Most modern psychiatrists agree that the largest number of pedophilia individuals are male. These "lovers of children" come in all types from the blatantly criminal to the old uncle who fondles the crotch of his niece as he holds her on his lap. However the modern chronicler shows that women are making great strides in this formerly all male field.
The pedophile can be either heterosexual or homosexual, and is usually pictured as some dank and dark character lurking around a schoolhouse lying in wait for unsuspecting children.
However one close offshoot of this type of activity is the adult female who develops a continuing need for young boy lovers usually in the 12 to 16-year-old age bracket.
In their book, Fundamentals of Human Sexuality, Herant A. Katchadourian, M.D. and Donald T. Lunde, M.D. say that most child-lover episodes are quite brief, however there may be a series of such brief encounters before it is stopped by parents or the adult herself.
In this field there is very little original research, partly due to the tremendous acceleration of the sex roles in our society today. However it is generally believed that the adult female who chances onto boy-love, is a much more difficult case psychologically to handle than the adult male with the same aberration.
In the first place the woman who fondles young boys is often thought to be simply expressing her "motherly" affection, and often her conduct goes unnoticed. In later stages young boys working around homes and businesses are often in contact with women and the opportunities of sexual exhibitionism, and of contact, and even intercourse are much greater.
In the situation in this story, the woman has been slave-bound to a business for thirteen years, when suddenly she explodes into a frenzy of sexual activity.
She had had no real satisfactory relationships with men in recent years, and has retreated farther and farther behind those memories of experiences in high school and just afterward when the satisfaction was intense and pleasant.
In a short period of time she runs the course, experimenting with Lesbianism, with an older adult male, then with two young boys to find out just what sexual activity excites her the most.
Her only attempt to find out about group sex nearly results in tragedy, but may also have produced for her a contact that can result in her eventual salvation.
The case of the adult pedophiliac, especially the female, is usually so much a jungle overgrowth of contradicting feelings and emotions and remembered sexual experiences, that the professional is left with an almost impossible task.
In this case the problem was not of an advanced stage, but it had become increasingly strong during the past week of activity. With proper counseling and care this woman undoubtedly could be cured of her problem, but in all probability she will not seek professional care.
As with all sex matters, Katchadourian says: "The place that sex occupies in our overall lives varies from one person to another. It is possible that we are born with different genetic predispositions in drive strengths. Physical characteristics certainly have great influence on personality development and sexual behavior. For example, a pretty girl discovers early the impact of her appearance on others."
As with any case of pedophilia, the main area of harm is upon the child, not the adult. In some ways this case does not entirely fall within the category, since the two boys most strongly affected by the contact were in the limbo of a "learning time" and as such may have come through the episode with less harm than the woman.
In any event the struggles of this woman to discover and to direct her sexual drive is interesting, provocative and may help others in ways to handle similar situations.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
Ruth Marshall smiled at the fat man with the fading hairline and blackheads on his nose.
"Just a little more smile, Mr. Haroldson, that's it, a little more. Hey, am I gonna have to make a funny face to get you to smile?" She made a funny face, got exactly the expression she wanted and pushed the cable release.
The overhead umbrella strobes flashed and she grinned.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, Mr. Haroldson, was it? I'll have proofs for you tomorrow afternoon."
The man stood up and scowled. "All right, I'll look at them already. Bunch of damned foolishness, but the wife wants to go. So I go.
Passport photos, yet. Already she's spending my money."
He went out without saying good-bye, still muttering about how much the trip to Europe was going to cost him.
Ruth rubbed one hand over her face and glanced at the clock. It was almost four. Robbie would be coming in soon to clean up. He was getting good in the darkroom too. She could push some of the work load off on him.
She slid the four-shot film holder from the big camera and took it into the darkroom. No, she wasn't "pushing" work on him, he loved it, and he needed the money-his family sure as hell did. And he really was getting good.
The thought of the boy stirred her. She worried about it for a while. Maybe it had been too long since her last real good tussle in bed with a man. Probably. But Robbie was big for his age, and at fourteen that can be pretty damn big these days.
She slid the door closed, pulled on the dark red light and slipped the cut film from the holder into the cut film tank and then snapped on the light. Water rinse, then the developer, set the timer, check on the hypo for strength, get the dumb film souped so it can be dried then proofed to show to grouchy old Mr. Haroldson tomorrow.
It was a rat race, a treadmill, a work-load of no return.
Oh, hell yes, she was sitting pretty. A portrait studio of her own free and clear, she even owned the building the shop was in and her home. They had been her father's before he died, some eight years earlier. She took over.
Robbie. Her hand went up to one breast and scratched. What the hell, did her tit really itch or was she playing with herself? She snorted. She was playing with herself, and it felt good.
Yeah, she could use some humping. It would be wild to be married, to have a cock there waiting for you, even demanding you, and if it didn't you could roll over and touch it and say how about now, and he'd jump in the saddle.
Damn it, she was hard up.
Robbie knocked on the darkroom doorpost, then pulled the curtain aside when he saw the white light on.
"Hi, Ruth, where shall I start?" he asked.
She looked at him. He was about five-eight, an inch taller than she was, with hair brushing his collar and hiding his ears. She didn't mind long hair. He had blue eyes and kind of sandy blond hair, a good firm nose and a mouth that would be perfect fitted around one of her feverish tits.
"Start, Robbie? Why not get rid of this damn trash, then we'll see what we can print out before closing time? Oh, check to see if I have any more appointments for today first, will you?"
His head bobbed and he darted through the blackout curtain to the little "front" part of the store. She sold film and a few cheap cameras, and took in photo processing. It all helped pay the bills. Her hand moved back to her breast again. Had she been playing with her boobie when Robbie came in? She decided she hadn't. She had noticed the bulge at his crotch though.
Damn, the boys were wearing pants so tight half the time you could see clearly their little cocks and balls. Wild!
Her hand inched between the buttons onto her bra. Warm, and good. Wilder! She wondered what it would be like to play around with Robbie. Nothing serious, just kind of tell him about girls, give him a look at a bare tit. That sort of educational work.
She giggled. Her hand had opened a button and crawled over the top of her bra and against warm girl tit. Wild, yeah. Warm, she was feeling warmer now.
Robbie came back and she got the button closed just in time.
"Nope, no more appointments today, Ruth," he said.
He went at the big trash barrel, hauling it outside to the alley and dumping it in the bigger trash container. He spent another ten minutes getting the darkroom cleaned up, then dusted the front and straightened up things in the studio.
by that time she had the last batch of film out of the developer and into the hypo. She waited two minutes, then snapped on the white light, killing out the amber glow of the enlarging safelight.
It didn't come consciously, but she got the idea and let it simmer there, cooking, developing. When it was all done, she grinned and called Robbie.
"Hey, Rob, get yourself in here."
"Ready to do some printing?"
"No, I've got a small problem." She waved at a calendar on the wall which featured a delicately posed nude girl on a black wrought iron chair.
"Rob, you've seen pictures of topless girls before, right?" she asked.
"Sure."
"Good, because I need your help. I've got a customer who needs a picture something like that, and I don't have time to go get a model, so I figured as how I could pose for it myself. Only then I can't take the picture, too. I want you to snap the shutter for me."
"Sure, why not?"
"Good, bring two of those four-shot five by seven film holders and we'll do it right now." She glanced at her watch. It was 4:45. "Hang out the closed sign on the door, and we can get to work. Shouldn't take more than about an hour."
When Ruth went into the little studio, she was shaking. She wasn't sure she could even say it. He'd gone along with it so casually, she wondered if he knew a lot more about girls than she guessed. She'd sure as hell find out in a rush.
In the studio she turned on the modeling lights and set them at a sixty and a forty-five degree angle to highlight the sides and give some depth. She found the black wooden, bent-back chair she wanted to use and realized that she was stalling.
"Put the film in the camera, Rob, the way I showed you." She was thinking fast now.
The front door was locked, the light out, nobody could see the studio from the front. She began unbuttoning her blouse.
"Rob, I know you've seen pictures, but it might be different looking at the real thing. You sure you don't mind?" she asked.
She had her blouse open, exposing part of her bra. Damn, but her tits were already beginning to feel warm. She wondered how he felt? How long had it been since a man had seen her body naked, played with her cunt, drove his big hard cock up inside her? She shivered. "Rob, you really don't mind, do you?"
"No, no, Ruth, that's okay. I mean, why should I mind?" he asked.
Right then Rob wanted to reach down and rub his crotch, to untangle his prick from his shorts. Somehow it was bent and it was getting hot and he was sure his cock would break right in two when it got full hard. Damn!
She was going to go topless right there in front of the lights and let him take pictures of her old boobs. Not that she was old, she was what?-About thirty? he guessed. But, damn, did she have good floppers.
He'd pushed up against them once in a while in the darkroom, and one time when she was showing him how to develop prints, she'd leaned into him.
He thought she liked it, the way she kept them pushed up against him.
He watched her open the buttons on her blouse and his cock snapped to attention. He had to risk one hand. It shot down and pulled until his prick came free and sprang up along his zipper.
Hell, she had taken her blouse off. Holy cow, did that bra hold a bundle. He was staring at her, watching as she reached behind her and worked with the catch. He never did figure out how those things worked.
The way she stretched pushed her tits out farther yet, and he wanted to reach out and pinch one.
Ruth opened the hook on her bra and sighed. She knew she was out of her mind, but right then her twat was doing her thinking, and it wasn't at all worried. Instead of easing her bra off, she pulled it off in one quick movement.
"Wow!" Rob said.
She glanced up at him. His mouth was open and his eyes fixed on her breasts.
"Yes, Rob, they do look different all uncovered, don't they? You just take a good look, then I'll pose and you can shoot the pictures," she said.
She waited a minute, wishing she knew how to get him closer, get him to touch her body. That wouldn't hurt anything if he touched her, he probably never had even felt a woman's tit.
"Rob, come here," she said. She wondered how she got the nerve, it was pure twat-talk nerve. Pure sex-wish.
Rob left the safety of the camera stand and she saw at once the big dick lump behind his zipper. He had a hard-on that wouldn't stop!
Ruth smiled. At least she didn't turn off this young man.
"Rob, have you ever had a good look at a woman's breasts?" she asked.
"No," he said, his voice little more than a gurgle.
"Don't be afraid, Rob. Take a good look, you can't hurt them. Most women really like to be admired, to know that a man likes the looks of her body. You know, a good figure. And right now I'm glad that you want to look at me. Does that make sense to you?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, but his eyes never left her boobs.
