, memories of a bit of leg he had seen as she ran upstairs, lustful wonderings and secret self-excitings about undressing her, flashing memories of panty through a tight blue pair of slacks, images of her buttocks and breasts taken from data received secondhand, fictions built from the curves of her clothes, blurrily, naked and separate from her real body. He also felt her sense his genuine fondness for her, his happiness to see her. That too was embarrassing to an old grouch. But things were pouring into his mind too. Of the highest order was her genuine affection for him, her fondness for what he really was; it was like love, and he bathed in those thoughts briefly. And then he could take the others, that she sometimes thought of him as a silly old fool and sometimes as a bitter and scolding old failure of a housemother.
And he found she was not waiting patiently for her man to come back from Africa like the nice little girl in the movies. He had always assumed her dates were with girl friends or dinner dates with good friends.
But now through her eyes and body, he felt her passion and loneliness, her dates real dates, with kisses that made her weak, trying to fight off the woozy compliance of hands rubbing her breasts, the hot compliance of new hands squeezing her nipples, how she kept thinking about her fianc�, worrying, how a few of them had gotten.. . no, she had let them, reach under her skirt, squeezing and rubbing, making her do things she couldn't help, how she had liked one boy very much and had eventually let him make love to her, and still she had remembered her fianc�. How two others, one on a first date in this apartment while Ethan slept, had fucked her until she had forgotten her fianc� and raised her knees and begged for more, whispering their names when they had done her, and waking up frightened. She carried this with her now, put away where she didn't have to think about it or worry over it, but carrying it just the same.
And much closer to her consciousness, in a way much stronger than those other thoughts because she even mused on it sometimes were . . .wonder of wonders . . . some lustful thoughts about him, Ethan, as a dirty old man lusting after her! And even a few lustful thoughts just about him, Ethan, because she . . . loved him. The thoughts were in a nice place, with memories of being fucked by her fianc� and the pleasure that gave her. It was a nice place to be.
There were other things, about her work and her secrets and her art sense and her intelligence. There was her mind opened up for a brief instant, and he knew her, so that when Ethan opened his eyes, his hands had somehow gone of their own volition to cradle her head and make firmer the connection, he saw two people instead of one standing in front of him, neither of them being the one he had meant to have dinner with.
First was the princess of the Tartars, who showed up with amazing clarity both in body and in mind. And then there was a chimera, a double image almost as real, of the girl of wild fuckgy ponies and alien confusions trying to survive in the city, a kind and troubled person who was waiting for something she wasn't clear about, a waiting bred of desperation, and a desperation breeding a simmering lust.
He ran his finger across her exotic, cat-eyed face, thinking how lovely and yet how sad she was, and how he liked her, loved her. Suddenly he found their minds were still joined, felt the flush and glow in her. He broke away from her, trying to break the bond, but it was still there and he tried to hide the trigger thoughts of love and lust that wielded his power, and in trying to hush them, he thought them, and the flush leaped across her skin like an oil fire, out across her arms and across her face and down into her dress, the city girl pliant and not at all surprised, the Mongol princess standing with her head thrown back, her fires raging, basking in the heat.
"Ethan," said the Mongol beauty before him, but in the voice of the third person, the one he knew; his heart jumped and she caught her breath when she felt it, the first time her face had shown any emotion at all
"Ethan," she said, "don't be ashamed. I am a woman and you've set me burning. I trust you, Ethan. I want you. Soothe me."
He was so excited he thought his heart would give way. He tried to hold his thoughts down and couldn't. She felt it and her eyes were wild. She cried out, but then she stood tall in her fur boots and jangling Tartar clothes, thinking to him, "Don't hold back with me, buddy. I'm as tough as you any day!"
And then he cried out, for the first time not just controlling but loose and free, and they flew into each other's arms, rocking and hugging, kissing hard and deep and long until they both saw whole galaxies of red novas and universes full of shooting stars.
"You're wonderful! How I want you!" they tried to say to each other, and though their mouths were touching and feeling and rejoicing and could not speak, their minds offered the thoughts to each other like children giving valentines.
Then his hand made its way under her rough jacket and found, through the brightly-colored embroidery of her shirt, not a hard bra but soft, warm flesh, and desperately they both struggled with her shirt buttons, their fingers getting tangled up together when they met at the middle buttons. When he jerked it open and caught her breasts like he was grasping for a lifeline, she cried out and her knees trembled and Ethan pulled her to the floor. They sank into the rug.
The image of the Tartar beauty was still strong, even stronger with the dark blouse open and breasts bare and shimmering in the candlelight, her chest casting a yellow glow in the flickering candles. Her nipples turned hard as pebbles and her breasts took on a higher, harder shape, and softly she whispered, "Ohhhhh! Men have had me fully and never given me such pleasure!"
Her fires were raging and her bright teeth began to show between her lips, but her eyes those slanted, regal eyes transcended the fires with their blackness.
She reached up to him and began to unbutton his shirt; he rubbed and kissed and worshipped her maddening breasts, her life-giving breasts. He was going to stop her hand, the excitement would be too much and he would come instantly if she touched his chest, but she had pulled the thought keys from his mind and was holding him, controlling him, the same way he kept her from spending at his first maddening, fiery touch to her thrustingly eager breasts. She smiled slightly at his amazement that she had plumbed him so deeply, but the smile turned to a sneer of passion before she could silence her face, as her aching breasts forced another wave of hot excitement across her, and she pulled harder at his shirt.
He couldn't resist her. He was pulled into her web and his lips cried prayers of thanks pressed against her lips again, his hands still possessors of her panting chest, her breasts sleek golden eggs that he could not get his fill of.
She pulled his shirt open and they lay together like two douds in a dream, misty, flying things, her dizzy breasts shoving up into his chest, hard nipples pushing like caressing fingers, her arms loose and loving around his neck, lips frozen together, minds flying together like two clouds in a dream.
"Darling," whispered their minds silently to each other. "Darling, you make me ache like a mountain cave, and soon you will fill me, make me fly, make me whole again!"
With both of them shaking he rose for a moment from his barbarous wild princess, passion taking its toll, but her fierce soul embracing the burning passion, making it her own.
And slowly, lovingly, with caresses and kisses that made the wild face freeze in loving looks of surprise and anxiety, he inched her long skirt up over her boots and up her long, long, tender legs, stopping to press his cheek against her calf and examine her soft knees and she lay back and could no longer suppress little moans she tried to hide in her arms, lifting her breasts high with the motion, lying on her back on the warm summer plains of eastern Russia, the moon bright and the fires flickering, events in her mind no soul could understand, her arms crossed wantonly across her mouth, breasts bare and heaving, Ethan pulled her heavy skirt up her thighs and thought he heard horses stomping and Tartars laughing.
Ethan pulled her skirt up her thighs and then up to her waist and kneeled before her, loving her with his mind and blinking with his eyes, and three images danced, flickering in and out where the single girl lay.
The beautiful Mongol princess, her exotic yellow body revealed to her lover as they lay out under the stars, her breasts pushing up from the open ruins of her fur jacket and dark blouse, her long skirt piled up on top of her hips, back of the skirt still under her, framing her soft curves, her fur boots spread slightly from the heat in her thighs.
But framed by the dark earth colors of the Tartar clothes, cushioned and surrounded by the expanse of her vaised skirt, lay not a peasant's rough linen but Lynn Soo's soft bright-white bikini undies, with just a trace of frilly lace around her elastic waist and leg bands, and a touch of frills where the thin nylon clung round and full of brimming between her beautiful thighs, panties covering just what had to be covered, leaving a wide, flat expanse of bare skin above them to invite you to search for her belly button.
Suddenly in this aspect of her, all the exotic clothes seemed a useless extravagance and she was so familiar and welcome that he laughed out loud and flopped down beside her to kiss the friendly lips he knew to be waiting, kissing her happily and fully. But there was something else.
There was the other Lynn Soo, the lost city woman. She made herself known when she felt the skirt pulled away from her taut, bulging panties by a deep, frank, female odor that drifted up through the thin nylon. And she ade herself known in their two enwrapped minds. His friendly Lynn Soo stayed for him as long as she could, to comfort and kiss him, but as suddenly as a summer storm her lips flashed burning hot, her mind begging him not just to admire the little cushiony curve of nylon between her legs, but to touch it with his hand between her aching thighs, caress it with his palm, please, please, rub her longing, fiery loins.
"Yessss!" she groaned deep down in her throat as his hand found its soft, steaming little mark. "Yess! Ohhhh! Ohhhhh yesssss ohhhhhh! . . . " And she writhed on the rug in twists and squirms that emanated out from her shimmering bikini core.
Ethan, shaking and dizzy from the feelings her mind was pouring into him, stumblingly freed her from her jacket and blouse and finally, finding the twisting buttons of her skirt, undid it and slipped it from around her squirming tummy. Her panties were growing noticeably wet and sticky on the smooth little bulge where the frills stopped and the slick undies clung up between her legs.
He tried ineptly several times to get her boots undone but she kept twisting her legs away. Finally a familiar, happy, panting voice groaned, "Eethann, I'm sorry, I can't keep my legs still!" And she shivered a little and moaned, "Oh Ethan, it's wonderful." Well he knew, for the shiver crossed him too, just as when the sight of her squirming body made him groan, she groaned too with the same hard, strange emotion.
Finally he locked her down with the backs of her thighs against his kneeling legs and her legs bent across his so he could hold her down with his arm as he undid her boots. Rolled back like this he could see down the backs of her smooth thighs where the white nylon pressed tight between her legs but when the nylon got to the base of her buttocks, it stopped in a shell-shaped flare and the back side of her panties were net mesh pressed against her bottom, advertising how the bikini squeezed the cheeks of her buttocks together, leaving only a thin, shallow crack between them. She cried out with the shock of his arousal and they were in each others arms again, his hands attracted like magnets to her upturned breasts.
She had reached a plateau of constant passion in which every inch of her body was erogenous. He could take her nipples into his mouth and move his tongue around them and she moaned and squirmed as though he still squeezed her burning panties; then he could just touch her neck and she moaned and squirmed, thrashing her frilly panties in abandon as she clung to the frozen wave of passion before the fall. Soon he found he could just touch her arm or her ankle and she was still in ecstasy so he took his time, wanting to see and touch and taste and smell every soft aspect of her body to memorize forever.
He rolled her onto her stomach and touched her high, clear shoulder blades and she moaned his name and couldn't keep still. He pushed her thick black hair aside and brushed the nape of her neck, traveled down her smooth backbone, toured her olive-yellow back from side to side, touching and seeing and memorizing while every brush against any spot on her body was as though his hand still cupped and rubbed her aching mound and tender cunt; and she moaned with anticipation that he'd even look again at her pretty white-netted bottom that she couldn't keep still.
And he did look, long and lusting, and the frozen wave of passion to which she clung crested a little higher and her shapely ass also rose just a fraction, round globes as clear as if she wore nothing, yet squished together to shape and stick out and show off. He couldn't keep his hands off her, squeezing her beautiful buttocks and watching them squish and move in their mesh prison, slipping his little finger between the mesh to just slightly brush her bare crack.
But at the touch, she gasped, and nature made her shove her ass up, skewering Lynn Soo, who gasped desperately, forced by nature at the penetration to shove forward again. She groaned with loss to feel his finger slip from her, and then the moan became a moan of passion as his hand fell from the high net peaks of her tense bottom into the fiery nylon pit between her legs.
She had no thoughts then, only instinct, to jerk her legs wide and shove all her tenderest parts up against his hand, her bottom wiggling slowly up and down with the sexual tension. Then she began to cry.
Ethan was terrified when he heard her slight weeping and he stopped, but with that she burst into real tears, sobbing, "Oh no! Don't stop! Please don't stop.. . . Ahhh! Ohhh! Yesss! . . . " And she turned over onto her back, keeping her legs wide apart so Ethan's hand could slip along the wet nylon until his fingers climbed her delicate mound and reached the frills of .her bikinis again.