She shook her shoulders, making the half orbs of her breast jolt and jiggle.
"Oh, wow, wow!" Rob said. His eyes lit up and he grinned, but still he watched her breasts.
"Rob, would you like to touch them?" she asked.
"Huh?" He looked up at her.
"Would you like to touch my breasts? They really won't break, you know," she said.
"You wouldn't...? I mean, it would be okay?" he asked.
"As long as you don't tell anybody. It would be our secret, wouldn't it? Our grown-up secret."
She caught his hand and pulled him forward, then lifted his hand and placed it on her tit.
Ruth saw his hips pump even as his hand touched her. He humped a dozen times and, as he did, she reached out and tried to push open his pants, but couldn't find the zipper. At last she just held his fly where the bulge throbbed and felt the wetness of his hot fresh cum seep through his jeans.
"Oh, God. Oh, that's so great, good, good, good," he said.
His hips stopped and he blinked, then looked down at her. "I didn't mean to do that. It was just that when I saw you, and then when I touched you...."
She laughed, delighted. "Rob, that's all right, don't worry about it. It happens all the time."
"You mean you ain't mad at me? You don't want to throw me out? I mean ... wow!"
"You just go right ahead and feel me up all you want to. Rob, I like it. Remember, a woman, a girl, likes to think about sex too, didn't you know that?"
She caught both his hands and put them over her breasts.
"Do they feel warm?" He nodded.
"Good, because they are warm. They're warm because you complimented them. You so much as told them that when you touched my tit, it made you so excited that you came off. They like that, and so do I."
She whirled off into a short flight of emotion then, as his young hands felt of her, so softly, so gently, as if her boobs were made of the most fragile china that could break with the pressure of a finger. She took his hand and showed him how to play with a nipple.
"Watch my nipple, Rob. Watch how it gets excited, and all by itself it gets warmer and warmer and more blood pours into it until it almost doubles in size and stands tall. Did you know that happened?"
He shook his head, then began to play with her other nipple until it too was tall. She put out a hand and rubbed his crotch. Gently she found his zipper and pulled it down.
"Rob, do you mind? I'd like to look at you, down here, your beautiful cock and balls."
He shrugged, but all the time his mind was roaring. What was happening? She showed him her tits and let him pet them, and now she wanted to look at his prick. Hadn't she ever seen a cock before? Sure she must have, she'd fucked too, he was sure. So what was she so worked up about him? He'd just tag along and see what happened.
He was still so overwhelmed by her boobs. And he was feeling of them! God, he was going to get a hard-on again. He felt his prick rising, moving up into that wet place where he'd shot gallons of his hot sticky cum only minutes earlier.
Ruth worked through his shorts and found it. Smaller now, but not soft, just starting to grow big and fat and hard again. She pulled it out of his shorts and played with his cock. She wondered how big it would be when he was grown up?
Not much bigger, Rob was fourteen already. She wondered if he'd ever fucked a girl. She bet he hadn't, in fact hers were the first tits he'd ever touched, she was sure of that.
She watched his cock grow. Gently she played with him, wanting to get her hands onto his balls. Did he have much hair down there? She wondered.
When she really looked at him again, his cock was throbbing and hard again. It was maybe five inches long. She'd seen some men with less cock than this little kid. She stood up and caught his hand.
"Rob. let's move, this chair's getting uncomfortable," she said.
She led him to the edge of the studio where they had a couch they used as a prop. She'd been fucked before on that couch, but not for several years. Horny men didn't come around as much any more.
She sat on the couch, and urged Rob to sit beside her. He did and began petting her breasts.
"Rob, would you like to kiss me?" she asked.
"Yeah." He gulped noisily and started to blush.
She waited. He leaned in and kissed her gently, then backed away.
Ruth smiled. "That's nice, Rob, but try it this way, too," she said.
She pulled him toward her, kissed him hard, probing at his lips with her tongue until he parted them and her dagger flew inside his mouth.
Rob laughed and pulled back.
"That's more of a grown-up kiss, Rob. Women like it that way," she said.
She was still playing with his overheated prick. Gently she began to pump his cockshaft up and down.
"Wow, do you know how to do that?" he asked.
"What, jack you off? Sure I do," she said.
She grinned as he watched, then she picked up his hand and pushed it between her legs. "Rob, honey, rub me a little down there, too, would you?" she asked.
Rob felt the old jism coming. He was panting as he touched her upper leg. Her skirt was up and he pushed his hand in to feel of her crotch and he exploded.
"Oh, God, wow! It's the best one ever!" he said.
Rob kept panting and pounding his hips and squirting cum all over the floor. She pounded him back and forth even after the juice had all droozled out. His hand had come away from her crotch.
He sat there so out of breath he couldn't keep from panting.
Ruth kissed him quickly. "Now, Rob, we better get the rest of the work done around here, right?"
"I still can work here? I thought...." he began.
"Rob, I couldn't get along without you. Now get back to work or I may have to fire you." She was laughing as she said it.
CHAPTER TWO
An hour later the store was cleaned up and the pictures printed that had to be ready for the morning. She said good-bye to Rob and watched him swing onto his bike and pedal away.
She wondered if he still had a dull, insistent throbbing deep down below his balls somewhere around the root of his boycock.
No, of course he didn't. He'd cum twice, spurted it all over the floor.
She was the one who was still so frustrated that she could go home and get out her candle. She smiled just thinking about it. She hadn't had to use that for a long time now. But tonight might be different.
She thought back to high school, when the boys had been around all the time. She'd had dates, lots of them, had gone steady with one boy for almost six months and had opened the wild and wonderful world of sex during her last semester of the senior year.
But that summer when she had been planning on going to college, her father died. He left her everything, the bills, and the past due accounts, and the business. Not that she minded, not now. It had all worked out well, and she was doing nearly twice the amount of business her father ever had. Even counting inflation, that was doing all right for a girl with no more education than she had, and no real talent for taking portraits or even pictures.
She had taken a few night courses at the adult high school in business, accounting and business law, and one or two others to help her along the way.
But somehow the men had kind of faded out on her. She couldn't remember when it happened. For a while all it took when the boy came in his car was a gleam in his eye and maybe a bottle of beer. Then for a while it was a real jug or a hand-rolled marijuana cigarette. She never went for any of the hard stuff.
But now the first thing a date did was bring out a bottle. She wondered if they liked her only if she were drunk enough. Or if they had to be drunk enough to go out with her?
She remembered the skinny prick that Rob had humped so hard. There was more to a man than just that, but for now that was one element that she damn well needed. She took the last of the prints off the circular drum drier and turned off everything except the tank heaters. She finished putting away things reluctantly. There was nothing to do at home.
Home was the house she had been conceived in and born in. There hadn't been time to get her mother to the hospital. Now it sat there much the same as it had. She hired a caretaker to come in every summer and paint and trim and keep the building in good condition.
A gardener did the lawn and shrubs, because she didn't have time. That first summer she let the lawn die, along with about half the plants and all the flowers.
She got by. Like hell she did!
She could at least have a drink.
The bar down the street would be alive and moving. Maybe she could get a laugh or get picked up. It had been almost six months since she'd been out with a real man. Now what the hell made her think of that?
She had memories. God, did she have memories. Not the kind you always want to remember, but they were there.
The bar was crowded when she walked in.
She found a spot toward the end of the stand-up rail and asked for a martini. She wasn't sure why. She really didn't like to drink, and she never had more than one, nursed it, made it last for as long as possible.
The man next to her turned and looked like he wanted to talk. She smiled. Then he sighed and passed out, his head flopping hard against the bar top.
Somebody came and picked him up, moved him to a booth and called his wife. He was a regular customer, it seemed.
Five minutes and no passes later, Charlie came in. He ran Charlie's Cut Flowers right beside her place. He waved and moved in beside her.
Charlie was fine, married, and seemed happy taking care of his little business, and going back packing in the summers. He always had one drink before he went home to his wife. Charlie was a little over forty.
"How's it going?" Charlie asked. "Oh, fine. With you?"
"Business up a little this time of year. But it's gonna slack off." He ordered his usual bourbon and water with a wave at the barkeep.
When his drink came, Ruth lifted her glass with him and drained the last of her martini. She pushed a little closer to Charlie and stared at him.
"Charlie, have I ever put you on? You know, tried to snow you?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Guess not."
"Charlie, how would you like to come over to my place for an hour or so."
"And do what?"
"Get laid."
"Goddamn." He looked at her, at her face, then stared down at her breasts and he sighed.
"Goddamn. Ruth, I'd sure as hell like to." His voice was low, no one else paid any attention to them.
"But...." she said.
"Yeah ... but. I got this damn thing I got to go to. My wife said she'd horsewhip me if I was late getting home. I'm just nailed into it," he said.
She slid away from him. "Sure, sure, that's okay. Don't worry about it, Charlie." She threw a dollar bill on the bar and turned, walking fast for the door.
Now why in hell did she try to pick up Charlie? First damn time she'd ever tried that. What an idiotic thing to do. Why not some stranger?
She left the bar and walked quickly to her car behind the shop.
The drive home took half an hour, which helped, but the big old house looked just as empty, just as lonely as it always did.
Inside she made a fruit salad for her dinner and snapped on the TV set as soon as she went in the front door.
The place was so damned quiet. It had been quiet for thirteen years. Had it been that long since her father died? Yes.
She hardly saw what was on the screen. She should vacuum, and dust and do some washing. The place was a mess, it must be, she hadn't cleaned it for days. But nobody really lived there. She just came in once a day to eat and sleep for a while.
Ruth turned off the TV and put on a stack of records. Most of them were from her high school days with a few standards thrown in. She dreamed, and floated. It was five minutes before she realized her hand was inside her blouse stroking herself.
Why the hell not? She'd worked hard all day. She'd even given a kid his first look at a live tit. She laughed. He'd been so responsive, so turned on.
She remembered a boy who had been that excited. It had been the second time she ever got laid, and it had been the best piece of ass of her life. She was what, eighteen, and wild for that kid. His name had been Joe, and he played on the baseball team.
Joe ... Joe. She drifted back and let her memory take over, as her hands unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra. The nostalgic records played on and she could almost smell that soft summer night.....
Joe had his father's car for the dance. It had been a wonderful dance. He'd held her very close for the last three dances. They forgot everyone else was on the floor, and she knew he had a hard-on, she could feel the bulge of his cock as he pressed it against her. He was whispering in her ear.