"Don't be afraid!" she whispered between gasps. "I cry from joy! You can do nothing now that won't make me cry from joy!"
He kissed her, kissed her all over, her dark nipples like big marbles in his mouth, down her chest kissing and touching ribs and hollows. Her tension grew higher and the tension rang in his ears; and he grabbed her panties and pulled them down over her round buttocks and down off her dark, downy mound. The nylon crotch was caught in her cracks front and back from their petting but it finally let go, slipping down between her legs, wet and sticky. Off her fine curves the bikinis squeezed down to almost nothing and he lost them in the rug in his eagerness to kiss her where he'd been longing to kiss her all along.
He tentatively, hardly at all, stroked and explored her hairy ridges and long, steep summit, playing and toying along her pouting nether lips, a tiny pink flower trying to push between, and she arched her back and pushed her clefted pubes up and he took her high, taut buttocks, one in each hand, fingers meeting up between them, pulled her up onto his lap and onto his stomach until his lips could meet her blazing, treasured cunt. He just brushed across the darkening lips and she cried out; he buried his face in her soft fur and deeper between the fleshy lips and down into her soft pussy's raging nerve centers.
He kissed and sucked, tasting the salt of her sex juices priming her for ecstasy, felt with his tongue the hard pink tickler that sent her senses jangling, dug with his tongue to measure the width and depth of her, and all the time she wept and made sweet, desperate sounds, soon beginning to vibrate and shiver.
"I can't last!" she cried out to him. "I'll die! I'll go insane!"
But she'd last, and inside her mind Ethan had run into a strange thought wish clinging and flickering, something about a fire in an inferno, and tied to that fire was the wish that no matter how she begged to be finished, fucked, done, destroyed, she prayed, now near-unconscious thought, to go as far as she could to burn.
So he basked in her clear, sensitive cries, her shivering and burning, juice slipping from hr now as fast as he lapped it from her raging velvet well. He rejoiced his hands up her muscular bottom and then spread her pussy wider and squeezed and toyed with her breasts as her legs kicked and her body squirmed.
Sweat appeared on her brow and breasts and down her tummy and at desperate, near moments, as he dangled her over the edge of eternity and she thought at least she would be released from life to fall forever, she would wrap her long, pretty legs around his neck and sob with every exploration and penetration of his lips and tongue, then groan in sweet agony that she still flared on the brink, the groan changing to a sobbing moan of anticipation as she was taken shivering to even higher planes of fire and waves of spinning passion.
Then at last, as clear in her mind as her name, she reached her limit. She was chiming like the perfect vibrations of a fine, high bell, and she could take no more.
Her mind was spinning, her pretty body shaking hard now, every inch of her straining curves, rigid hills, and sweating valleys were as tender and sexual as her cunt had been in its highest excitement, and in her breasts and cunt and up her ass was a feeling needing time and not amplitude any more as the basis for description as when first put in a room with a loud, steady sound, you react to the sound, but if you are left in that room, you become that sound. So Lynn Soo's lovely fires were no longer raging in her as much as simply consuming her, and Ethan pulled his clothes off and set his stony penis free.
Her body flamed no less than before as she lay rigid and spread-eagled on the rug, but she was calmer now, seeing Ethan's cock spring up out of his pants, seeing her end coming. She was no longer afraid she might actually die from the ecstasy. She just wanted that cock in her and she didn't care then if she lived or died. So in a strange way, she was calmer.
Perhaps this is a factor but whatever the reasons, when Ethan pulled off his trousers and shorts and had done away with shirts and shoes and all, he looked down at Lynn Soo, expecting to see his dear friend of the frilly little undies and uncontrolled giggles, the pretty girl he was so familiar with, which he had now explored and excited so completely she had no secrets left from him but she was not there.
Instead, when he turned and looked down, he was facing the mysterious one who had first broken his will, made him love her, made his mind spin. The dark nomad princess lay waiting, eyes glazed with passion, lips curled up shamelessly telling all who saw she had been reached, her tender secrets used against her successfully, secrets no more, and yet still proud, ready to accept even her own downfall with open arms, not afraid to show what she felt.
"Ethan," said that strange beautiful voice so flat and low, "as you sink your rod into my body, I will be worshipping you."
She said it just like that, not passionately, not demanding anything, just telling him that terrible secret because he had had or was about to enjoy all her others.
He thought he would go right through the ceiling with passion and love and he knelt between her raised knees as at an alter. It no longer mattered how much he had touched her, how intimately, for every breath and every atom of her was strange and new as he guided his trembling penis down through her black hairs and pressed down along the vermilion lips, spreading her warm, lubricating juice over its tip as she waited, her eyes closed and her lips open, breasts pressed down across her chest as she bent her back with the tension of anticipation.
Then he pushed down through her black fur and down through her pouting lips and up into her hot body, sliding up through her shuddering velvet curtains, deep up into her beautiful body and she cried out "UHHHH!" Her head flew back and her butt shoved up and the princess was conquered, crying and begging and panting and shuddering.
"Uh! UHH! Please! Yes! Ethan, I love you! I love you! OH! UH! UH! UHH! Darling! AH! UHH!"
Her bottom was shaking up and down and her hard tits shoved against his chest, her body twisting and wriggling on his penis, their minds caught and rising and intertwining like two black snakes, like two scorching ropes of fire, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" Losing their minds in each other's genitals, losing their souls up the scorching ropes of fire "UH! Ah! UH! AH!" Not even sure who was crying what, she began to come for the first time.
"Eeeethaannn! AH! Uhhhhh! AHHH! AHHH!" but the faster she worked her buttocks, the more she rubbed her raging tits into his chest, the faster and harder she still needed to go, flying in madness and night wings, her body rolled up now with her pretty legs around his waist, faster, around his back, "AH! AH! OH!" Faster, harder, "OH NO! UH!! UH!! I love you! I LOVE you!" Her back arching, small hands urging him on, 'AHH! AHHH Oh, darling!" She arched until her tummy was bending, "AHH! UHH!" And he took those rock-hard nipples and squeezed hard, hard, shoving hard, her bottom shoving her pussy up his cock harder, harder, and he slipped one hand over her round tummy and onto her wiggling, shoving buttocks and down into the crack between the heaving peaks.
Her crack was wide, her buttocks fanned out from the way her legs were thrown wide, and he got right beyond the rounded, heaving peaks, and shoved down deep, caught for a minute at a tight little portal, "OH! OH!" and then through, "OH! AHH!! ! " And into a warm, tight, hot little cavern, his cock shoved up her other velvet cavern, skewered two ways, and she arched her back and shoved her pussy up and down in tight, hard, little strokes, his finger up her bottom while she cried high and loud.
"AHH! AHHHH!! I'M GOING TO COME! AHHH!! OH, GOD! OH, MY GOD!! AHH!! AHHH! I'M . . . OH! OH! OH! I'M.. . AHH!! AHH! UHHHHHH! I'M C O MMMMMMINNNNGGG!! ! ! AH!! ! ! ! AHHHhhhhh! OHhhhh! AHHHHHHaaahhh! Oh, Eeethann! Oh, my Darling! Ahhhh! . . . "
But she had been going a long time and Ethan had just begun.
"Oh no!" she cried when she felt him going on. "Ahh! Oh no! Uhhhhh! It's so deep! Oh no!! Ohhh! Ohhh! OHHH! OHHHHHH!! ! " And she wiggled and shoved and the sweat rolled off her and her eyes went wild and then turned up as she took it hard, going mad, at last arching up again and crying "I'm yours! I'm dyyying!! ! " And she shook.
But it only warmed her up and orgasms slammed her hard and fast and she no longer made sense; she was just fucking, fucking, HARDER! Shuddering, falling back only to be overwhelmed by another wave, until she couldn't remember when it had begun, didn't know who she was except as a part of Ethan, mind whipped clean, surrendering everything with her hot, racked, naked little body.
Ethan came hard and as he came she was slammed by her last orgasm, shaking up and down on his penis and then freezing, her head thrown back as far as it would go, her mouth and eyes forced open as far as they would go, her legs open as far as they would go, her back bent as far as it would go, and her pussy shoved up his cock as far as it would go.
She froze there, feeling his hot bolts shooting up her pussy and deep up into her body, his eyes shut and lips back, his old butt shoved deep between her legs and then, with a little cry, the proud, cat-eyed princess fainted his slave.
9
SHE came to, gently and submissively, completely undone. She found his limp cock was still deep inside her, and to her surprise she had a weak, shivering little orgasm when she felt it. She whispered a surprised little oh, shivered once from her pussy, and hid her face shyly.
"I love you, Lynn Soo," Ethan told her, and she smiled and threw her arms around his neck, pulling his head down where she coudl devour his lips.
"You know how much I love you," she murmured. When he pulled his cock out of her a little later, she was still too limp and spent to move, lying spread-eagled for almost another hour taking short, shallow breaths as he watched her full breasts still dark from their manhandling toss with each breath, and her poor spent pussy where a little of his seed dripped down between her tender buttocks, and her face flushed with tenderness, and her whole body that was his.
"What will we do?" he asked suddenly. "I'm an old man? What will we do?"
It was strange not to be in complete control after making love. Recently he'd nearly forgotten that two people were involved. He had thought only in terms of instants and uses and small excitements.
He was still the conqueror here. She had given up everything and, although he had soared with her, she was still the ravished who had been humbled with no quarter given. Yet as he thought of how many problems their love might face, he needed her as his equal; even as he heard her satiated mumble in his ear, he was afraid.
"Don't be afraid," she chided gently, for she had been taken all the way down and had no further worries. "Love me now! I'm yours! Don't hold back. I love you."
And they spent the evening and the night kissing and crying and touching. They couldn't get enough of each other. They lay in her bed, both sore as hell now, giggling and whispering.
Once, sore as she was, she got excited while he was touching her, and he kissed and soothed her sore pussy as she whispered sweet nothings and then arched her back suddenly and gave a little shivering moan, crying out, and lay cradled in his arms.
In the middle of the night they remembered dinner still on the stove. She was right. It could cook forever and still be tasty. They sat at the table naked in more candlelight the hairy, flabby old man and the sleek, pretty, young Oriental girl, like something out of a good dream, eating strange vegetables and giggling and chuckling.
"You know, Lynn Soo," he told her when they cuddled back into bed, "you may not have sensed it, but at some point when I stop thinking a certain thought and set you free you're going to forget all this."
"I sensed it," she whispered.
He chuckled. "But I won't forget it. So I'll have to do it to you all over again when you're able to remember!"
She laughed. "Not for a month or so, Ethan!" she groaned. "I love you and I'll be yours whenever you want me, but I am so sore! I am one big ache!"
"So am I," he lamented, "and I did only a little of the work."
She laughed deep and soft, a woman's laugh. She was like an old man's dream, and now that he had her, he wasn't sure they were going to manage;, but he was grateful for just what he had. I
He even considered, and it was a terribly painful thought, about not capturing her again once he let her go. After all, the memory of her would burn bright and warm in him for whatever time he had left, but what would she do when he was gone? Perhaps it was better to set her free for her roving young sailor and for Ethan to keep her only as a fairy girl, a memory.
Their minds were at rest with each other, not probing any more, so these thoughts remained his alone as the two of them fell asleep, his cool old hand soothing her sore pussy.
In the morning he awoke to find her sitting on the bed smiling softly and nuzzling him. She was naked and golden in the sunlight.
"Good morning," she whispered. "And what would my lord and master like for breakfast?"
"A cup of coffee and her ladyship!" he. crackled right back at her, pretty damn quick for this early in the day, and he pulled her down onto the bed beside him.
"No!" she cried. "Don't you do anything! I can hardly move as it is!"
But she gave in eagerly to being softly petted and explored as he looked at every bruise and soreness and winced more than she.
"My dear, I'm so sorry!" he would cry at every mark and every groan until she dropped into a fit of giggles.
She wasn't that badly marked up, considering, and she was a healthy young girl who healed fast. Her breasts had fared pretty badly, and she had bruises on the backs of her shoulders and just above her buttocks and on one arm and a bruise on the outside of her thigh from they couldn't remember what. Her ass was sore where he'd forced his finger in, but she admitted she'd loved it at the time. They seemed to say "at the time" quite a lot.
And of course what she felt like between her legs she said was excruciating, but when he stroked her dark, hairy mound as he had the rest of her body to relax the muscles and soothe her aches she started panting and ended up with her legs around his neck crying his name into the pillow.
"You're right,' ' she admitted demurely after, her eyes still a little misty and a guileless, satisfied smile on her face. "It doesn't hurt that way, as long as you're gently. Anyhow, not very much. Anyhow, I wanted you to do it more than anything else in the world."
She was going to get dressed to make breakfast but he demanded that she stay nude and, to his surprise, she turned around and demanded the same from him. So they sat and had breakfast, or rather, they sat and toyed with their toast and sipped at their coffee, trying to hold time still, naked as jaybirds.
At last it was Ethan who said unhappily that she had a class soon and he too . . . had things to do. She slowly and sadly assented.
"You pick out what I'm going to wear today," she said. "That way, even if I don't remember anything, I'll be telling you I love you."
Her bikini undies were all so tiny in the drawer. She had some regular panties too, but he finally settled on green polka-dot bikinis that felt very soft and wouldn't chafe her sore parts.
Next her bra. "Yes," she said, "I usually ware a bra. I guess I was really vamping you a little bit last night. But now I'm glad I was." A soft free-form bra to hold her aching nipples.
And on through the rest, all the way down to white socks and green scarf and what handbag she should carry.
And they found themselves at the door in each other's arms.
"I'll love you till the day I die," he told her.
"I'll be yours long after that," she answered. "Give me a little time to recover and then fuck me again. I love you."
He stepped out into the hall and she closed the door. Then something terrible happened.
It was all over in an instant but, for a mind, an instant can be a long, torturous time. In her probing of his mind during their wild lovemaking, she had picked up more than she had been aware of, about how his thought control worked, and she had been much more in control than she had been aware of. Latently, she was just as strong, and her hold on him was almost a carbon copy of what he had done to her. She was only mimicking him, not even aware of her power. And so, when he broke contact, she automatically broke her hold as well, and with the power she had had over him, not just she, but both of them, were plunged into darkness.
In that endless instant of horror both minds sensed it and locked together in one last flash, crying out, "No!"
In that frozen instant Ethan basked torturously in her love nad was torn apart to know it would be gone forever, not even a fairy memory, not even a trace, but just an old man and a girl who were neighbors, each hiding and repressing care for the other.
He saw in her mind that she was better for their love, that the heat and flame he had given her had burned out the harsh memories she wanted to forget and left her clean and purified. She would love her sailor as a wife and an equal and not as a slave. It was better that way.
He had thought of letting her go anyway. He told himself he had thought of leaving her free and not taking her back. He told himself that it would never have worked, it would have destroyed them, it would have meant unhappiness as strong as their love; he told himself that and wept. Just the memory. All he had wanted was a memory of their brief moment together.
But now a pit opened up under that memory so deep and black it had no end.
"Lynn Soo!" his mind cried out and her thoughts flew to him and embraced him, weeping, bidding him good-bye; he wept with her, their whole time together flickering past like an electric arc. Then he shook his head and found himself standing in the hall. He walked downstairs to check the mail, muttering about pollution bad enough to make a man's eyes water.
Looking into the empty mailbox it hit him again that he had power over women and he tried to cackle evilly, but for some reason it didn't come out very well. This early in the day it's hard to even be evil.
He stomped heavily up the stairs. Lynn Soo recognized the grumpy footsteps and called out, "Hey, Eeethann!" and opened the door before he could get away.
Yet when he saw here there in the doorway, he couldn't help but feel very fond of her. When he saw she had tear tracks on her cheeks, he was upset as a mother hen, much to his disgust, but he was really very close to her, even admired her.
"Do I?" she exclaimed. "Why, you do, too! It must be this awful dust." And she ran inside to wipe off her face. She brought him back a tissue and laughed, "We're like two old maids watching a soap opera together!"
For her part, Lynn Soo found she no longer just thought of Ethan as a silly old man and a playmate, but admitted to herself that she was very fond of him, that he was a true friend. And as she looked at him wiping those strange tears from his face, she saw him also as a lonely man and a thought reappeared in her mind that had occurred to her a long time ago but which she had neglected to follow up something she could start rolling with a phone call right now.
"Listen!" she said abruptly, being girlishly coy so she could get started on it, "I'll have to get to class now. I want to see you later. I'm going to see you this afternoon when I get home."
"We'll see," he grumbled. "Right now you've got a letter in your mailbox."
"Oh!" she cried, clapping her hands, and she ran down and had to run all the way back up again because she had forgotten her key, calling to Ethan as he closed his door, "It's from him). It's one of those funny foreign envelopes!"
Ethan was going to have coffee but he felt like he'd already had it, though he couldn't remember when.
"Eethannn!" she called right through the walls, "He's on his way back. He was leaving when he mailed this a week ago!"
She came banging over on his door, ran in and kissed him on the cheek. "Hey," she bubbled, "I feel so good today!" Then she stopped, musing, "Though I'm sore as hell. Do you suppose I'm getting my period?"
Ethan was often shocked my modern girls. "My dear," he said gruffly, "I really wouldn't know."
"Anyhow," she said, "I feel all fresh and good and lightheaded. You don't like fresh, good, lightheaded girls, do you? Well, I'm off!" And she kissed him on the cheek and ran out again.
Ethan groaned, watching all that wasted energy. She should walk slowly, take better care of herself. She ran over to her apartment and made a phone call he couldn't hear. In a minute he heard her running down the stairs.
In a way he felt lighter and younger today, too. What was special about today? Nothing. Yet he had that feeling he got when he had been talking with Lynn Soo a while and let himself get involved with all that silly stuff; then she went barreling off, leaving him sort of empty and full at the same time. It was almost as though there was still some love left in his cranky old mind, God forbid, and he felt it now, but it wasn't all good hearts and flowers, and it didn't feel like it was going to go away.
Well, it was just that feeling that had given him the key to every woman in the world, so it couldn't be all bad. For things like that you get to suffer a little bit. But right now it just made him feel bad and he went out prowling to try and shake it off.
10
THAT day Ethan Bowles set thirty-seven women shuddering and sobbing with orgasms, set their bare bottoms wiggling in doorways, empty rooms and offices, behind bushes, in the kitchens of restaurants, behind the counters of department stores, in the vault of a bank, up against shelves of encyclopedias in libraries, stretched over cardboard boxes in stock rooms, wherever it didn't involve altering too many memories of other people who witnessed them.
Banks were good places to get women alone who might not show up unescorted anywhere else. But it was a sweet little teller in a cute top who, when she felt her loins fire up and looked at Ethan with immediate understanding, led him down the stairs to the cool, slick vault, bright and open, unhooking her belt and flipping the top over her head with one quick motion, stepping out of her yellow underpants like a nymph entering a quiet pool. She leaned her back against the wall of shiny lock-boxes and fucked him with quiet pleasure, completely unexpected to both of them. When they were done the shiny metal wall was left with the smear from her bare bottom.
But he could have met her anywhere. Banks were special for the ones like the lovely matron in white custom clothes and jewels that he saw walking out of a chauffeured car into another bank. There was nowhere else in his plane of existence that he could have run on to her.
He sent her down the hall to the restroom and then detoured her into an empty, vice-president's office. Just as Ethan was muffling her excited moans with his shoulder and her soft buttocks were beginning to bump and grind against the thick carpet, the vice-president walked in. He gave a surprised gasp, and then, eyes blank, shut the door and sat down to work at his desk, not hearing the delicate cries of ecstasy that grew faster and higher, not seeing the damp-stained pantyhose tossed across his desk, wafting women-scent in his face he didn't smell. Nor did he see the bare, soft legs that began to show so white above his desktop, rocking back and forth until they suddenly kicked straight, froze, drooped limply, then kicked again and again, to little shuddering moans.
But after it was over, Ethan found they had little to talk about. Her cunt had been hard and chafing and she seemed to think of Ethan as a new kind of product like an electric vibrator. It was interesting to watch her get back in the chauffeured car, knowing he had fucked her, but if she wasn't good and wasn't interesting and didn't give a shit, so what?
Some of the women gave harsh cries as they spent in ecstasy, some only gave a long, deep shudder. Some he took from the front, some from the back. Some he took with his cock, some with his mouth, some with his hand, and one in a train station, purely with his mind as she sat beside him and he wondered what sort of sounds she'd make. They were nice soft sounds as she was a gentle-looking woman on her way to visit her mother.
His most blatant conquest was in the library, prime hunting ground-like the park-for the middle strata of pretty girls. At this particular moment, he saw a bright blonde beauty so sullen she made his blood run cold, blue eyes and baby face with full cheeks and white-blonde long hair, but sullen beyond description. One handsome youth approached her and she sent him packing with such loathing that if he'd looked back once as he was fleeing, he might have turned into a pillar of salt.
Somehow this enraged Ethan, the idea that she made herself so bright and then acted so cruel, and without thinking about it he jerked her from her seat and lay her across the empty table right in the middle of the silent library reading-room, white thighs kicking her skirt up onto her pale-blue panties before it even occurred to Ethan how many other minds he was going to have to blank.
In a moment her skirt was shoved up past her bulging underpants and her sweater was up to her neck as she struggled silently with Ethan, blushing bright pink all down her body as he ripped her clothes off, taking the thin panties off her mousy brown triangle and kissing her hard on her dry cunt as she arched up. In a moment she gave down her unhidable sign of arousal and gave in with a moan, people at the tables all around her going on with their reading, one little part of the room blanked out from them, although the hot, panting little vamp on her back with her knees up didn't know they couldn't see her.
It was a terrific strain for Ethan too, holding them all off. He was in pain before he was through and she had wrapped her white, treasured legs around his neck and babbled her surrender.
A black girl, black as coal, when she felt her black dress come up over her head and her white lace panties come off her exquisite bottom, cried out to God, while a slim girl as white as ivory, her dirty black bikinis falling around her ankles and her thighs already opening with her passion, cried out to the devil. She said later she was a witch.
But most were just nice, good-looking girls who sobbed and shivered to feel their suddenly bared undies slipping down their hips and brushing through their tender pubic hair, groaned to feel themselves giving in to passionate reactions, crying out when they were penetrated, arching and crying out in shuddering climax and that was that and it was on to the next one.
He could just excite them a little and make them do all the mental work so they would have a chance to struggle. "Stop! What are you doing? Oh! Oh! No, not my undies! Oh! Uh! Ahh . . . yes, that feels good. Oh yes. Yesss.. . oh, my nipples have never been this hard.. . . Oh! What are you doing? Not down there! Those are my privates! Please! . . . Ohhh! All right. That feels nice. Yes, gently, right along the front.. . . Oh no! NO, please! Just rub me, don't! Please! No! NO! Keep out of my.. . UHHH!! ! OH, my GOD! OH! AH! OH! AH! UHH! UHHHH!! ! UHHHhhhhhh . . . ! Ahhhhh! Ohhhhh! . . . Darling! . . . Oh! OH! Not again! UH! UHHH!! ! "
That part was interesting because it was slow and he got to talk to people. Somehow, going slowly like that, a woman will almost always, when she loses her inhibitions, start asking what she's like in comparison to other women, particularly women from their middle twenties on. Girls rarely asked, but women immediately wanted to know how you liked their underclothes, what you thought of their bodies, why you picked them, what it was that attracted you, did other women do this or say that. Ethan usually told them they were the very best, even if they weren't.
But he didn't really have time for all that talk most of the time. Usually he did all the mental work and they did the physical work and it came out quick like, "I'm burning! Oh, God! My panties! My panties! UH! OH! OH, GOD! Please! Please! Please! AHH! AHH!! I'M DYING!! ! ! " And the rest would be wiggling, shivering gibberish.