"Oh, Ruth, am I hot about you. I got a feeling, a deep down feeling this's gonna be a good night," he said.
She sighed and he had kissed her quickly right there on the floor.
They both sneaked out of the dance, right past the chaperones, and soon the old Plymouth was in gear and rolling up the hill toward Prospect Park.
It was a favorite necking spot for the kids. The cops swung through once in a while, but a lot of action took place up there nonetheless.
Tonight they were early.
Joe said they should take a walk, out to the very tip of the point, and she agreed. He carried a blanket, saying they might want to sit down and rest.
She really didn't believe him, but didn't object.
They got into the woods and he turned off the trail, went down a little ways and behind a thicket of brush. They could see the city lights below, and the moon out ahead of them, but nobody could see them.
Joe spread the blanket and she sat down first, holding out her arms for him. He came down, kissed her, then rested his head against her "pillows," her breasts, and they talked.
But soon he was on his knees kissing her and his hand crept into her dress top. She shivered as he pushed his hand down the loose top and his hand closed around one bra cup.
"Joe, Joe, you really shouldn't...." she began.
He kissed the protest away and a moment later they lay back on the blanket and his hands had found the hook on her bra, pulling it open and worming his hand onto her bare breast.
Joe did go slow after that. But each small step she was ready by the time he was. He undressed her slowly, fondling her gently, letting her search through his clothes, play with him. She hadn't really thought he would go all the way. She insisted that she keep on her dress. But the bra was gone, and when he leaned in and kissed her breasts, she almost climaxed.
She held him and rubbed her hands over his chest, and when he took her hand and put it on the crotch of his pants, she did climax, shaking and trembling and cumming and gasping for breath.
Joe almost left, he was so scared. He'd never seen a girl cum that way before.
She told him it was all right, it was great, and he relaxed.
They had worked higher and higher that night, and Joe said he lost two loads before he finally got her panties off. By then she was ready and she took him and she had cum again, only this time softer, gentler, but just as intense and potent.
Once more they made love on the blanket, then dressed and hurried home before her one o'clock deadline. That was when she decided she was going to marry Joe. His father ran one of the new car auto dealerships in town, and he was a very popular boy on the campus.
But somehow he never asked her out again. She decided she had really scared him with that first climax.
She giggled a lot about it, and she cried when Joe was killed in a car crash just before graduation.
Ruth let herself come back from the memory and saw her hand had moved down to her crotch. She hesitated. Why the hell not?
She rubbed her crotch, feeling the warm, mellow feeling steal over her. Yeah, oh damn, but that felt good!
She moved her hand farther down her leg, working it up, remembering how the boys used to try to get her hot. They'd heard you start on the legs, and they tried it, but that didn't affect her half as much as a nudge against a tit, or a good handful of boobie when the boy got that bold.
She moved over to the couch and lay down, letting her hand lay between her legs. It wasn't that she was so hard up, just that she liked it. Goddamn, did she like it! What would it be like to be married and get fucked anytime you wanted? Wonderful. Great. And maybe give it out when you really didn't want to at first, but then after a couple of minutes of kissing and petting, she'd get in the mood.
Her hand fingered her crotch, rubbing gently on that soft part working harder and harder against her pantyhose. She felt it start to moisten, to get softer and softer, and at last a spot of wetness showed through and she felt it. It gave her a wild thrill.
She moved her other hand to her breasts, up from the bottom, under her blouse and wormed her hand under her bra. She should go without one. It scraped as she forced it up and over her boobies, and one bounced, giving her such a thrill she almost came.
Then she settled down to stroking and dreaming, thinking about the times she'd had cock in her, up her cunt, and a few times up the other hole.
She shivered. Damn, but that had been great. She couldn't remember right then exactly how it felt, but she had gone wild. She must really be sensitive down there.
Her hand stroked her breasts until they blossomed and the nipples rose up and cried out for more attention. She snapped them under her blouse, then stood and ran to her bedroom.
Furiously she ripped off her blouse and the bra. She jiggled her tits at the mirror and laughed. Then she stripped off the rest of her clothes and did a dirty boogie with only the mirror watching her. It was crazy, but she was getting hotter and hotter. She thought of the candle again and shook her head. She wouldn't.
But a moment later she was in the bathroom reaching on the top shelf for the pink candle she had there. She pulled it down and stared at its ten inches. It had never been lighted. She kept looking at the softly rounded base of it and thought how smooth it was, how much like a prick she had seen.
Again she told herself, no, that it wasn't right. She argued, what could it hurt? Then she was walking back to the bed, the candle in her hand.
She lay down and brought the candle up to her lips and kissed it once, then again, and suddenly she believed it was a long, hot prick. Just once wouldn't hurt. Just once!
She lowered it between her legs and teased, rubbing it across her legs, then between them until it touched her soft wet fun spot, and she groaned.
"My God, but that's good, better every time, I could just go on laying here for a week." She blinked, then realized she had said it out loud.
Ruth grinned and stroked her pussy a dozen more times, then spread her legs and lifted her knees and began twanging her old clit. Nobody could do it the way she could. She didn't know why, it must be the angle.
Somehow she forgot about the candle. It had seemed so important a moment ago.
She was getting her steam up. She panted and panted and, before she could detect the exact moment, she was soaring out and away from her body. It was a pure mind freak-out and she let it go, blasting away from the house, away from the city, out over a roaring ocean with rocks battered by crashing waves, and the foam spraying high so it hit her, and made her wet and cool.
Then she was slowing and heading for the water below. It was cold as she entered it, slanting through the wet with amazing speed and not worrying about breathing, watching the fantastic colors of the kelp and the fish.
Then the telephone rang. She had no idea what it was at first. She let it ring, again and again. After the tenth ring, she came alive enough to reach out and grab it.
"Yes, hello?" she said.
She heard nothing but an instant click of the phone being put down. Ruth shrugged.
What a hell of a way to come out of a perfect climax. Damn. It must have been a wrong number. She wouldn't be lucky enough to get an obscene phone call. She never had. She wondered who did that sort of thing.
Ruth got up and took a long, hot shower. She loved to stand in the shower. She'd heard fucking was wild standing up in a shower. Maybe some day she could try it.
CHAPTER THREE
Marty Slawson grinned at Ruth over the small counter in the front of her photo and portrait studio. Marty was the same age as Ruth. She had been married four years and had four kids.
"Hell, they just keep coming. Maybe I should have a talk with mother and find out what causes them," she always said. Marty was fun to be around, and she loved to talk sexy-dirty in mixed company or just with Ruth.
"So I said to this bastard with his hand on my leg, to get it the fuck off there or I'd kick him in the balls. Well, you've never seen a man react so fast. He jerked his hand back and pushed one leg in front of the other one and took off at a run. Hell, I never would have kicked him in the crotch, might damage something I could use. Bet I could have had a good fuck with him, but he chickened out too easy. That's my problem, if I didn't have such big tits, I would have to work harder to get a man, and then I'd appreciate them more when I had one.
"Your husband, Bill, doesn't he mind when you play around?"
"Shit, yes!" she said.
She grinned, made a circle with her thumb and forefinger with one hand, and jammed her first finger in and out of the hole. "But hell, he'll have to catch me first. The sonofabitch just went out on a seven-month cruise again. Goddamn the Navy. Sometimes I wish he got seasick."
"But then you couldn't mess around so much," she said.
"True."
Rob parked his bike in front of the store and came in whistling.
"Hi, Rob. Just a regular clean up in back tonight, I think. We'll take a look at what printing we have to do after I get this nut out of my hair," Ruth said.
Marty laughed and gave Ruth a single forefinger salute.
"You'll get yours, baby!" Marty said. "I sure hope so!" Ruth said, and both of them broke up in a fit of laughing.
"Hey, remember our senior year when we went out with those two damned second stringers on the basketball squad? Then we switched dates? We had those guys so mixed up they didn't know who unzipped their flies." They both broke up again in wild rounds of giggles.
"Hey, did you get fucked that night?" Marty asked.
Ruth took a quick look to be sure Rob had ducked into the back, and then laughed.
"Marty I wish you wouldn't talk so dirty, Rob might hear you," she said.
Marty waved it aside. "Well, did you or didn't you? You never have told me. What's the big secret?"
Ruth giggled. "I was just preserving my reputation. You must've known I got laid. We were gone from the car for almost two hours. That was too long to fight with that horny jock I was with. Remember how big he was?"
"No, I never even saw his prick, how big was it?"
Ruth broke up again and she felt her breasts begin to throb. This woman could get her sexy hot just talking dirty. Marty was something else, that was for sure.
"How'd he fuck you, just regular, or did he have some wild ideas even back then?" she asked.
"Oh, he had some wild kind of ideas, Marty. Like wanting me on top and putting it in my other two holes, but I finally convinced him it was the old twat or nothing. But after we had agreed on everything and got undressed, he got me so hot I sucked him off all the way first. I thought he was gonna go out of his little mind. You should've heard him moaning."
"That's what that noise was. We thought it was some kind of thunder over on that side of the woods."
Ruth took a pretend slap at Marty.
"The invite is still open, Ruth. Why don't you come over to my place for the night? I told you we'd have some friends in, and then a guy called Wade will be sleeping over. He's a wild guy, full of fun." She hesitated, looking up at Ruth. "Frankly it's a shack-up and fuck party. We'll have three couples and mix it all up and even get some group stuff going if you like it that way. Hell, I say let's have a ball while we can still put out good ass fucking, right?"
Rob came in and asked about the prints in the soup. She said if the timer was off, he could put them in the washer. He didn't look as if he had heard any of their talk.
Ruth hesitated, thinking it over. It would be fun to go to a real orgy. It had been about five years since she'd seen anything like that, and then she really hadn't been in the middle of any of the daisy chains. She sighed.
Damn her straight-laced upbringing. It just didn't seem right. Slowly she shook her head.
"No, Marty. I don't think so this time. I'm just not up to that kind of group action, I guess. Maybe just two couples sometime...." she said.
"Crazy, I'll fix you up with some stud and we'll have a wild damn time some of these weekends."
Marty put her hand under her blouse and adjusted one breast in the small sew-in bra cup.
"Well, fuck, I guess I should get on home. Got to get the pad ready, plenty of booze, ice cubes and mixer." She grinned. "Then some good old fashioned Vaseline and vaginal jelly probably wouldn't hurt anything either."
She waved and went out the door.
Ruth sat there for a moment after the well-built redhead had left. Ruth's breasts still tingled. That crazy woman could sure start turning a girl on. Ruth wondered if she was bisexual, if she had started feeling sexy because it was Marty, and if Marty could have undressed her and petted her and made her climax? She sighed. What was she doing thinking about that sort of thing?
That was evil and sinful ... she simply wouldn't think that way any more. Still, it might be worth a try sometime. She giggled as she looked at her appointment schedule.
No more shooting today. It was just after 3:30. Kids sure got out of school early these days.
She turned through the drape over the back door and went through the first studio, past the second and then to the darkroom.
It had a double dark door, one curtained door, then a right angle turn in a dark little passageway and another curtained door. It was a light trap, so someone coming in through the black drapes would not flood the darkroom with raw, white light.
She had to talk with Rob about last night. He was putting the last of the portraits into the washing agitator. It would wash them for thirty minutes in constantly changing water.
He grinned in the pale amber safelight illumination.
"Hi, Ruth. I got most of the cleaning up done. Anything to print?" he said.
"I'm not sure yet, can we turn on a white light?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Nope, paper all over the place, looks like you were cutting up some 11 x 14 sheets."
"Right, I forgot." She stared at him as he lifted the last of the prints from the hypo and dropped them into the wash.
"Rob, I've got to talk to you," she said.
She was relieved when he turned. He sure was big for only being fourteen. She knew she wasn't supposed to hire anyone under sixteen, but he needed the job and ... He was looking at her.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Rob." She started, then took a deep breath. Damn, this wasn't going to be easy. "About last night, Rob."
She could see him tense, expectant or wary, she couldn't tell which.
"Rob, I'm very sorry about that. I don't know what I was thinking of. That just isn't something a lady does. I know, I was trying to be nice to you and to teach you something about girls. But, well, a girl has her reputation to think about...."
"Oh, I'd never tell anybody, Ruth. Honest. I just wouldn't think of ever telling anybody. I guess I caused it all, and I didn't mean to."
"No, Rob, now don't blame yourself. A woman likes to be admired, and touched and petted. It was just one of those things that happened," she said.
She knew she shouldn't, but again she felt her breasts burning. The longer she looked at this big kid, the more she wanted something wildly sexy to happen, maybe not all the way, but a pinch, a feel, a hand between her legs. She sighed.
He would never start it, she would have to, and then what would he think of her? She wanted to reach out and kiss him, to pull him tightly against her and feel his cock surge up and harden and grow. Damn it, she wanted him to fuck her right then.
Rob stood there watching her, not sure what was happening. He could hear her breathing pick up and get faster, heavier, just like yesterday.
Her eyes got that misty look and her lips parted and he saw her tongue tip run around and around her lips, wetting them. Another second of this and his cock was going to start rising. Damn, but she was a sexy woman.
Damn, he wondered if he could take her right there on the darkroom floor. He meant all the way, strip her and play with those big tits and then brush her legs apart and jam his old cock right in there between her thighs, down into that pretty pussy he'd heard the guys talk about.
He moved and let his cock straighten out past his shorts. He was getting a little warm. Without quite understanding why, he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. He felt it tingle as it touched the bare part where her blouse stopped on her arm.
"Ruth, I ... I just wanted to say that what you did for me was just great. I mean nobody else has ever been so kind to me, told me what was what. Know what I mean? I think you're just great, and you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen," he said.
Ruth gave a little groan and stepped toward him. She caught his body and hugged him to her, feeling his arms go around her. Ruth pushed her breasts hard against his chest, glowing with pleasure as they crushed against him. He was just as tall as she was and, when she lifted her chin, she was a fraction of an inch from his lips.
"Oh, Rob, you sweetheart," she said softly. "Kiss me, Rob, the way I showed you yesterday."
He did, and when his tongue moved inside her open lips, Ruth felt every inhibition in her soul melting away. It was a long kiss and she chewed gently on his tongue, then forced hers inside his mouth and he sucked on hers. He leaned back against the developing table and she pushed in hard with her hips against his.
Goddamn, but that felt fucking, sexy good. Kerist, but it had been a long time since she'd felt one jammed up her old cunny. She sucked on his tongue again and then moved one of her hands, found his hand and brought it between them, leaning back a little so he could cover her breast.
His lips came away from hers. "Wow! Holy cats, but you are one sexy lady!"
Ruth wanted to sag in his arms, make him help her out to the couch and rip off her clothes. But she didn't want to scare him. Instead she began pushing and relaxing with her hips against his hips, and soon she felt his prick growing, surging ahead. It felt a lot bigger today. She kissed him again, then put her head on his shoulder.
"Oh, Rob, that's so wonderful. I just go wild when you rub my breast that way. It feels so marvelous! And the way your hips push back against mine. You're a very sexy guy, you know that, Rob? I love the way you touch me," she said.
For a man with any experience, it was a wide-open invitation to fuck her, but he didn't quite understand. He needed more help.
She let go of him for a moment, and pulled at the buttons on her blouse. The fabric was rather heavy, and this morning she had decided she didn't need a bra. It was the first day she had ever been in public without one, and she saw two or three men watching the way her swinging free breasts moved inside her blouse. It was fun!
She opened the last button and pushed his hand inside, then reached for his lips as his fingers closed around her bare, hot, throbbing tit.
"Goddamn!" He moaned as he touched her flesh.
Rob was bewildered, but his prick was pounding so hard he didn't mind. Damn, two days in a row he was going to get his rocks off, and he was going to feel of tits. He was playing with tits right now! He leaned back a little so he had more room, then brought up his other hand.
Her arms were still around his neck, holding her mouth on his, and both of his hands were massaging, rubbing, squeezing, playing with her boobies. Damn, they were big. He'd never seen bare ones that large before. He hadn't seen many, just that one quick look into the girls shower room in the gym, but these boobies were big ones.
He felt his jism coming and he beat it down, he didn't want it to happen yet. Not yet!
Ruth stood there wanting very much to be on her back and naked. She was panting, but the boy wasn't ready yet. She took one of his hands and pulled it down between her legs. She had worn pants that day, the best pair she had. She wondered now if subconsciously she had wanted this to happen when she readied herself for work this morning. She pushed the thought aside and marveled at the tender way his hands crept up her leg toward her crotch.
Oh, but it was great to have a young boy feeling her up. Not rushed or frantic or demanding the way some men got when they were hot. She let him get his hand all the way to her crotch and pressed hard. He hadn't climaxed yet, she was sure.
She broke the kiss and nibbled at his ear for a moment. Then without a word she took his hand and walked out of the darkroom. She wasn't expecting any more business. She buttoned her blouse quickly, pointed to the couch in the second studio, and then went quickly to the front door where she locked it and put the "Sorry Closed" sign up.
As she went back toward the studio she wondered if Rob would be there? Would he be stripped and pumping his cock up and down? Probably not. Would he be sitting on the couch waiting for her? Maybe. Or would he be standing just about where she had left him, not sure about what was going to happen next?
That's where she found him, just inside the door, waiting. She laughed softly and caught his hand and led him to the couch. She opened her blouse and let it slip to the floor, shaking her tits at him until he laughed and reached for them.
Instead she knelt down in front of him and began kissing his crotch and his pants fly. It made him hump his crotch toward her and groan.
Glowing, she sat down on the couch and patted the place beside her.
"Sit down, Rob," she said. "A lot of fun things can happen on a couch."
He sat, his hands going immediately to her boobs. He played with them, snapping her nipples, making them come up hard and tall, glowing and throbbing with each touch.
As he played with her, she unzipped his pants, worked her way through his shorts and at last found his prick. She pulled it out and let out a little cry of joy as she saw it. Almost at once she bent and kissed the side of it, then the very tip.
"Rob, darling."
He looked up.
"Would you kiss them?" she asked, expectantly.
He nodded and bent to his task. As he did she lay back on the couch and he had to stretch partway over her.
She let him chew on her tits for a long time, dreaming dreams, making up fantasies about all the men she had fucked. When the dreams faded, she pulled his head up to her mouth and kissed him, then pushed him away and sat up.
"You cum yet, darling?" she asked.
"He spurted once, I think. But I got plenty more cum in my balls," he said.
"Darling, please help me get out of these." She motioned to her slacks. She always called them pants.
He began working on the snaps and the zipper. She knew she was going to have to help him. It would be worth it.
CHAPTER FOUR
As he worked on the zipper, she played with his hair.
"Darling, you know I'm doing this for you, don't you? I want you to be perfectly happy, to be satisfied. I want to do for you what you want to do. Do you understand?"
He got the zipper down and nodded, then he helped her slide out of the pants.
Rob was bewildered. He never thought her legs would stop coming out of the pants. Her legs were so damned long, and good legs, heavy up on top like a woman's were supposed to be, and her panties! They were so damned thin he could see her black cunt hair right through the material.
Oh damn, was he going to have a chance at last to look at a real pussy? Was he gonna be able to tell the guys he'd seen a cunt, right up close on a woman who wanted him to screw her but there wasn't enough time?
He was still staring at her when she took his hand and lay it between her legs. She had spread those delicious thighs now with their soft, soft flesh, and the top of them, her damn crotch, her pussy!
He almost came just looking at her, then when she put his hand on her very cunt, he felt another spurt of cum, but he held it down. It was so soft, so soft. Kind of squishy and fuzzy and ... well, it was damp.
Maybe she pissed a little, he thought. Maybe she got excited too.
He began rubbing the softness and heard her sighing. She liked it. No, she loved it. She wanted him to fuck her, to go all the fucking way! No, he couldn't believe it, she was old, and must get all the cocks she wanted. Big pricks who could pay her for it even. Here she was paying him, wages at least, as he messed around with her.
"Darling. Rob, darling. Help me get these damned things off, could you please?"
Rob gulped and his hands shook as he pulled down on the flimsy material. Goddamn, fucking sonofabitch! He was gonna get to see her pussy. He was.
Then the panties were down and he was snaking them off her long legs. He stared at her as she slowly parted her legs. There it was, her fucking cunt, not just cunt hair. Where was that pink slit he'd heard so much about?
"Darling, play with me, feel me," she said.
She took his hands and put one on her tits and one on her cunt, and moaned softly.
He probed and explored with his cunt hand. Hair, a lot of thick hair. How did he get through it all? He probed and pushed and drove farther back and then his finger hit a wet place. Wet and soft and ... empty.
"Darling, look at me down there if you want to. That's my pussy, the old fucking hole. Go ahead, take a good look."
He blinked at her a minute, then saw her lift her hips a little and he pushed away from her and slid down so he could see her crotch.