It was a pattern. Young girls still chunky with baby fat, budding breasts taut and far apart on their chests, outgrown panties stuffed tight with downy clear cunts, squealed like little animals and had high, shivering orgasms. Older women, bodies kept supple with exercises, groaned with deep and burning passion and were sometimes nice to talk to afterwards.
Haughty college girls with their neat panties down, became wild and uncontrolled when they felt him penetrating their deep, hot vaginas; it was like working a finger into thick, hot dough, but their faces were ugly in passion. Friendly college girls were joyful as they felt their inhibitions falling away with their new bellbottoms, but overly-happy girls tended to get loudly weepy and hysterical.
Find a pretty young girl just out of school, lonely, struggling to get a foothold in the world, and when she gives herself she makes you feel like a king. But if she's got a beau, after she stops shuddering from her orgasm, she can take you or leave you.
The more you like a person, the better sex is with that person, even if you have complete power over all the women in the world. But if you hate someone, fucking them is exciting, although you get to hating them less when you can fuck them, and then it starts to get dull.
Love is probably a good thing to have with someone before fucking them, but Ethan didn't know. He didn't have anyone he loved that he could fuck. Lynn Soo sometimes came to mind when he thought of love, but he never considered doing anything further to her. She was his friend. But he felt very close afterwards with some of the women he took, and it seemed that if you felt close before you started, really that close and not just making something up or tying up your feelings on wishes and hopes instead of the real thing, then it seemed logical that it should be pretty good.
Oh, there were other things, but it all tended to blur together. All of it blurred together. With an hour off for lunch and a couple of coffee breaks, that was three women an hour for twelve straight hours. That's not just a lot of women. That's a lot of work.
Three women an hour struggling, emotions highly keyed, caught in the most terrible trap of their lives, human beings struggling with unbeatable odds, straining and begging for him to stop; then as the strong force took over, strong enough to crush all their cultural and emotional upbringing, giving in to tremendous emotions in another direction.
If this had happened under normal circumstances, it would have been a lifetime traumatic experience, good or bad depending on the woman and what happened later. If they lived happily ever after, a wife might chuckle at her downfall for many years. If not, it could be a woman's memory of her lost youth, a melancholy memory, a sexual yardstick, perhaps just a strong memory, perhaps a whole life-directing psychosis.
These women were feeling strong emotions, but they didn't remember it afterwards. Only Ethan remembered. To the women nothing was left but a feeling of lightness, relief, a good feeling, as if you haven't gotten any sleep for a long time and finally, as you are falling asleep, you feel all your problems magnified and all of life is one unbearable scream; it makes you shake and tremble on the edge of tears, waves of agony pouring out of you, cleansing you. Then in the morning you feel new, wrung out, good, not even remembering the night. That's how the women felt.
But Ethan didn't feel that way. He rode through every woman's trauma and he carried it with him afterwards. He couldn't help but absorb some of the strain and some of the trauma as it boiled out, much like a psychiatrist begins to absorb too much of his patients' problems, and he isn't even plugged into their minds like Ethan was.
But Ethan was searching for something he. didn't know he'd lost. That something drove him on for that day and the next and the next.
Ethan was fighting within himself. With no other factors involved, he might have chosen to give up the power, or anyhow let up a little on that morning he found himself standing in the hall with tears in his eyes. Had he followed instinct, which is a very useful thing, he might even have know how to go about satisfying that bothersome feeling. But he had the cultural heritage of a dirty old man to live up to and he wasn't about to sit back and not use his power on every available woman he could find.
This one had a high dome of a forehead, button nose, big blue eyes, neat shoulder-length hair, black boots, sheer stockings and, when he pulled her blue corduroy dress up, she snapped at him like a little animal. Up over bare thighs and pink lace panties, "Let go of me!" His arm around her bare waist, dress bunched up high. She had a broad, flat ass but just at the last moment it peaked cutely, panties making a quick, round dive and then lifting her cheeks from below.
"What are you doing? Jesus, I'm dizzy.. . . Ohh!" He yanked the front of her pink panties down to her pouting little-girl pubes, "Oh no! No!" Forcing a powerful thought into her mind and a long finger up through her nutmeg vitals to knock her out, "UHHHHH!! ! " And down she went, mind spinning, as he undid her covers.
There was something special driving Ethan on, and no matter how he looked, he could neither find it nor shake it off.
In a bright electric-pink velour mini-dress and bright electric-purple tights, this one was short but compact, nice, her body shaping her dress well. Her face was round, a bright magic face you would remember if it passed-even more than the bright colors. She was dizzy before he even reached her, swooning across cardboard boxes in a nearby storeroom, skirt up over her purple fanny, but the skirt was so short anyhow that she didn't look any different than she did on the street.
With her dress and bra off she began to take on a different look; the purple tights too bright, the rest of her quieter, plainer. With the tights down and her legs apart she was one of those he honored with his full too, and she repaid the honor sweetly and desperately. She was soft and pliant, perhaps a little heavy with all her bright clothes off, but she made him feel good and she came hard several times, kissing his lips as she was spending. But when it was over and he set her free, he tried approaching her on the street and she wouldn't take him seriously.
This one, from a distance, looked like a little girl in her top made of whatever dungarees are made of, with stringy brown hair and big brown glasses. He was going to throw her back as too small, but just for the record he casually pulled her top up, finding white cotton panties pressed against very round, full hips and ass.
She stood silently beside his old, squatting figure as he reached all the way up to her small belly button to get a hold of her elastic waistband, but as he peeled down the little-girl cotton undies, she groaned like a woman. She panted and undulated her hips slightly as she felt him toying with her hairless, bare slit, and as he worked up between those tight lips, she shoved down and spitted herself on his finger, moaning with big-girl passion as he sunk up deep-where at least one of her playmates had already tread.
This one was in her middle twenties, puffed hair dyed bright silver, dressed in red and black. In the back room of the hamburger stand, blanking the cook's mind, Ethan rolled the black tights off her svelte hips. He found bright-red bikini briefs, soft and slick, and he never even bothered to pull them down, just stroked their hills gently a few times and she gave a little choked sob and came, soaking herself. Her lips tasted of fresh coffee and hamburgers with ketchup.
This one was a clerk at a tie counter in a department store. Ethan went around behind the counter and sat on the floor, blocked off from most viewers by the wooden racks of ties, blocked off from the rest by his mind. He ate a sandwich looking up her long, very shapely legs where they were white above her stockings, watching her pale white panties crease and cling to the globes of her ass when she moved. It was a nice time, his most relaxed of the day, but after he had wiped his mouth on his jacket sleeve and reached up lazily at last to those big curves and silky underpants and her knees gave way and she fell into his arms where he could get his hands on her big, high breasts, she cried, wept rivers, never once stopped crying. She came and begged him to keep going, and came again, but she cried so hard he never knew why. Afterwards she had to get right back to work selling ties.
This one was a very noticeable woman, a tall secretary with high, teased blonde hair and an ass that shoved her skirt out to an alarming degree and breasts that pointed her summer blouse far ahead of her. He followed her into an office building and was the only passenger in the elevator with her. She had taken a late lunch and, as soon as the doors closed, had her skirt up, but she was wearing a tight, thick panty-girdle. He sighed and was going to set her free when she said quietly in a slightly high, nasal voice, "Don't go."
They got off at her floor and she took him into her empty office. The only words she said were, "Please don't muss my hair."
With the girdle off and the padded bra undone, her brown triangle a flat shadow below her clean white tummy, she was duller than before, but she was a good, simple girl and afterwards she was grateful, actually picking a sheaf of paper off the desk and fanning her cunt, which made them both laugh.
Ethan stopped by his apartment briefly to have dinner and Lynn Soo caught him. She had the ears of a cat when she wanted to, and when she wanted to catch him, there was no way around it. She was going to have a bunch of people over to celebrate her sailor's passing of the halfway point. Would Ethan join them? It would be in a few days.
He hemmed and hawed and as usual there was no way out. Besides, he found he got more satisfaction out of talking to Lynn Soo than in being the plague of the city all day. It was getting very much like work.
This one was an exquisite goddess in a golden dress and golden Bahaman tan and diaphanous undies-who had the clap.
This one was a Girl Scout he pulled out of the park from sheer perversity who had a lot of sewn-on badges-and the clap.
These were the charming, lithe, long-haired girls, perhaps ten or fifteen or so out of thirty or so he had stopped, with their laughing eyes and their packs and peace signs and homemade dresses and Army fatigues-and the clap.
These were all in all the maybe twenty-five, maybe thirty-five, plain old average pretty girls he pulled off the streets and parks and offices for a sleek leg or a pert walk or a pretty face or enticing clothes who all, at one stage of passion or another-usually just as he started stretching their undies-admitted they had the clap. The suspected some, perhaps many, would never have told him except for the battering demand of his mind forcing them to admit it.
This one was a dark-eyed student who leaned back against a wall and spread her knees, candy-striped little briefs limp around her ankles, and came with her hands covering her face, never touching Ethan. And that was that.
This one lay across a car rental counter while Ethan felt her up from behind, bare buttocks squeezing and squirming out of her red uniform, coming in high, hiccupping giggles, and that was that.
This one wore pants so tight you could see the stitching in her panties and when she was unzipped, her white briefs bulged out voluptuously, but she came very averagely and that was that.
This one was just a pretty girl with a swinging walk and a bouncing fringe handbag, but backed into a corner with her skirt up, pink bikinis with ivy prints on the edges, stretched down to reveal her curly brown mound, she stopped swinging and went so rigid her teeth rattled and she jerked up and down harshly and that was that.
This one had a terrible scar on her big thigh and came with a groan, smelling of garlic, and that was that.
This one was dressed in green with black lace bikinis under her black tights and welcomed him with open arms and came with a groan and a shudder and then she had no more use for him and that was that.
This one was dressed in brown with white underpants that smelled of mint and breasts that smelled of new wool and she came hard several times, groaning and whimpering and begging for more, and when she had more she was satisfied and they parted friends and that was that.
This one was very sexy and in her skimpy undies she was even sexier and when she was bare and hot with passion she was even sexier and Ethan fucked her and they both liked it and they parted never to see each other again and that was that.
This one struggled a little and then lay on her back and rubbed her big breasts through her pink sweater as she came, Ethan's hand bulging in the crotch of her white briefs, and she said she liked it and that was that.
This one said sex wasn't that important to her and he took down her underpants and felt her until she came with a gasping little shudder and she said it just wasn't that important to her and that was that.
This one was standing in front of him on a crowded bus and he slipped a hand up under her mini-skirt. She had on low-slung briefs that he unobtrusively slid down over the jars of her buttocks so he could reach between her warm thighs to her wet, hairy slit and just rest a finger up her cunt, and they rode like that for ten blocks, she having a shiver or two of an orgasm every block. She got off with him and said she had to be fucked and he did and they parted and that was that.
This one was short and cute and struggled until she was bare and then came with her legs apart and that was that.
This one wore sexy clothes but had a body stocking on under them and had to work hard to get it all off and then she came with her legs apart and that was that.
This one had on a pair of panties that had hearts on them that said "Bill loves Carmen" and she came easily with her legs apart and that was that.
This one struggled until he kissed her and she kissed him back and he touched the crotch of her underpants and she came and that was that.
This one laughed because she wore no underwear and came on his hand and wanted his cock but with her clothes off she wasn't that good-looking and that was that.
This one was young and pretty and pleaded that she was faithful to her husband, but she was already too far gone and had to have it. She wept when he cupped her hard nipples and when he worked her fresh, lacy undies over her stunningly erect bottom, she on her knees, sobbing as she took it dog-fashion until she came so hard it knocked her unconscious, but then she left in silence and rejoiced as the memory snapped from her mind, and that was that.
This one wore a red sash and came with her legs apart, and that was that.
This one was South American and spoke no English and had heavy black pubic hair that stretched up her belly and down her thighs and she came like hiccups, with her legs tight together, and that was that.
This one came hard but he couldn't remember a thing about her the minute she was gone and that was that.