Fuck! There it was, her pussy, all pink and wet and with hair all the way around it and that little part up higher. He smelled her strong cunt odor and touched and heard her sigh. Then he probed and all at once his finger pushed right inside of her! He thought it might hurt her, but instead she laughed.
"Yeah, Rob, you've found the spot, my cunny. What do you think of it?" she asked.
He couldn't talk. He only shivered and felt his hips pound, and before he could stop it, he had spurted cum across her stomach and onto her legs. He heaved his hips once more and shook his head.
"Fuck, I wanted to save it for your pussy."
"Darling, we'll wait ten minutes and you'll be ready again. Go ahead, probe around, push your finger all the way inside me, it doesn't hurt."
He did. For five minutes he pushed and probed and played with her cunt, getting her hotter and hotter. But she was determined to wait him out.
At last she sat up, so on fire she would have eaten his shit if he'd asked her to. She bent low over his crotch and began licking his soft prick.
"Come on, baby, I need you," she crooned to his cock. "Mama needs you big and hard to go into her hot little cunny. Come on, man, get hard, rouse yourself here."
She kissed his dick from soft root to tip, then pulled his softness into her mouth and chewed on it gently. He responded at once, and before she could get his dick unbent, it was hard.
"What shall we do with Mr. Prick now, Rob?" she asked. He shrugged.
"Want me to jack you off?" she asked. "Okay, if you want to," he said. "Want me to suck you off, take it in my mouth until you cum?"
"Well...."
"Or would you rather lay on top of me and push your big cock right up inside my pussy and give me a good old fashioned cunt fucking?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah ... oh, wow ... like yeah!" he said.
"Well, get up there. Get between my legs and push them apart to open up the old twat, then lift up my knees and see if you can find my slot."
He did. He got between her legs, but as he moved up to enter her, he missed.
"No, damn it, that's my asshole. Move up higher."
"Sorry." He laughed and tried again, and this time he felt something give a little. It was wild. His cock seemed as hard as a bamboo stick. He punched it ahead and she told him fine, to go in and out slow for a minute, then a little harder each time, and deeper.
Ruth thought back and realized it had been six months since she'd fucked. Six damned cockless months. She promised herself it wouldn't be that long again ... not now that she had Rob working for her. She grinned at that.
The thought crossed her mind that she was actually paying him wages while he screwed her, but she dismissed it. Where can you hire a stud for a dollar sixty-five an hour?
She felt him drive his boycock all the way in and was disappointed at the depth, but it still felt great, heavenly. Before he started fucking back and forth, she looked at him.
"Well, you're cock's jammed up hard into a woman's cunt at last. How does it feel?" she asked.
"Oh, damn ... wild!. ... Like I want to stay here and fuck you all night. Never stop," he said.
"Now you're starting to get the fucking picture, Rob. An now you earn your fuck. Give me your right hand," she said.
He wormed it between their bodies and got his finger on her clit.
"That's my clit-clitoris. That's the same as a man's prick on a woman. Now, jack me off, push that back and forth and get it going just right and I'll climax, I'll cum. You ever seen a girl climax?"
"Yeah, once on the school bus. This wild bitch was just in front of us and my buddy had his hand around the seat and under her skirt and suddenly she's panting and shivering and shaking like she's going to die or something."
Ruth laughed. "Right there on the bus?"
"Sure, some kids say they do it in the hall during noon hour, but I've never seen anything more than a few tits and balls getting rubbed."
"Things weren't quite that open when I went to school," she said.
"Yeah, I bet."
"Shut up and rub me off, you fucker," she said.
He tried, she almost got there once, then he lost the spot and it took another twenty strokes before she scared him with her eruption of powerful feeling.
Rob lay there, with his cock in this woman and his hand rubbing her clit, when all of a sudden she spilled over and began to shake like a kite in a thunderstorm. He wanted to stop rubbing, but she told him to keep going or she'd kill him. She clamped her mouth over his then, and he couldn't even breathe for a while. She jolted and shivered and twitched, and then she built and built until he was sure she was going to blow apart at the seams.
When she "did detonate, she rolled over so she was on top and humped her hips at him a dozen times using all his cock and pounding him against the couch.
At last she took her mouth off his and sighed.
"Now that was a damned good fuck," she said.
She got him on top again, felt his cock still hard inside of her pussy, and nodded.
"Okay, big cherry stud, go ahead and fuck me till you do your thing," she said.
He started humping into her cunt slowly at first, then he sensed the jism moving down his tubes and he pounded his prick harder and harder until he knew he would die. Just before he did, he spurted his load of hot sticky boycum into her hungry cunt, and it was over. His part had lasted about twenty seconds.
He felt his cock start to go soft and he started to pull it out of her.
Her arms were wrapped fast around his waist and back, pinning him inside her.
"You ain't going nowhere for a fucking minute or two," she said. "Don't get into the habit of fuck and run, girls don't like that unless they're worried about getting caught. We're locked up safe and sound, so just let it soak in your hot cum in there a while."
They both rested, bound securely together. Rob was marveling at it. Two days ago he'd been dreaming about getting a date with a girl in school so maybe he'd have a chance to touch one of her tits, through her clothes of course, a quick feel. But now, damn....
It had been two days he'd never forget. He'd worked here for six months after school, and never once had she let on that she wanted his cock. Now, two days in a row, she was a hard-up old maid, that's what she was. No, she must do more fucking than shooting pictures. He'd wondered about that. But what happened now?
Did he go on working for her, or did she throw him out? Would he ever get the chance to undress her again, to play with those boobies?
He reached up and took one tit in each hand. They felt just the way they had before, hard and soft and warm-no not quite so hot now as they were, but just beautiful.
Five minutes later he lifted his head from her couch and looked down at her.
"I'm starved," he said. "We got anything to eat in here?"
Ruth giggled and let him pull his wilted dick out of her cummy cunt. It had been a very satisfying sex lesson.
"Why don't you run down to that burger joint and bring us back two superburgers with cheese? Take two dollars out of the till," she said.
"Oh, I can buy my own...." he said.
"No, Rob, get two dollars and go down there. Then I can get dressed before you get back."
He had stood up, put his sticky dick away, and zipped up his pants. That was when she realized that he hadn't even taken off his shoes.
Next time she's strip him bare before he got to even touch a tit ... she frowned. Next time! Did she think, did she expect ... did she even dream that she would ever do this again?
She dressed quickly, shaking her head. That was insane. This was not planned, it just happened. She couldn't afford to get caught doing this.
Hell, it was against the law, contributing to the delinquency of a minor at least, and statutory rape at the most. She wasn't about to get into any hassle like that. She would swear right then and there that she would never touch Rob again. Never touch her body to his at any point. That way there could be no trouble.
For just a second she thought of the publicity of a charge of contributing or of rape. If either were proved, she would be in prison, and if she were even charged, she might as well close up shop, even if she were acquitted. Ruth shivered. It would be much better to call up Marty once every two months and let her arrange some swinging party. They could always use another cunt at those affairs, and her body was still in pretty good shape. She looked in the mirror. A little thicker at the waist, but not that much, hips still good, and tits bigger than in high school. She'd do for a fast fuck in that fast company. Yes, that was the answer. This time she simply got too hard up.
She was printing out a batch of portraits when Rob came back with the burgers. She developed the few she had exposed, then went into the front studio and they ate. He'd brought a cup of coffee for her and milk for himself. She smiled at his thoughtfulness, knowing he paid the extra money from his own pocket.
"Ruth, I just want to say thanks for all you've taught me in the last couple of days," he said.
"Rob, I want you to help me here, to stay on in your job. And I never want to hear you mention anything about what happened again. Not to me, not to anyone. You know about a girl's reputation...." she began.
He nodded. "But I loved it ... wow, I've never dreamed of being so lucky, getting to see a beautiful body like yours, and then to touch it, and play with your breasts...." he said.
"Thank you, Rob, but no more talk. I mean it now, no more talk like that. It isn't right. You take out some girls your own age, but don't try to pet them even right away. That's the advanced course that you got a little early," Ruth said.
He grinned. "I know you're right, Ruth, and I'll sure keep my big mouth shut. But, wow, what a wonderful couple of days!"
She got him to shut up about it by asking him to help her print out the rest of the days work. As she did she showed him about negative density and how to judge which paper or which filter to use for the right density of enlargement on the black and white.
They finished in an hour and she put the prints in a tray to wash. She'd come back that night and dry them. Maybe a drink at the bar would get her in the mood.
The bar just down the street didn't help. She saw two fruits talking to each other and feeling up each other's cocks and asses in a booth and she thought she was going to get sick. It disgusted her. She had no logical reasoning for it, but it simply, emotionally and arbitrarily made her angry.
She moved to the bar and got a quick pick-up try by an old drunk who couldn't even see straight. He moved on and Charlie slid onto a stool beside her.
"Hi, Ruth, how's business?" he asked.
She grinned. "Hey, Charlie, moving along. Not getting as rich as you damned florists are." She paused. "Hey, no hard feelings about the other night when I tried to pick you up?"
Charlie ordered a drink and shook his head. "Just regrets on my part. I must have rocks in my head. You've got twice as good a figure as my wife does," Charlie said.
Ruth was on her second drink by then. She laughed, but her voice was soft. "Charlie, I'd trade a figure for a husband any day. You just hang on to her." She finished her drink and got off the stool. "But, Charlie, one good turn deserves another. You want it, I'll give you a rain check on that proposition?"
He turned and stared at her a minute, then down at the way her breasts swayed inside the material. He nodded.
"I'll take that rain check," he said, and turned back to the bar.
She walked out the door and back to the studio. Now why the hell had she done that? Why get involved with people right here on the street? She might as well hang out a sign, "Ass For Sale, Cheap, Clean, Desperate."
She giggled about it as she opened up the shop. It took her an hour finishing the drying and closing up the shop. By the time she got home, she was so exhausted she went straight to bed and right to sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Ruth fixed breakfast the next morning in the house, she was humming to herself. She hadn't even turned on the TV set and the radio as she usually did. All at once she felt so good she wanted to sing. She stopped beating the scrambled eggs and asked herself why?
Her period wasn't due for a week.
She must be at the top of her energy cycle where she was storing up more energy than she was burning up.
She had a good night's sleep.
Then she frowned and came down to it.
Was she feeling so damned good because she had been screwed so well last night?
For just the fraction of a second she wanted to giggle. Then she sobered. Damn it, she wasn't in high school any more. A giggle didn't take care of everything, especially logic. She was thirty-one years old and hurting. She should do something about it.
Women's liberation left her cold. She had been liberated since she was eighteen and what the fuck good had it done her? She would one hell of a lot rather be tied down to a man who would dominate her.
Enough of the high-sounding crap, what about last night and this morning? Why did she feel so good?
Chance. Everything just bunched up together. Sure she was relaxed and some of her special tensions gone because she knew she could still excite a man, because she knew a man still excited her and because she had been well fucked and climaxed like a roaring steam engine. That was bound to take some of the pressure off.
It wasn't the store. She didn't let that get to her. She took the business that came, made a comfortable living, but just didn't push much down there. There was enough money to buy a new car every two years like her father had done, to pay the bills and the taxes and wages for Rob. What more did she need?
No, don't put it that way. What she needed was a big hairy man with a foot-long cock bending over her every night.
Ruth spun around, dumped the scrambled egg mix into the frying pan and snapped on the radio. She was thinking too much, that never had been any good for her. It was like her history professor told her her senior year. She should smile more and swing her ass a little more and relax.
He'd told her that one day when she stayed after class to ask him about something to do with the civil war. It had been the last class of the day and everyone else streamed out of the room.
She went to his desk to ask a question and he told her to wait just a moment and went to the door, closed and locked it. That gave her just a touch of fear, but when he came back he was smiling.
"Ruth, I've been worried about you. Your grades have been slipping," he said.
He was a big hairy man. She'd seen him in the student-faculty basketball game, and with his shirt off he looked like a hairy ape, black hair on his chest and back and even his sides and his arms. It stuck out from under his shirt sleeves.
She didn't know what to say to him.
"Ruth, what I wish you would do is relax a little, don't be so up-tight all the time," he said. "I've seen you in the hall. A boy comes up and tries to put his arm around you and you give him an elbow in the ribs."
She hadn't realized it then, but he was using a line on her, the pretty-girl-should-relax line.
"You don't have as many dates as you should. Don't push them away. For instance you don't wear a padded bra, do you?" he asked.
She had been surprised, and showed it, but she said she didn't.
"Why not?" he said. "An extra inch on the bust line makes the guys notice you twice as much. And boys really do like big tits."
He had watched her reaction when he used the word. She giggled. He took her hand and spun her around so her skirt flared.
"Good legs, can't be that," he said. He pulled her toward him. "Pretty skin, nice face, good little ass. Are you a good kisser?"
Before she knew what had happened, he pulled her against him and kissed her, his tongue plowing past her lips and teeth, digging deep inside her mouth. She had fought him for just a second, then tried to relax. But he was the history teacher!
When the kiss ended, he grinned.
"Now that wasn't so bad was it?" he asked. "Ruth, have you ever been to bed with a boy?"
She shook her head no automatically, although she had been fucked twice. Why should she tell him?
"You ever seen what a man's sexual organs look like, I mean up close?" he asked.
Again she shook her head, afraid to scream, not knowing what to do.
His hand covered her breast and he began to rub. She felt the pressure through her blouse and bra. Before she knew it the pressure felt good and right.
His voice broke a little as he went on.
"Ruth, how would you like an 'A' in history for the semester, inspite of what you do this last month of school?"
She nodded.
"I don't need to tell you I'll deny anything you say, so just keep quiet, right? Take your 'A' and a couple of thrills and mark it up to part of your education," he said.
The room had only three high windows. The door was locked, and he went over and put a chair under the handle.
She figured out he'd done this before.
When he came back he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.
She gasped. It was huge and long. She'd never seen one in the daylight before, just a quick look and then the others had been inside her cunt.
"Go ahead, feel him, play with him. He likes it," he said.
She reached out slowly and touched his cock, then realized he had his hands under her blouse. He unhooked her bra and a moment later his hands were on her bare breasts.
"Oh, no," she said softly.
"Yes, yes," he said. He grinned at her. "You feel me and I feel you."
He lifted up her blouse and bra, bunching them around her throat so he could see her tits.
"Yeah, now they are good," he said. "They always looked good under that blouse, but you never can tell."
Ruth stood there almost paralyzed with fear.
What if someone should come in? What if someone found them? She would blame him.
That's what she would do. She'd get him thrown right out of school, out of teaching.
Then his cock started getting hard and she was fascinated.
It was so big, and so big around. She gripped it hard and found her hand just barely went all the way around the shaft. The tip was purple and red and the hole in the head gaped.
That's where the semen came from, the cum juice, the stuff that could make a girl pregnant. She frowned, and wondered what his balls looked like. What did the books call it? His scrotum.
She bent and opened his belt, letting his pants fall, then pulled down his long style shorts and looked at his cock again. His balls were hairy, as wildly hairy as the rest of his body. Gently, she caught the big sack and held it.
"Easy, Ruth, very easy," he said.
As she played with his cock and balls she felt him rubbing her crotch. It felt good. She wondered what else he had in mind, surely not laying her right there in history class.
She found out very quickly. He pushed her panties down until he could play with her cunt, then he groaned. His finger stabbed into her pussy as far as he could reach and his hips pounded once.
His voice turned husky. "Think you could jack me off for that 'A' grade?" he asked.
She didn't trust her voice. She'd heard how the boys did it. Slowly she began pumping up and down on his big cock. As she did he moved his finger to her clit and hit it several times. She felt her own climax surging forward, but he stopped, waiting until she could get his cock and balls there too.
He was thrusting his hips against her hand and finally he forgot about her clit. He pushed her back against the wall and shoved his big cock between her legs.
She started to open them but he pulled them closed and kept on humping into her thighs, his prick sliding in and out between her almost closed legs. He went faster and faster, and it started to hurt, but then he groaned and panted and sucked in air between his teeth as his hot sticky cum spurted four, five, six times. She felt it shoot past her legs and hit on the wall behind her. Some of it splattered hot and sticky on her legs.
When he stopped ejaculating, he dropped to his knees and pushed her legs apart. His face went right into her cum-coated crotch and he felt his tongue touching her juicy clit, then her teenage pussy, and a moment later he pushed his tongue right into her steaming cunt!
She climaxed, squirting him with juice and moaning loudly, letting the spasms shoot through her until they shook her to pieces.
When it was all over, he grinned and stood up.
"Ruth, I knew you could cum," he said. "Damn, I just knew you were a sexy little witch. Nothing gets my rocks off faster than messing around with a sweet little darling like you."
He wiped the pussy juice off of his face with his handkerchief, then gave her two tissues to clean her cunt up with. At last he helped her slip up her panties and settle her breasts in the bra cups.
His well-used prick still hung outside of his pants, drooping and nearly dead now.
As Ruth buttoned her blouse again, she stared at him. He had put himself together, even straightened his tie.
"How many girls are getting 'A' grades this semester?" she asked.
He laughed. "No way I'm gonna tell you that," he said. "More than just one, though. Remember I asked you if you wanted an 'A'? Well, you just earned part of it. You need two more private lessons to get that good 'A' grade."
"You promised...." She stopped as soon as she began.
"That 'A' could just as quick turn into a 'D', remember," he said.
Ruth sighed. "Same type of course each time?"
He grinned. "Pretty much, unless you get hungry."
She turned, grabbed her books and ran to the door.
Ruth laughed about it now. She wondered how many girls that old sonofabitch had molested? Somebody got rid of him four or five years later. Three girls had gotten together and their combined testimony had been enough to launch an investigation.
His home was loaded with swap club material, and sex implements of all kinds. He also rented out pornographic films, and that was what they nailed him on. Poor old sonofabitch. He should never have tried to be a school teacher.
Ruth worked through the day as usual, with a little better mood than in some weeks. She actually argued with one old woman and put her foot down about reshooting.
"I've taken thirty-two different poses of you for that portrait, Mrs. Sampson," she said. "If you don't think they're good enough, you can just take your business somewhere else."
Mrs. Sampson had winced slightly and made a selection of poses at once.
At three-thirty she kept looking at the front door, but all the time telling herself that Rob wouldn't be coming. Every time the door opened, she turned with a smile, but each time it was a customer.
She was busy until closing time, then looked at the stack of developing she had to do beside the printing and wished that Rob were there to help her. He was developing into a good darkroom technician, even if she had trained him herself.
He'd had a band practice late that day, he'd said.
At six she threw down the black rubber apron and went to the bar down the street for a drink. At the last minute she changed her mind and crossed the street to a little restaurant. Inside she had just sat down at a booth for two when someone walked up.
"Charlie. Well, surprise! Having dinner out?" she asked.
"Just a sandwich, I'm working late. A damn wedding," he said.
"May the bird of Bartwicch fly up your nostril sideways, Charlie. Never put down a wedding," she said.
"It's not yours, don't worry about it," he said. "Can I sit here with you? I hate to eat or drink alone."
She nodded.
He brought over his half-eaten sandwich and cup of coffee.
A half hour later they both had finished eating and were working on a second cup of coffee.
"So how goes your sex life?" Charlie asked. She laughed.
"Charlie, you're so damned honest," she said. "How did you ever get married anyway? Your wife must be a saint."
"True. So I'm asking again. How is it going?" he said.
She wanted to make a smart crack about in and out, but she couldn't. She frowned. "Not the best, Charlie."
He stirred his coffee. "Maybe I could help out." She looked at him, he wasn't kidding, he was serious.
"You mean, maybe...?" she began.
"I'm picking up that rain check." He leaned closer. "Little sweetheart, I think you need me to pick it up," he said.
Ruth nodded. If he put it that way, she couldn't refuse. It might be nice getting dicked by a guy with some experience, not a fuzzy-faced kid. She just hoped she wouldn't close her eyes and see Rob all through it.
There was nothing unusual about Ruth going into her studio at night with customers. She did a lot of later-hour shooting. She and Charlie walked to her door, she opened it and let him go in first, then she went inside and turned on the lights in the first studio. Those lights were visible from the street.
At the second studio, she went in with Charlie and locked the door.
He looked at her. "Ruth, do you want me to tell you how beautiful you really are?" he asked.
She sat down on the couch and shook her head.
"Don't lie to me, Charlie," she said. "Ten years ago I was good looking, at least. Now I'm getting old. If you like my big tits, tell me that."
He sat down beside her and began undressing her.
He reached over and kissed her lips. For a moment neither of them moved. Then he shrugged.
"Nothing, I'm sorry. I'm not much of a seducer," he said.
She wanted to laugh and tease him. Instead it came out like a threat.