This one had nothing special about her and that was that.
This one was a real blonde even with her slacks off and her underpants down. Her struggles stopped once she was skewered like a pig, brassiere heaving with her growing excitement, and Ethan sat between her spread legs watching his finger sink in and out of that pink fold so completely bared beneath her thin blonde hairs but there wasn't anything to see. He spread the fleshy lips of her cunt and she was a very bright pink inside and he found her clitoris and soon his finger began coming out frothy white and she moaned-on the edge of orgasm-and he held her there a moment and worked a little finger into the entrance of her anus and she came and knocked herself out and that was that.
This one was a little girl with just the beginnings of her breasts and pubic hair and she came in quick little jerks and that was that.
This one was too bony under her clothes though she looked very good in her bikini briefs and that was that.
This one was flat and plain with her clothes off and that was that.
This one had unthinkably thin, tiny legs that didn't , show at all until her blue jeans were pulled down and, though she had interesting underpants, even her mons was more bone than flesh and that was that.
This one had a big belly when her dress was up and came like a horse and that was that.
Remember, these are only a few of the ones Ethan selected for their unusual beauty and attractiveness. He considered and rejected without ever contacting perhaps eight or ten for every one he caught, and of those he caught, he threw another half back. Still there were thirty-seven the first day and forty-nine the second and fifty-three the third, and it went on like that.
This one was a full-bodied beauty who moaned and shuddered and wiggled into a frenzy kneeling on his finger and lost control so completely she pissed a little when she came, urine spurting hot over his finger and streaking in speeding drops down her dream-like shapely legs, and that was that.
This one was ugly as sin, so ugly she caught his attention as strongly as a beautiful girl and she came on her back with her legs apart and that was that.
This one had attracted him enough to fuck and her it was okay but there was nothing memorable about her. She was an unusually healthy-looking West Coast sort of pretty girl and that was that.
This one had pink bikinis on under a pink dress and he fucked her because he was horny but she spread-eagled herself under him by holding onto handfuls of grass and kept her head up and back and never knew he existed, though they both came, she much more than he, and that was that.
This one had looked haughtily from a distance but turned out to be just a friendly, pretty girl with other things on her mind and that took some of the thrill away, as Ethan was all geared up for torture. She hardly even struggled and was one of those who wanted to know everything he thought about her, and that was that.
This one was haughty and she wore imported black lace panties and she struggled and surrendered and came with her legs apart and forgot him as soon as he broke the connection between them and that was that.
About half of the women he finally decided to bring to him he rejected because of the way they looked up close or smelled up close or because they were sick or had their periods or he didn't like their voices or they had to be somewhere immediately or they were walking with someone who was coming up the hill looking for them right now. He rejected more immediately after fucking, unless he had an urge to torture someone and found the right girl, and he rejected more and more as time went on, or at least picked them in stranger, more random and spastic a manner.
This one was a beautiful woman, slim and blonde, with a stunning face, and he made her kneel in only her panties and suck his cock, but it was nothing new to her and it was too soon for him, and finally he let her lie back on the rug of the empty office, pulling her undies eagerly down her slim hips, spending in bliss several times, and that was that.
This one was just a woman and she came hard and that was that.
This one had big sunglasses and was a children's book editor and had a firm woman's body and came with her op-art panties caught around her ankles and that was that.
This one was a computer programmer and had yellow bikini panties that said "Property of IBM" which was a joke and she came with small shudders and that was that.
This one was an advertising copy-writer and she came hysterically and that was that.
This one was a secretary who sobbed when her blue bikini briefs brushed down across her pubes and that was that.
This one was a secretary who sobbed as her soft white panties brushed down her pubes and that was that.
This one was a secretary who sobbed and struggled softly when her pink undies were jerked down and that was that.
This one was something or other that had to do with the government and she came and that was that.
This one was a model and she came on her back with her legs apart and that was that.
This one was a model and it was hard to get all her clothes off and she came and that was that.
This one was just a woman and she came hard and that was that.
This one was just a woman and she struggled a little like the rest of them and then she gave in and came hard and that was that.
This one was a sorority girl in a brown sweater, sorority letters and little gold heart hanging from her neck, pleated skirt with a gold chain around one pocket, perfect, ridgeless sheer stockings, stylish but subtle shoes, full pouting face, cold face, circled by hair curled every night, and a nice, solid little body hidden away like toilet paper.
He brought her to him and reached up her leg and she gasped and said, "What are you doing?" Sometimes they weren't even aware they'd come into his clutches until he actually felt them up. His hand reached the end of stocking and the beginning of soft, cool flesh. The thoughts clamped down on her so she couldn't struggle, couldn't remember to call for help, and she said, for some reason, "I don't want anything from the likes of you!"
"I don't want anything from the likes of you," she said, as if she wasn't under his control and it was the bad old days.
He shoved her skirt up, chain jangling. Her panties were straining and bulging on one of those big pubic mounds and fleshy-lipped cunts that can hypnotize you, little circlets of pubic hair peering around the elastic at the base of her thighs.
He squeezed that bulging nylon crotch and she was tender and groaned, her breath sucked in hard, but that was it. As much as he squeezed and rubbed her soft, vital pubes, she would groan and he squeezed, her eyes a little glazed, her breath sharp, but he couldn't build anything up in her.
He unhooked her stockings and then ignored her crotch completely, leaving her sensitive thighs wanting more as he stood up with a groan, for he'd hardly moved that day except to fuck one cute bare girl, and he reached up under her sweater, across her broad, hard belly and up under her bra. He squeezed and coaxed her nipples and too many boys had coaxed them not half so well and she couldn't ignore the familiar throb and soon her breathing grew fuller and she leaned against him.
But as she leaned against him he yanked her to the ground, throwing her on her back and ripping her panties off her hairy cunt. He shoved the dark lips apart so her pink, tender parts showed like raw meat surrounded by brown spinach and he sucked hard, moving his tongue between her lips on the most sensitive parts and thought fire into her fleshy loins. She groaned, and this time raised her knees; in a moment she was panting hard and undulating slow and tense as though she were fucking some big prick.
With that he stopped and left her moaning; he pulled her sweater over her head and undid her full brassiere, leaving her sorority chain between her big tits, tips now dark and erect. He squeezed her breasts and she began to cry, moans overwhelming the tears as her big tits flooded her with the excitement of ten fucks. Her eyes pleaded and she gave in peacefully and said, breathy, "All right. You can make love to me."
"What was that?" he asked, squeezing her breasts and stroking the lips of her cunt.
"Please," she said, but that wasn't it. "Please," she cried, "do it to me," and still she burned and she knew what he wanted to hear and she had to whisper, "Fuck me.
"What?" he asked, and turned her fires, now under his control, up high.
"Fuck me!" she cried out hoarsely. "Please! My pussy! My cunt! Fuck your dick in my cunt! Please! Oh, please!"
But it wasn't going to be that easy for her. He moved down to her cunt, hot and wet and salty now, and sucked her until she wiggled and moaned and begged piteously and then, in one slick motion he turned around so he was sucking her from the top down and he reached back and undid his baggy trousers up above her face.
"No!" she cried, "No, not that!" But already the pants had slipped down and she closed her eyes with the image of his rampant prick blazing into her mind.
Still he sucked her and her full legs kicked and heaved and she wept as the heat crept higher and her knees rifted higher until she, in a sudden burst of maddening passion, lifted her women's legs and wrapped them around his neck and she was panting as he began to play his finger along the crack of her big ass.
She stopped crying and moaned with passion and something small brushed his pecker a hand. She began to feel him as he looked down into her hot, excited cunt that longingly moved up and down, her ass his to toy with as she felt up his cock and balls and at last, covered with sweat and tears, her most private parts as playthings for an old stranger, her firm body going mad, having done all the things she'd sworn she'd never do. She pulled his hips down to her and sucked him greedily and the lips of her cunt flared pink and she was hot as a firecracker with no help, but he still sank a finger into her firm, washed, sorority bottom and two fingers that went "swish" as they drove deep and hard into the soft, hot mire of her cunt.
She moaned loud and hard as the spending began in that wet, hairy slit and went up her backbone like a whip, sobbing and moaning with his prick forcing her small mouth wide and she sucked and moaned like a vibrator. He shot off into her mouth, she arched hard and high and fainted.
Even then he hadn't beaten her and she was sullen and snotty from the minute she came to; he was glad to see her go. She looked like all the rest and he didn't get much pleasure from it and that was that.
This one was just a woman and he couldn't remember anything special about her. She had yellow underpants and a big vaccination mark on her buttocks. She struggled and then she surrendered and then she came and that was that.
ll
BUT this one was a blonde he had pulled over spitefully from across the park, but when the blonde got there, it was a boy and not a girl. But a beautiful boy, with a sleek and noble face more beautiful really than most of the women that day, so he called him over, curious, getting up stiffly.
The boy wore a bright-colored, frilled shirt and blue bellbottoms, sleek and mod. Ethan hesitantly touched the shirt, unbuttoning it, pushing it open. He had a good strong chest for one so sleek, and Ethan let his hand stroke it, glad for the change. The boy's nipples hardened like a girl's, though they were much smaller, but he only began to react as Ethan moved down his chest, nearing his low belt in one of the valleys of the boy's hip.
"So you feel that, eh?" chuckled Ethan as the boy's breath began to change, and he tugged at the boy's belt buckle while burning his mind with images and feelings.
The big buckle finally came free and with a "pop" the snap of his pants was undone. The boy spoke for the first time, smooth and passionate, whispering, "No!" When he felt his pants loosening, changing to "Ohhh! . . . "
As Ethan pulled his zipper down right along the line of his erect organ, the boy moaned and blushed, breathing hard as he felt Ethan working the tight bellbottoms over his tight ass and off his small hip-hugging underpants.
"Oh, no!" he moaned meekly, but there was no fight in it. He just didn't have the experience at resisting that a woman gets, and before his bellbottoms reached his ankles he had surrendered.
Ethan began to work the cotton underpants down his hips, felling the boy's ass with surprise; he had gotten so used to the low, soft pears of women's buttocks. The boy curved differently, but in some ways was shapelier than a woman the way it stuck out so high and tight and hard.
"Oh!" the boy gasped as the underpants slipped over the cheeks of his ass and caught tight in front at the root of a rock-hard projection you don't have to bother with when you strip a woman.
Ethan reached over to free the underpants and brushed soft blond pubic hair. The boy cried out, his lips pursed, his eyes pleading. If Ethan had not already been inside his mind, controlling some of his reactions, the boy would have come right then.
But he was controlled and passion spun his mind and misted his deep eyes as Ethan lifted the elastic far out to the end of the white, aching rod; the boy felt his underpants pull off his trembling balls and fall to his ankles and he began to pant.
Ethan touched his firm thigh and he moaned in anticipation like a hot woman, and Ethan did not make him wait. He ran his hand straight up the boy's leg to his soft, golden-fleeced sac, and his eyes turned up and his lips begged and he spread his thighs helplessly, beginning to wiggle slightly as Ethan cupped his tender treasures.
"Ohhhh!" he whispered. "Yes! Please!"
Ethan chuckled. "All right," he said. "Sometimes the fun is in the waiting, but if you insist.. . . " And he lowered the balls gently until they swung again and ran his finger through the golden snow to the base of the boy's throbbing penis.
"Please!" he whispered, "Yes! Oh yes! Please!" as the leathery old finger slid gently up the velvet rod. The boy began to wiggle his pelvis slowly, groaning, panting, quickly losing his head, legs caught in his pants and underpants, chaining his ankles together softly as nature took the boy and forced his knees apart and his buttocks to shove his hips forward, his fine smooth prick trying to repoh higher and higher, trying to sniff the air as Ethan's finger climbed the young, blazing cock until he reached the peak.
The boy was panting and out of control now, whispering, begging, gasping when Ethan touched an excruciatingly tender spot, his knees far apart, his back arched, his chest and stomach tight, and the old man put his whole hand around the flaming cock and shook it gently. With a sob, the boy's tight buttocks shoved his cock up so far and hard, it slid through Ethan's hand clear to its golden-fogged base. The boy twisted in ecstasy, and with a violent shudder he came, spurting in an arc into the clearing, frozen, then jerking hard, his tender spending penis slipping up and down in Ethan's hand, and with another sobbing moan of ecstasy he spurted again and sank to his knees, still cradled in Ethan's hand, face supple and spent.
There was a gasp from behind him and a blonde girl, the boy's age and with his same special features, rushed into the clearing and knelt beside her brother, crying, "Domi! Domi! What have they done to you?" Then she stopped stock-still, eyes riveted to his fading penis.
She gasped again, this time more deeply, tinged with passion, as Ethan's mind caught her and she felt the heat and excitement boil up from her panties.
"Domi," she said softly to her brother, her hand calming him on his shoulder, "Don't be embarrassed, He's some kind of wizard. He has me now in the same spell he had you."
Her brother jerked to his feet in fury, but even before Ethan could stop him, her hand on his shoulder calmed him, and her finger caressed his explosive lips to shush him. She said, "It's all right. It's not so bad, is it? I just don't want you to be ashamed of me, Domi. It feels so good, what he's doing to me. You know that. I'm not ashamed of you. I think you're wonderful and I wish I could have been here to watch. Really. Please, don't be worried. Don't be ashamed of me! Tell me . . . Ohh! . . . Tell me it's all right!"
Domi winced, but nodded, whispering, "Yes."
She smiled at him and turned to Ethan, shoulders thrown back, face already a little flushed, and said, "Onward, wizard! Do your worst!"
Ethan could not suppress a chuckle, but he also threw sparks across the glimmering bond that made her catch her breath and whirl around facing her bare brother, only a few inches away. Of her own accord her eyes crept over and up between his legs.
"Dominique!" he cried, unable to cover himself.
"Shhh," she said softly. "Please let me look. You're very beautiful, Domi. Please don't be embarrassed. I sometimes wonder what you look like. He's got me and he might make me do some things, but I'm a pretty girl, Domi. Won't you enjoy seeing me, too?"
She was obviously pretty in her soft-blue sweater and light-blue skirt and her blue eyes, her soft curves around her hips and breasts and neck and legs and arms. She had an aura of softness, and yet had his strange, deep face, hers a little softer, with a slightly different nose, smaller lips, but the face with the same knowledge, same thought, same sculptured divinity.
"Don't you sometimes wonder what I look like?" she asked, and Ethan began to pull her sweater up. He even took her sweater up slowly. She was going to be one excited little girl before the hour was up. She was panting a little already, her brother's eyes locked on her as more of her bare tummy appeared and then her bra.
Her breasts were fine and full, bulging only slightly from her high blue bra. She had nice shoulders, a nice back, as Ethan ran his finger down her back, around, around, feeling, kneading, down, and he couldn't stop. He had wanted to savor her slowly but, with a quick jerk, he pulled up the back of her short blue skirt and saw her little pear-shaped, very female bottom, clothed not in blue for her final hiding place, but a pair of thin white undies that just barely covered her firm globes.
And looking at her fine, round bottom he knew what Domi didn't know, that when she was panting with excitement and aching to be satisfied and her skirt fell to the ground and she was left in her skimpy bikini, she was going to be irresistible to anyone, particularly her brother whom she had so much affection for. And shaking with excitement, which she shared partly because she too knew what was going to happen, Ethan couldn't keep his hands off those feminine, low-slung globes.
He squeezed and felt her up under her skirt and she gasped and gave her first little moan; her bra heaved a little and she whispered to her worried brother, "It's all right, Domi! Oh! Ohhh! He's just feeling my fanny.. . . Ohhh! Domi! It feels so good I'm losing my head. He's going to be able to make me do a lot of things. I love you, Domi! Ohhhh! Ah! Please don't be embarrassed at me, Domi!"
"Dominique!" he told her. "You are my sister and you are beautiful and I will love you no matter what and you'll be beautiful doing anything!"
The kid set her on fire as much as Ethan, but she was still Ethan's for a while. He came back up while she glowed in her brother's praise and slipped around to her navel, causing her to straighten up, then up across her tummy and her chest, moving around her straining bra like an animal sniffing some new scent, and then down in.
"Oh, Domi, it starts now," she whispered. "When they get inside my bra I start to feel things, and this is a hundred times that!"
And he got inside where she was soft as silk, warm and full; she moaned deep this time, from down inside her, and she moaned pulled her bare shoulders back and shoved her soft breasts hard into his hands, their tips aching and itching until he rubbed gently and her nipples sprang up hard, making her groan again.
"Oh, Domi, I feel it now! Ohhhh! Ohhhh! It's flowing through me like I was drunk. It's never been like this!"
"You've felt it before?" he whispered.
"Yesss, oh! Ohh! Yes, my sweet Domi, a few boys have . . . oh, sometimes after dates boys will rub my breasts. Oh, and a few have reached inside my bra and it's nice, Domi, I get.. . hard, and all weak and kittenish."
"Who?" he asked softly.
"Oh! Ahhh! Oh, Domi, I'm getting all sexy! Do you love me, Domi? Love can't see shame."
"I love you," he told her.
"Freddy did it to me first. Remember that big cookout on the island? I went down the beach with Freddy and he kissed me a lot and I was just in my bathing suit and his hand slipped in so easily. It was nice."
"Who else?"
"Jim. Enrika. Terrance. Oh! Ah! I think that's all. Why do you want to.. . . ? Ohh!"
Ethan undid her bra and her fine breasts were set free. He caught her engorged nipples out where her brother could see what was being done to his beautiful sister to cause her moaning, and she helplessly obeyed the fire that leapt through her stiff points.
"Who has seen you like this?"
She told him all three again. Her eyes were glazing and her head was beginning to spin. She didn't know how many times or where. She was panting, getting sexy, her other lovers were fading from her the hotter she got.
"Please, Domi! There's just us now!" she said, talking faster and deeper now. "Jim was the first. He was mature, persistent. You didn't like him. Your taste is better than mine. But one time we stopped off on the way home and I'd had some champagne and I felt sexy that day anyhow and he got my nipples up except it was stronger than usual and I guess I showed it. I had on this little mini-skirt, my green one, it's so high; and all of a sudden he just reached down and rubbed me down there and he knew what he was doing and I just lost my head. It hurt at first but it felt better later, and I felt very grown up.. . . Ahh!
"It's just us, Domi. I can't remember the others. It's just us. The wizard won't remember us. We're nothing to him and he's nothing at all."
She was panting hard, undulating slowly inside the skirt.
"He's not even here," she panted and Ethan ran his finger down from her breasts, down her midriff and tummy, picking up speed, flying over her skirt and disappearing up under it in a flash; half a second later she cried out, deep and long, frozen and glazed, whispering her brother's name.
It was hopeless. Ethan wasn't even involved in this. She was a sensible sensualist lapping up everything he could throw at her and, to top it off, she was thanking her brother for the whole show.
She had a soft, comforting pussy to hold, particularly because the hold electrified her, but he was feeling very left out. He rubbed and felt her a little under her skirt, making her groan and wiggle and sweat a little. Her brother's eyes were riveted to that blue skirt, and very slowly and dramatically, he pulled up her skirt for the boy until there it was, his sister's flaming cunt, little bikini undies clinging wet and sticky, all framed and molded in
Ethan's wrinkled hand. The boy's prick revived like the charge of the light brigade.
"You're so big!" she managed to whisper between gasps, as Ethan unbuttoned the back of her skirt and ran the zipper down her buttocks. The skirt dropped away and he shoved her right up to the boy with her irresistible, helplessly undulating mound an inch away from his erect cock and with one last mournful squeeze of her lovely bottom, the great wizard repaired to his comfortable sitting spot to watch the youngsters go at it.
For a while it looked like morality might actually win out after all and she'd be left with a great universal need and only the old Wiz left to satisfy it, but with the likes of her around, morality doesn't stand a chance.
"Domi, he had both of us now! Domi, I'm so hot I'm like an animal. Domi, I love you! I love you! Please, it's all right, we can't help it!"
Her brother tried to close his eyes but he couldn't look away from her beauty.
"Domi, please, I love you, it's all right! I can't stand much more of this! Domi, please, touch me, please, Domi, hold me! I want to touch you, Domi, but I'm afraid.. . . Uh! Domi, help me, love me! Ahh! Ahh! Uhhh!"
Her blue eyes were pleading, and she was ringed with sweat, bubbles of sweat appearing around her breasts and navel.
"Domi, please, I can't stand it!"
He reached out to touch her but the touch built up in speed and intensity the closer he came to her fine body until, instead of touching her shoulders, they were clasped in each other's arms, sobbing and moaning, tongues in each other's mouths, her woman's round bottom wiggling and straining inside the white bikini panties as she tried to shove herself right inside him.
She was still getting hotter and hotter and her brother was still tense and shaking, so the old wizard made another spell of magic just by kneeling down behind her and lowering her skimpy undies down over her bottom, watching her golden cunt appear as he pulled the nylon nothing down her legs as she rose up on tiptoes to cover her brother's face with kisses.
Domi's rod was standing almost vertical between her legs and as she came down a fraction of an inch, it nuzzled that sweet golden slit and she cried out in joy. Ethan could swear even her cunt kissed his prick with love and rejoicing, beads of moisture bursting out on her golden down; then she came off her tiptoes and the long, smooth cock slipped into her beautiful cunt as easily as a tongue slips between your lips and she groaned like she was dying, burying her face in his shoulder and whispering to him between groans.
"Ohh! I love you, Domi! I love you so much! Uhh!
Uhhhh! It's so deep.. . .OH, GOD! I'm yours! I love you!
I love you!" And his rod slipped easily into her golden sopping cunt until their golden fleece met and squeezed together and he pressed his flat crotch against her soft mound and she pressed against him, panting and whimpering.
They sank to the grass and he pumped it into her like an expert as she squirmed and shoved her sleek hips up to him faster and faster, crying his name desperately now and not even Ethan could hold them back. Her brother bucked hard and she arched up and they came like Roman candles, again and again, crying out, bucking and arching, lowering, bucking and arching, crying, "Uhh! UH! UHHHHhhhahhh!! " Sinking down, her pretty legs sprawled wide, she mumbled a little love words in his ear and he, weeping, whispered them back.
"This is stupid," said Ethan, his grubby cheek resting disgustedly on his grubby palm surveying the two spent, beatific youngsters who lay swooning naked and spread-eagled on the grass. "They got twice the fun out of it that I did. Three times the fun. Six times the fun. I've been working too hard."
"Dooommiii!! " she moaned. "I love you so!" She rolled over and put her head on his stomach, admiring his crotch with misty, adoring eyes. "It's never been like that with anyone!"
That's what got Ethan. He could give a woman the greatest fuck she'd have in a lifetime, in five lifetimes, and she could go completely ape over it, but afterwards it was thank you very much, that felt very good," and then it was just back to business.
Yet this little blonde bombshell who, compared to some, had hardly been fucked at all, was adoring her brother's average prick like it was the hand of God himself, lovingly kissing and nibbling at it like she'd never considered doing to anyone else in her life, soft prick still coated with sperm and her own foamy cunt juice, praying thankfulness on the altar of his young golden balls. Ethan wasn't doing a thing to their minds, she was doing it all herself of her own free will because she . . . loved him. The old wizard! Bah!
"Oh, Domi!" she was whispering, "I've always loved you. You're so good. I admire you so much. I've always been the silly one, but I've watched your quiet thoughts and loved you. Domi! Domi!" And she kissed and sucked him and he started getting hard again.
"Dominique, I've always loved you too," he whispered. "I've always been afraid to admit it, but I'm excited whenever you're in the room. You're so beautiful, so fresh and energetic, I love your life, I worship your body.. . . " And he moved around to put a brotherly kiss on her soft, tender bottom, but the kiss grew hot and in a minute her pear-shaped bottom was stuck up high above his face and his lips were buried in her erotic golden pubes.