"But I bet you've got a big cock," she said.
"Men can compare tits. That's easy. Only women can compare the size of a cock."
He took off her blouse and discovered she wore no bra again today and was glad. Her breasts were good, heavily nippled, with big pink circles around them. Good tits, made to be sucked on.
He bent and kissed them and she murmured her approval. He leaned over her and gently pushed her down on the couch, then began chewing on her breasts, each in turn, each on a programmed course.
As he worked over her tits, he marveled at how big they were, how supple, how strong. There was no sag at all. She should have a kid, two or three of them. Charlie wondered if she was feeling his ministrations. She wasn't breathing any harder now than in the restaurant.
He reached for her crotch, but she caught his hand. Ruth stroked his head, then sat up. His hand was under her skirt where she held it away from her leg.
"Charlie, I'm sorry, but it's not my night," she said. "I just can't get excited tonight. Women do that sometimes, it's strictly emotional, some kind of a damned reaction."
CHAPTER SIX
He watched her, his eyes reflecting his vulnerability.
"I'm sorry, Charlie, a horse's cock wouldn't move me tonight," she said.
She moved his hand from under her skirt and quickly unzipped his pants fly. His cock was hard behind it, she had seen that as soon as they stepped into the studio.
"But just because I'm on the damn shelf is no reason you have to suffer," she added.
He started to say something but she stopped him.
"Charlie, it's my party, right? My office, my couch, and I've got the dice," she said.
She worked inside his pants until she could get a good hold on his prick. Yes, it was hard and throbbing. Damn it, men were like stud dogs, they could cum any time they found a bitch with her tail up.
She unbuckled his pants and took them off him after she had removed his shoes. Then she slid down his shorts. He wasn't a hairy ape, but he did have quite a bit of pubic hair. For just a moment she felt a surge of hot blood, but it faded quickly. She lifted his knees and pushed them apart, then started licking his balls, working up to his good prick. Before she got there, his knees began to jerk.
"Oh, God, no, not yet," he moaned.
But before he could stop it, and before Ruth could lift up to get her mouth over his hose, the traitor squirted, pumping hot sticky jism into the air and then into her hair.
Five shots of cum later, she got on top of it, but by then it had dropped to a droozle that she licked up and then kissed the six inches of man muscle which had already began to wither.
"Goddamn fucking thing," Charlie growled. "What a great time to act like a teenage kid."
She wiped her mouth and kissed his forehead.
"That's all right," she said. "Next time I'll feel better and so will you, and well make a better go at it."
"You mean we can try again, I mean after such a lousy start?" he said.
"It's never very good the first few times," she said. "Next time you feel that itch, you just call."
Ruth helped him dress, and right then she felt like a real whore. She had promised him some sex, so he got some, no matter how she felt. Just keeping the customers happy. Making sure the tricks get their rocks off.
She wanted to throw up. For just a minute she didn't think she could hold anything down, then he stood up, and she knew she had to too.
She put on her blouse and felt better, she didn't know why.
He let her show him where the back door was to her shop, and a few doors down he could go in his back door. They both had work to do.
"Damn it, Ruth, I don't know how I got so messed up," he said. "I guess it's just seeing those beautiful tits of yours. They turned me on like sixty. I mean they are great."
She thrilled for a moment, smiled and let him out, then locked the door behind her.
She sighed. Work, there was quite a bit to be done for tomorrow.
She walked toward the darkroom, paused and walked right on by.
"Fuck all you people coming in tomorrow," she screamed. Let them wait a day. She laughed and went on by the darkroom, then remembering she went back and lifted the developed cut film from the wash and hung it all up to dry.
No sense in ruining that work, just have to do the sittings over again.
The next day Rob would be there to help her. She nodded to herself as she locked the front door and walked to her car.
Slowly she went back over the day. It had started out so great when she got up. She was singing!
Now she felt like jumping off a bridge somewhere.
She frowned and thought about that again as she drove. Was she really to that point? Had she actually thought that, or was it a figure of thought? She went over it again. No, there with Charlie she had despised herself. She should have told Charlie to go take a flying fuck at his rose bushes or his daffodils.
What the hell was the matter with her? She had been coasting along on an even keel until ... until when? The day before yesterday when she had sexually assaulted an underage male.
Hell, he had loved it. So? So what? It was illegal as hell, and she knew it at the time. But it felt wonderful. And when he had actually fucked her yesterday, it had put her in eleventh heaven. So what did all that add up to, Mr. psychiatrist?
She wished she knew.
That night at home, Ruth read the sexiest book she could think of. All she had was Portnoy's Complaint. It was all about this Jewish kid jacking off. It bored her, it was dumb and silly and, most of all, dull.
She went to sleep without a pill.
Morning came and the alarm rumbled and she got up and tried to get ready for work. Dull. That's what she was, her whole life was one bit long fucking chunk of dullness.
She could get rid of that. First thing when she got to the office, she'd call Marty and have her come down. She would deliberately provoke Marty and they would find out once and for all if Ruth-baby was bisexual with Lesbian tendencies. Hell, maybe she liked women better than men.
The office was a mess for three hours, then she got the people straightened out and her sittings shot as well as handling the front desk. Maybe she needed some help, she was working too hard.
About one o'clock she phoned Marty and she stopped by on her way downtown shopping. There was no one in the office, so they moved back to the first studio where they could hear anyone coming in the front door.
Briefly Ruth laid out what happened the night before, the total disaster.
Marty went of her at once.
"Oh, you poor baby," she said. "I've felt that way, too. You were lucky you had a man you could handle."
Ruth began to cry, letting the frustration flood out. Marty took her in her arms, comforting her.
Ruth felt a sudden surge of emotion as the woman's arms came around her. She turned her tear-streaked face toward Marty.
"Do you think I'm a Lesbian?" Ruth asked.
"No, of course not. Every woman gets turned off now and then" she said. "Hell, some days I don't even want to fuck."
"Pet me, Marty. I've got to know if it excites me. Start to seduce me. You said you'd been that route a few times," Ruth said.
Marty hesitated, then ran to the front office and locked the door, flipping the closed be-back-in-an-hour sign into place.
Back in the first studio, she held out her arms for Ruth.
Ruth went to her, looking at her body. She did have big tits. Then Marty was caressing her, making her hands go up and down Ruth's body, stopping at one breast, toying with it, rubbing it, harder, then softly.
Marty reached out and kissed Ruth's cheek, then her neck. Now her hands had worked under Ruth's blouse and closed around the warming breasts.
For a moment Ruth let her emotions roll. Hands on her breasts felt like any other hands there, they felt good, warm, and sweet as the warm blood flowed. Her nipples were rising.
Before she could think farther, Marty took Ruth's hand and slid it under her blouse and up on Marty's big breasts. Ruth held back at first. She had never touched another woman's breasts. Then she was curious, so she rubbed and massaged them, petted them as she had her own, but it curiously did not move her, it meant nothing.
Marty turned her and brought her hand up between Ruth's legs. Ruth spread them a little so the hand caressed her private spot, but there was no surge of emotion, no overpowering blood rush of lust.
Marty moved again and pressed her lips hard on Ruth's, working her tongue against Ruth's teeth, then inside her mouth. After a few moments Marty pulled away from Ruth. The women looked at one another.
Slowly Ruth began to smile.
"Nothing," she said with relief. "I felt no sudden sexual pleasure from your hands or your mouth."
"Right," Marty said. "But let me sit down a little and cool off. You got my old blood boiling." She laughed. "At least we know you're not a Lez."
Ruth gave a big sigh of relief and adjusted her blouse.
"Boy, am I glad to know that. When's your next sex party? I want to come," she said.
"You got to promise to cum if you come," she said.
"Hell, I'll participate, at least one on one," she said.
"Great, I'll set up a three-couple deal for this Saturday night," she said.
"And this is Thursday," she said. "I should be able to hold out until then."
Marty left soon after that and Ruth went to the phone and called a personnel agency where a friend worked. She put in an order for one counter girl, about eighteen, to help behind a portrait studio counter with film and photo finishing.
That done, she unlocked the door and was just working on a batch of enlargements when the buzzer sounded announcing someone coming in the front door.
She went out a moment later, picked up a new sitting for a family of five and got it entered in her book. For some reason she set the appointment in mid-afternoon. She didn't want anything after four o'clock. She gave no reason to the customer and none to herself.
by three-thirty she was in the front waiting and caught sight of Rob coming down the hill on his bike. He waved and wheeled into his parking space beside the front window and padlocked his ten-speed to a pipe.
"Hi, Ruth. Lots to get done today?" he asked.
She smiled and nodded. He was a hard worker, she had to admit that.
"Clean up first, then we have a double load of printing to do," she said.
He vanished into the back and, after fifteen minutes, she went back to see what he was doing. He had checked on the order envelopes and was trying to enlarge some black and white passport photos.
"Not bad," she said over his shoulder, scaring him. He jumped backward, bumping into her breasts.
He spun around. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you, especially there," he said.
She had unconsciously rubbed the spot across the tops of both her breasts where he had hit her.
"It didn't hurt," she said.
He let out a big breath.
"Whew, I'm glad of that," he said. "I especially wouldn't want to hurt your breasts. Beautiful, simply ... wow, just wild."
She glowed. Ruth knew she was smiling, so pleased she wanted to kiss him. But that would simply start something again. They did have work to do.
She helped him print the rest of the passport shots, then they worked together, she exposing, and he working up the developed prints of both the color and black and white work they had to do. It had taken her almost a year to put in her own processing plant for color, but now she was glad she had. About ninety percent of all her work was color now.
They worked for an hour with only one interruption, and at five o'clock she put up the closed sign and they took a break.
"We've got an hour's more work. Want to go get some burgers?" she asked him.
He nodded. She told him to take as much money as he needed from the till, and did another series of prints before he got back.
As they ate the burgers and Cokes, he told her about the band, and how this guy right ahead of him wasn't so good and he was going to challenge him for his chair, so he could move up toward solo trumpet. He was on second part now.
Ruth loved to listen to him talk. Her heart seemed to pound just a little faster, and her eyes danced as she watched him. She wanted to brush the lock of hair back out of his eyes, and every time he looked at her, she took a sudden little breath. Ruth didn't try to evaluate it, or name it.
She was just going to live it as long as she could, and as fully as she could.
"What you been doing today?" he asked.
She started to tell him about the new clerk she was going to hire, but then decided to wait and see if it worked out. The agency might not find anyone she liked.