"Oh, no! Domi!" she cried in ecstasy. "Not again!"
"Oh, no!" groaned Ethan. "Not again! . . . " But already her beautiful little body was shaking and her bottom wiggling and tender loving groans slipped out between her panting, kissing lips.
Ethan mumbled resignedly, "Ah, well, the old Wiz rides again," and he thought a beam of fire into them.
"No!" she called out, not passionately but condemningly, commandingly, "Let us alone, wizard!"
She turned her face to him and she was misty, glazed, aching to be back to the little stick idol she worshipped, but fierce and commanding with him the stranger, the outsider who was allowed to stay and watch the native festivities as long as he stayed behind the ropes.
Ethan stopped the sparks, gesturing a brusque dismissal at her. She smiled a thankful smile which suddenly turned into a tense, panting, doglike look of surprise and passion as her brother got used to her beautiful pubes and learned quickly now what excited her. She fell back to his stiff organ with a moan.
They came, not as hard as Ethan could have arranged, but they did all right by themselves as they shuddered and swooned again. Her lovely golden muff sank, spending and grateful, against his ecstasy-frozen face as she gobbled the last of his sperm and her satiated head fell with a shuddering sigh beside his genitals, her long golden hair flowing down between his legs, getting into the damp, sweaty crack of his ass.
Later, as they lay naked in each other's arms, Ethan wondered if they would ever discover their love for each other in real life, out from under the shelter of the wizard's spells. He didn't know, but it made him uncomfortable to think about it and he let them stay in his world as long as they liked, until it finally got late and they had to be home for supper. Then he set them free, or locked them away from each other, depending on how you look at things.
12
WHEN Ethan returned to the tenement, there was a big woman in a dirty black trench coat standing out on the sidewalk, trying to read the address that was unreadable under all the grime and filth. She was a chunky tank of a woman in her forties, but all muscle like a gym instructor.
"This is 314," said Ethan, leaning on the rail before climbing the stairs.
"Thanks, handsome," she said. "How'd you figure it out? All I could see was the four, but I had it figured as an eight. Walked up and down the block wondering what happened to 14 and 16."
"They tore 16 down."
"How'd they miss 14? Hey, you don't live here, do you?"
"Naw," he said, heading up the stairs, "I'm just here for a big party."
"Hey!" she said. "Me, too. Come on, sport. We'll make the mod scene together."
Ethan snapped his fingers. "Lynn Soo!" he yelled.
"Jesus Christ, is that tonight?"
"Bet your ass it is." she said with a merry twinkle of a dirty-minded Santa Claus. "You mean you were just giving me the runaround? You really live in this death-trap?"
"Baby," he said, "If it's good enough for Lynn Soo, it's good enough for me."
"Baby," she said, "those words are so true, if I were ten years younger I'd take you right on these stairs."
Ethan was taken aback by this, and showed it. She laughed.
"Haw haw!" she laughed. "Sorry to snake you up, sweetheart. An old bull like me, I shake a few people up and why not? I had my fun when I was a girl and I still have my fun, but I guess I'm just a dirty old lady now."
"There are a lot of dirty ladies around, you know?" he said after a moment's thought. "You're just the first I've met who'd admit it. But you ain't so old."
"Haw!" she laughed. "Buster, I bet there' s still some good times left in you!"
And together they trudged up the stairs to the second floor. "I'll be over in a minute," he said. "I've got to wash up."
"So you live right across the hall, eh?" she said, music blasting from Lynn Soo's apartment over laughter and loud voices. "That's a tender little love nest. Invite me in, sweetheart. We're a half-hour late as it is."
She came in with him without waiting to be invited. He went into the bathroom to wash up while she wandered through the apartment.
"Passable," she commented as he came out. She had two glasses of whiskey sitting on the table. "Here," she said, giving him one of them, "we better brace ourselves before we venture into that thunder pit across the hall."
"Yeah," he said, "thanks. You're all right."
"I just don't want to have to be a fine, upstanding example of the older generation without a few stiff drinks, that's all."
They downed the whiskey. "I got to go put on a clean shirt," he said.
"Yeah, so what should I do? Turn my back or something?"
"Don't do nothing," he said grumping.
"Hey," she said, coming in and sitting on the bed, watching him change his shirt, "don't get sore. I should have guessed pretty young things don't ask me to parties unless they got something special in mind. I just don't like matchmakers, that's all."
He stopped. "What do you mean?"
"I mean overly helpful little girls who think just because they're young and pretty that everybody is young and pretty and if you just put them together. I mean when we finally walk in together, watch the look of success in mein hostess' eyes. Now, I think Lynn Soo is a very kind, loving, talented girl, I like her very much. But count the number of old fogies there besides you, the male fogy, and me, the female fogy, and see if you can get above zero."
He thought about this. It made a certain sense, "but I'm not an old fogy," he said. "Neither are you. You're not bad at all."
"For a woman my age," she finished for him. "Sure, but try and prove it across the hall."
"I'm not an old fogy," he said, for this was something that was bothering him today, "I'm the greatest lover in the world."
It was she who had to think about that. "Haw," she finally laughed. "If that's so, maybe Lynn Soo isn't so bad after all. Haw!"
Ethan glared at her and thought and thought at her, upping the power high, and took her by the wrists. The old wizard wasn't going to take this lying down, haw haw yourself.
She blinked as the spell hit her and she was already flushed and breathing hard as he yanked her down on the bed, but she still managed to say in her normal, gritty, sarcastic voice, "I always love it when you're angry. You're so cute." Then Ethan kissed her on her firm, mocking lips, and she moaned.
She was misty-eyed and shaken when the kiss was done and she lay passively, helping a little as he pulled off her black blouse. Her stomach was flat and her breasts were full and still strong when he undid her bra. The nipples rose hard and she turned her face into the covers and made small sounds as he rolled her big breasts around and squeezed and petted her hard nipples, and the unstoppable passion rose in her.
"You know," he said softly to her, "you're not bad."
"You know," she whispered into the blanket, "you're not bad yourself. But don't mess around. You've got me hot. Sock it to me."
"Do what?" he chuckled, squeezing a tender melon with one hand and spiraling the other down to her skirt.
"Fuck me, doll, fuck me! . . . Ohhh! Oh, Jesus! You got it, sweetheart. I'll beg if that's what you want."
He unzipped her skirt and pulled it off. He rolled her over and her big bottom wasn't bad either.
"What do you do to keep in shape?" he asked, curious.
"You dirty cocksucker," she moaned in hot passion. "I'm a gym teacher and I mess around but I've never felt it like this and I'm hotter than I've ever been and you ask me . . . oh! Oh, yes!"
Her lace panties stretched out over the expanse of her big globes and she felt them pulling and sliding under her, nearing her cunt, multiplied by Ethan's mind.
"Oh, JEZZUZZ!" she moaned. "Oh, honey, you're some lover, but I wouldn't want to be your wife. Stuff like this don't stay home.. . . Oh! Oh, honey!! Ah!"
He shoved her onto her back and her briefs were squeezed down her hips like bikinis and her brown fur boiled out of them. He yanked them down and yanked his own clothes off and rode her down until she wept for joy, shuddering and humping and kissing him; then caught in one climactic spasm of spending she came deep, arched up and spread wide and helplessly frozen to his pounding until, in a few deep strokes, he too shoved quick and hard and froze, spending down into her, and they sagged down on the bed together.
"Oh, honey,' ' she gasped, burdened chest still heaving, "I've never had it like that. I'm glad we met and I'm glad I don't know you."
"What?" he asked. "Why is that?"
"You're some lay, baby," she told him, touching her burning cunt gingerly, "but, sweetheart, first of all I'd be a slave to a fuck like that and I'm against slavery. Second of all, you're working a little something on the side that might turn out to be stronger than you. When I take a lover, I like to know who he is. I had the feeling you were just in there for effect and maybe to beat off, but it was something else that was fucking me."
"That was my mind!" he protested. "I do it in my head!"
"All right," she said. "I feel a little better. I thought it might have been some kind of a machine or something. Try me some time just straight. But listen, baby, don't get me wrong. I'm going to be eternally grateful to you."
"No, you're not," he said, peeved. "Not eternally, not even past right NOW!" And with a flick of his mind he broke the connection, she shook her head and found herself lying sweaty and spent on her back in bed with Lynn Soo's naked old neighbor.
"I just fucked you," he said.
"Whew," she said, absently wiping some of the sweat off her belly with the blanket, "must have been some screw. I don't remember a thing."
She was worried, but then she laughed and shrugged it off, giving her thigh a hearty smack. "Aw," she said, "it still runs pretty good."
"Still looks pretty good too," he said, surprised at her calm reaction, reaching over and touching a big, softening tit.
"You old goat!" she said. "You mean you got me down to rut with that old line? Jesus, I really don't remember a thing." She casually slapped his hand away. "If Lynn Soo knew this . . . I don't know, maybe she'd be happy. But I don't even know your name yet."
"Ethan," said Ethan, "Ethan Bowles.' '
"Gracie Sheldon's what I go by," she said, and being somewhat a master of the absurd, reached over, lying naked on her back, limp and newly-fucked and still dripping his sperm from her dark cunt, and shook his hand, saying, "Pleased to meet you, Bowles."
She sat up in bed with a groan and then gave a different kind of groan, slightly pleased, as her hand flew in reaction to her suddenly sore crotch.
"Jesus, Bowles, we must have had quite a time,' ' she said. "Now let me freshen up and we'll get over to the party. I hate it when youngsters gloat at you."
A few minutes later she was back, still naked. She refilled their two glasses. Like Ethan, she drank her straight and any woman like that can't be all bad. In fact, Ethan liked a lot of things about Gracie. They chugged down the drinks and fifteen minutes later showed up at the party, which was already going strong.
It was a very loud and very long party and Gracie and Ethan were old buddies long before it was over, matching each other to drinks, sharing pulls on the old green peace-pot-pipe and being generally depraved and not at all the fine, upstanding examples of the older generation they had planned on being. In fact in a couple of hours or so they had a hard time sitting up straight, much less standing.
"Lynn Soo," Gracie said to her at one point on her way back with two more drinks, "you're a fine girl but my life isn't that hollow that I need to be set up with blind-date studs even if they are as old as I am."
"Gracie!" exclaimed Lynn Soo, "I wanted you to come because Ethan is such a kind, lonely old man and I wanted him to have some company. I was sure you wouldn't mind!"
"Oh, no," Gracie said quickly. "No, I don't mind gossiping a little with lonely old recluses."
Lynn Soo kissed her on the cheek. "I knew you wouldn't!" she sort of had to yell over the roar of the party. "You two seem to be getting along all right!"
"Oh, sure!" said Gracie. "We're hat and glove together!"
Gracie worked her way back to Ethan and plopped down beside him in the corner.
"Hey, trooper!" she yelled in his ear. "Lynn Soo says you're a lonely old recluse!"
"I lead a double life!" Ethan shouted back.
"Not so loud!" shouted a guy who had been sitting next to them making notes all night.
"Says who?" yelled Ethan, drunk and belligerant.
The man said a name but nobody heard it.
"Who?" yelled Gracie.
"Peterson!" the man shouted at the top of his lungs. "CIA! But that's a secret! Listen you don't want to go shouting about yourself all over this party! There could be counteragents!"
"Check with the FBI!" Ethan yelled back at him. "It's all a mistake!"
"It wasn't until the FBI decided it was a fake that we decided you must be onto something!" shouted the agent. "Why don't we go for a walk and talk about it? If you've got what we think you've got, I think we could work out a nice little arrangement."
"It was all a mistake!" shouted Ethan.
"We'd like to get a good, secluded spot for you to live, at our cost of course, and with us, cost is no expense. Also there are other little . . . ah . . . arrangements we could discuss in private, but suffice it to say laws do not apply where we don't wish them to apply, if you get my meaning!"
"I wouldn't tell you crazy bastards if I had something!" he shouted. "You're worse than the income-tax people. You'd get it all tangled up in bureaucracy!"
"We thought you were going to be reasonable!" whined the agent at the top of his lungs. "You came to us first! Don't forget God and Country!"
"Get off my back!" yelled Ethan. "It was a mistake!"
"I'm sorry to have to do this," yelled the agent, "but you're under arrest, Bowles . . . oooop!"
The agent blinked and shook his head when Ethan's thought hit him.
"Saaay.. . . " he yelled. "You're right! It was a mistake! Forget you ever saw me! Report anything you see!"
"What was that all about?" shouted Gracie.
"Nothing!" grumbled Ethan. "A mistake I made when I was very young! Why don't we walk over to a nice loud bar and give our ears a chance to rest!"
"Suits me!" she shouted.
"What?" he shouted, but she just got up and pulled him with her.
It was cool and pleasant outside, with their ears still ringing from the noise. They walked along the sidewalk until a taxi pulled up beside them.
"Hey, taxi, mister?" asked the cabby. Ethan was surprised. He didn't think they were that drunk that people would stop. Almost that drunk, soon to be that drunk, but not quite.
"Naw," he said. "We'll make it."
"I think you should take a taxi, Mr. Bowles," said the cabbie. "I'm Osgood. CIA."
"I just got finished with the CIA," whined Ethan. "That's him leaving now."
ISO
The cabdriver's eyes shot down the block to the car pulling away. "He was talking to you about it?" he demanded.
Ethan tried to tell him it was all a mistake, but the cab squealed off after the other car, driver calling into a radio, two other cars shooting away from the curb after him.
"I'm sorry about these interruptions," said Ethan. "Should all be straightened out soon."
"I know how it is," she said. "The phone company once gave a funeral parlor the same phone number I had. It's hard to straighten those things out.
"You know, Ethan," she said later in the bar. "We're really going to be stinking drunk before the night is over."
"I can't think of anyone I'd rather be stinking with," he told her gallantly.
"You corny bastard," she said. "You've got your good points."
"Will there be anything else?" asked the bartender, clearing the empty glasses away.
"Nope," said Ethan, beginning to feel stinking drunk. "Just aim us for the door."
"Perhaps I'll walk with you, Mr. Bowles," said the bartender smoothly. "I'm Evans, CIA. I'm sorry our conversation was so rudely interrupted.. . . "
BONG!
In a fury Ethan hit him with a looming gray thought that made the bartender blink and stagger and giggle and break glasses and foam at the mouth. Finally he shook his head and said, "Isn't that funny! We rarely make mistakes like that. Thanks for your cooperation, Bowles. Just follow the wall and you'll get to the door, hee hee hee!"
"The phone company never acted like that," said Gracie as they went to another bar. The minute the sat down, the man in the next booth turned around and introduced himself as "Erlich, Army Security," and Ethan had to zap him too. Then they left.
At the next bar they decided word must be filtering up because they were served without being called by name, but a girl standing in the middle of the floor dancing with her dog wiggled past their table and introduced herself as "Engler, Special Intelligence." He zapped her and she left so they had a few more drinks and made it back to the party, being stopped only once by a hippie, selling underground papers on a street corner, who caught Ethan's shoulder as he passed and whispered, "Hey, Bowles, my government would make it worth it for you to have a little chat . . . ooog!" And he went grooving off down the street mumbling, "Weird! All a mistake. Very weird."
It was too much. Standing outside the building leaning on Gracie when she wasn't leaning on him, Ethan decided to put an end to this foolishness once and for all. Through a fog of booze he locked his mind woozily on the FBI, the CIA, the Police, the Army, and Anybody Else who might be involved with his mistaken good-natured attempt at being a patriot. Not even air conditioning was enough to get him to work with those mad, pen-pushing, bartending, taxi-driving weirdos, now that he had had a sample of how tough his gift could be when you used it as work instead of just a hobby. It got to be just like work.
So he thought of all the agents and bureaucrats and anti-agents and administrators and special agents and double agents and he thought, "Forget about Ethan Bowles! It was a mistake! Forget him and go on about your work!"
Instantly five cars drove away from the curb, a garbage truck that had been making late pickups abandoned its work and drove away with garbagemen on both sides pulling off their uniforms and straightening their coats and ties hidden underneath. A ass got up out of a doorway and walked off, a couple walking with their two children turned around in mid-step and walked off the way they had come, several other passers-by on both sides of the street turned and walked off, leaving the block almost empty, and to top it off a mangy dog that had been sniffing around a garbage can beside Ethan jumped up and trotted over to a black station wagon and hopped in the open tailgate as the car started to pull away.
After that Ethan didn't remember much of anything. They must have gone back to the party for a while and may have even gone out drinking again. He vaguely remembered maybe taking a bottle and going to ride the ferry, but that wasn't clear and that was the clearest thing he had. At any rate, assume more booze consumed than should be consumed in the space of even several parties, and whatever happened just slid by right under the bridge.
But whatever happened, when the fog cleared away the next morning, or at least became visible, or rather, settled like two heads full of steel wool, who should be lying next to Ethan with as big a hangover as his but Gracie.
"Hey, champ," she moaned, "where's the aspirin?"
They both staggered into the kitchen and had aspirin and then black coffee and eventually they got to the point where they could talk.
"Surprise, surprise," she said. "I thought I didn't remember going home last night."
"Heh! Heh! Heh!" said Ethan. "You were powerless beneath my spell. And I'm going to keep you my slave forever!"
"You are the corniest bastard I've ever met," she groaned.
"Oh, yeah?" said Ethan. "Heh! Heh! Heh! Take THAT! . . . "
"Take what?" she asked, but Ethan didn't hear her. His brows were knit with horror and his eyes were wild with confusion.
He couldn't remember the thought.
Somewhere in the drunken blast, the thought that made it all work had slipped from his mind.
He thought of Lynn Soo and he thought of loneliness and he thought of sunset and he thought lustful thoughts and he thought sad thoughts and he thought friendly thoughts and he thought happy thoughts and it was in there somewhere, but the blur of the epic drunk had let it slip away. And he panicked, and the minute he panicked he drove any possibility of ever finding the right combination right down the drain.
"Lyn Soo!" he was thinking. "Caterpillars! Sunset! Morning! Faces! Cunt! Cereal! Kittens! Goldfish! Tits!"
It was hopeless. He couldn't remember.
"I command you to get hot," he shouted out loud at Gracie.
She just looked at him. "What the hell's wrong with you?" she asked.
"You can't hold back the passion! It's overwhelming you!"
"I sure as hell can, and it sure as hell isn't! Look here, buster. You're going to have to work harder than that to keep me around. No one-shot Romeo keeps me!"
"I've lost it!" he cried.
She looked worried now. "Take it easy, sport," she said. "What's going on here?"
"Cunt! Fuck! Piss! Tit! Dick!"
She was amazed. "That kind of thing stopped with your grandmother," she said. "I can't believe you're really the hot-shot that bedded me in record time yesterday. Come on, Ethan, wise up. I'm getting low on patience."
"Aggghh!" he shouted, and he jumped up, threw on his clothes and ran screaming down the stairs and down the block.
Ethan ran through the city mentally molesting everyone and no one cared.
He had forgotten the code and everywhere he ran he met with cold, blank stares, and the only gasping and panting he heard was his own. In a drunken stupor he had controlled every secret agent on the Eastern Seaboard, and now he couldn't even make a dog blink.
As he was staring at one young thing, trying to control her mind, an old lady thought he was staring at her and hit him with her pocketbook. A young woman shoved him aside. Junior-high-school girls taunted him. High-school boys chased him. It was all a nightmare. He wasn't even sure any of it had really happened. Perhaps he had just fallen asleep or had been daydreaming and was just now waking up.
At his lowest moment, there by the park entrance, he saw the girl in the black dress walking toward him. His mind was wild, desperate.
"This is my last chance," he said to himself. "This is how I first discovered it. I can do it again."
But his mind was jumbled in confusion and all he could think any more was gibberish.
"Ugga! Bugga! Bugga!" he thought fiercely. "Ub Oob! OOB! MWA! FRRRR! BAM!"
Nothing. She was going to walk right by.
"Stop!" he thought and she stopped. He almost wept for joy until she looked at him very strangely and said, "What is it?" And he realized he hadn't thought it, he'd said it out loud.
"What do you want?" she asked. Few people would even stop in the city. She was a kind, compassionalte girl.
Ethan stared pathetically into her face, remembering her when she was doubled up with wracking shudders of passion, her face stretched tight with ecstasy, and then afterwards the way she had glowed with love and contentment. She wasn't as pretty as he remembered, but he remembered the way her blue bikinis slid up when she spread her legs to give herself, and it didn't matter and how happy she had been afterwards and it didn't matter.
But now, standing here on the street, she was upset to see this silent old man going through emotional faces at a terrific rate and she turned and fled down the street because to show emotion to a stranger is a horrible, ugly thing. It forced unwanted responsibility on the person you did it to, it wasn't right to force your problems out like that, but as she ran, she couldn't be quite sure she hadn't seen him somewhere before and she felt guilty about running, but was still glad to be away from him.
Ethan staggered home late that night, old and bent and beaten. He lay down on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. In earlier times he would have gloried in just the memory of the kind his mind was full of, but it was not earlier times. He was unsatisfied, and the least he wanted was to be able to take women wherever he wanted them, and that seemingly small request was now denied him.
He was still looking blankly up at the ceiling when someone knocked gently on his door. He went to the door hoping it was the CIA; maybe he could at least wrangle something out of them before they caught on that he had lost it. He opened the door and saw Gracie.
"Hello, sport," she said. "I didn't wake you up, did
I?"
"No," he said, strangely happy to see her. "No, come in, please."
"I saw your light so I figured you was still up," she said. "Listen, did I leave my hat here? I can't find it anywhere."
"Come in. I've been out all day so I wouldn't have seen it. Why don't you look around?"
She came in and they both looked around.
"Uhh," he said awkwardly, "I'm really sorry about what happened this morning, Gracie. I didn't mean to hurt you by running out like that. I just remembered something terrible and I couldn't stay. I'd never try to hurt you. We had such a good time and we were good for each other."
She stopped and looked him right in the eye. "You on the make again, sweetheart?" He didn't know what to say. "Gracie," he said finally, "I guess I am on the make, but just because I like you so much. I mean everything I say, I really do. In fact I'm just a nothing, just some old man, and you probably don't want to even think twice about me any more, but I want you to know I really didn't mean to hurt you. This morning was just the last part of a stupid mistake."
"You corny son-of-a-bitch," she said. "You get me every time with that shit. Come here and kiss me, lover. I haven't worn a hat in fifteen years."
When the kiss finally stopped long enough for them to breathe, she told him, "You know, Ethan, as a rule in my life, when people dump on me, I get rid of them and that's that. Well, that's the way I felt about you this morning when you ran out and left me. I could do without that kind of shit. And that's the way I felt, truly, for the rest of the day.
"But a funny thing happened then. I was walking along the street this evening and all of a sudden, it seemed like I just blinked and an hour had gone by and it was dark and I was still standing right where I was, but there was a man in black standing across the street looking at me and I had the strangest feeling I knew him from somewhere. I still can't figure it out.
"But anyhow, one minute I figured, the hell with you and the next minute it was dark and I felt all loose and easy and I couldn't get away from the idea that if I didn't come back here and see you just once more, I was biting my nose off to spite my face. I mean from the minute I woke up from whatever it was, all I could think of was getting back here to see you and I guess maybe go to bed with you."
Ethan stared at her, trying to make sense out of it. At first he was enraged, but it was only an instant, because he knew much better than that. He had done good in his time and now good was being accidentally done to him, and good is good whatever form it chooses.
So he laughed out loud and said, "You won't regret it, Gracie." He pulled her down on the bed and started pulling off her clothes almost as fast as she was pulling off his.
They made love together then. It wasn't great. Or at least, there were no pyrotechnics, no minds driven mad, no screaming, begging, piteous voices, no souls humbled and brought to their knees. But oh, Jesus, was it sweet!