She told him about the business, how it seemed to be growing. Soon he was talking about school things again.
They had left the darkroom to eat their dinner, and the second studio was closest. She sat on the couch and he on a little bench they used for portraits. He finished his burger and came over to sit beside her. As he sat down, the couch bumped them together and they both laughed.
When the couch settled down, its old springs had put his thigh pressing against her thigh. He looked up at her and smiled.
She closed her eyes for just a moment, letting the surge of emotion speed through her.
"Hi, Rob," she said.
"Hi, Ruth."
'"That kind of goes together, doesn't it, Rob and Ruth?" she said.
"We're both a couple of R's" He hesitated.
"Could I ask you a favor?"
She nodded, afraid to ask what it was. "Could I kiss you?"
She held perfectly still. How could she tell him not to? Was there any way she possibly could bring herself to ask him not to kiss her?
Then the whole idea was academic, his lips met hers and his body swayed toward hers. Before she could cry out or signal a protest, her own body betrayed her and her lips nibbled at his, and before she really knew what happened, she had leaned her breasts against his chest and closed her eyes and slowly her mouth opened for his tongue.
She felt his arms come around her, felt her body will itself to surge sideways and lay down on the couch.
He came with her and a moment later lay hard on top of her, his big gangling frame pressing against her tits. She loved it.
Just don't ever let me move, she prayed silently to her unknown God, but she knew it was impossible. She moved a little so his arms would have room, and then a little more, and at last she took his hand and put it where it covered one of her breasts.
There was no way to understand how she felt.
Her whole body was alive. Every cell was burning with desire, with anticipation, every thought in her foggy brain was urging her to make love to this marvelous young man. Every particle of her being urged her to live for now, for today.
He moaned softly and took his mouth from hers. He leaned away just a little and massaged her breast harder. Then he sat over her and both hands found her tits and he played with them eagerly.
She had worn pants again and a heavy blouse, and when his hands crept under it, she captured the hand, but instead of turning it back, she pushed it higher, onto her bare breast.
He pushed back so he could see her clearly.
"You know, there's nothing I'd rather do than this, right here, right now," he said. "To feel of your boobies is just about the most."
She smiled, and pulled one hand lower-to her crotch.
"Darling, Rob. I know one thing you like even better," she said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ruth lay there letting the surge of emotion spill over her.
Fantastic! Tremendous! It was so wonderful she hardly dared to breathe. She was afraid it would shatter and vanish. Then his hand at her crotch began to move and she let her legs drift apart. Oh, yes! God, but that felt tremendous. Why couldn't she just lay around fucking all day?
She helped him take off her blouse. It buttoned up the back, and then she sat there as he nibbled around her breasts, and at last gulped as much of one hanging orb into his mouth as he could, chewing until she let out a little yelp of delightful pain. At once he came off her breast and kissed her soft lips.
It was at that precise moment the thought stabbed into her consciousness that she had promised herself that she would never touch this young boy sexually again, that she would hold herself away from him so she wouldn't corrupt him any more than she already had.
Ruth wanted to scream out her frustration. How could she deny herself, deny him? How when he was sucking on her tits, kissing her, and his hand was rubbing at the crotch of her pants, wanting inside?
She couldn't. That was simply the only answer that she could come up with that her crotch wouldn't veto. She couldn't deny this pair of hands and wonderful young prick a thing. Right then she knew she would do absolutely anything he wanted her to.
She tasted his soft lips again, then leaned back on the couch, wanting to be lying down, wanting to be on her back. She pulled at his pants until he unzipped them for her and then she stripped him, her eager hands pulling down his trousers, then his shorts.
She gave a soft little yelp of desire when his stiff little boycock snapped out of his tight shorts. She wanted to hold it, to cuddle it, to pull it into her mouth and suck him dry. But she held back, being sure she got his shirt off so he was as bare-assed as the day he was born.
She drank in his body, marveling at the smooth perfection, without scar, without blemish, only a few hairs starting to dot his chest, and a good crop of pubic hair at his youthful crotch.
Ruth marveled again at his clean, sleek, excited penis. It was the most thrilling, tremendous cock she'd ever seen. Not that it was the biggest. She sighed and reached for his prick. It jerked as she touched it and she realized he was very excited. She'd wait a few minutes.
Slowly she slid down her pants and then her panties until she was bare, and then she smiled at him.
"You like this, all of me?" she asked.
"Oh, wow! Like crazy. I dream about you every night," he said. "And then I wake up and it's just a dream and I can't wait to get down here and see you again. And then when I touch you, it's like I'm jacking off without even touching my prick, know what I mean?"
"Would you like to touch me now, Rob?" she asked.
"Goddamn!"
Rob could hardly believe what was happening. For the past six months he had been watching her, dreaming about her big tits. Once or twice he had pressed against her in the darkroom, so his shoulder had been right on her breast, but she hadn't noticed. Or at least he didn't think she noticed. Damn, maybe she had, and she kept getting more and more worked up.
Once he had been cleaning up when she had been in her number two studio changing clothes. She was going out or something. He had been quiet and he saw her pull off her blouse. He thought she was gonna take her bra off, too. But she didn't. The way her boobies stuck out in those cups made him get a hard-on in a flash. He stood there in the curtained doorway to the darkroom, his boycock thumping in his pants.
She couldn't see him. Stretching up, she had pushed her breasts out so far he thought she'd topple over. Then she pulled off the pants she wore and he could see her nylon panties and even a splotch of black cuntal hair under them.
That was the first time he whipped out his dick and jacked off in the store. After that he got his rocks off once a week or so, usually after leaning against her in the darkroom.
Now he watched her standing in front of him, naked and inviting, and he knew he was gonna get another wicked fuck.
Goddamn! Wait until he told Mumford. That bitch would never believe him. She said nice girls didn't pet, they kissed maybe, but nothing below the neck. She could shove it up her ass, he had himself a real live, fucking woman now.
Rob began kissing her-first her tits, then down her belly, and he heard her breathing faster as he came toward her crotch. He kissed all the way around it, then he pushed apart her legs and he felt her trembling.
"Oh, God, Rob, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Just trying to make you feel good. Doesn't that feel good, Ruth?" he asked.
"God, yes, Rob darling," she said. "Oh, yes!"
He kissed up her soft, white thighs, watching the muscles quiver, listening to her breath come in panting gasps now as he moved closer and closer to her crotch. He came to the first hairs and she was moaning, her hips humping forward slightly. He bore in, deeper and deeper into the jungle of cuntal hair until he sniffed her strongly scented sex center.
He parted the hairs of her pussy and ran his finger around her cunt. She trembled and shook. He leaned in and planted his lips directly on her red, swollen, soft cuntal lips and the woman standing over him screeched in the joy-pain of a hard climax.
She rumbled and shook, and bounced and almost fell down. He caught her and kissed her fragrant cunt once more. She did fall down this time, stretching out on her back on the couch, her hips humping up to meet an imaginary cock as she slashed through the end of a mammoth climax.
As she trembled her last and lay still, he lay beside her, but she pulled him over on top of her, searching with her hands for his throbbing boy cock.
"Darling, that was so good, just fantastic," she said. "You know how good it is, you know. Just great. Now let me do something good for you."
She pulled him toward her crotch. He hesitated then went ahead, this would be fine for the first time. He nosed down and slanted toward her foaming cunt.
Damn, but she was fucky!
He wondered what it would be like to be married to some hot-cunt wench like this one, to come home every night to a pair of bouncing tits and wide open and wanting snatch. It would kill him in a year.
He remembered when he had tried to jack off every day for two weeks. He made it through twelve days behind the garage on Front Street, but then he and two other guys crapped out, even with that book of pictures showing all the ways to fuck. He looked, and looked at it that last day, but couldn't get anything to cum. Lason made it all the way to the two-week point and won the ten-dollar jerk-off pool they had formed.
He stared down now at the pale whiteness of the woman's body. Strange how pale she was, except for the black hair at her crotch. She raised her knees and spread them, giving him a target. He saw the pink slash of her drooling cuntal mouth and pushed down toward it.
Again he missed on his first thrust, but she helped him and the second time his big hard boycock nosed into her. This time it went in easier, and he decided it might have been a long time since she'd had a lover, a fucker.
He grinned as he poured on some power and jammed his cock hard into her super-slick pussy. Dry skin scraped on dry skin and he knew he'd have a sore spot there tomorrow, like when he jacked off too hard and forgot to use Vaseline to lube his dick with. He didn't care.
Damn, but that felt good, his old hard cock sliding into her fiery cunt. There was only one better feeling, and that was about to happen. He didn't see how a guy could keep his cock in a girl's cunt very long without blasting off in her. He cum so quick. But he'd just have to do it two or three times. Yeah!
Just as he thought of it, the back of his hips contracted and his cock shot forward as he tried to plant his fresh hot boyfuck seed deep, deep down in her spasming cunt.
Ruth felt him cumming and, before she knew what happened, she had twirled off into another violent climax. Not a thing had touch her clit, she couldn't understand it, but only for a millisecond did she question it.
She had turned into a butterfly, flitting from flower to blossom to bloom, sucking sweet nectar from everything that flowered. It was beautiful. Then she saw a small man child, and flew to him but he had grown into a youth by the time she arrived, so she sat on his shoulder and he laughed at her and teased her and she saw he was Rob.
She tried to tell Rob who she was, but she was too late, or he couldn't understand, or he didn't want to. Too late she realized that maybe he didn't want to recognize her, and his hand came down hard on his shoulder and she felt the crushing blow crumple her wings, then her body, and crush the life out of her head.
Ruth groaned as she came out of the mini-trance, shaking her head. It had been so real, and Rob had been real, and she had died, she was certain of it.
What the hell did that mean?
Did it have some kind of symbolic significance? Did it mean anything, anything at all? Or was it simply the joy of her second climax of the day boiling within her greedy, cock-loving cunt and flooding her mind with every pleasant sex thought?
Then why her death? And why Rob being vicious to her?
She pushed it all out of her mind and held his cock inside her pussy as tight as she could.
Ruth hoped that this moment would never end. It couldn't have been more than two or three minutes later when she felt him stirring over her. He was so energetic, so full of power and vigor!
"Rest, Rob," she said. "Rest and we'll have another play time. You want to do it again? Want to fuck again some other way?"
"There's another way?" he asked, amazed.
"About fifty different positons, all sorts of ways," she said.
"And different holes?" he asked.
"Yes, Rob, when you're ready for that," she said.
"I'm ready."
"I'm not," she said and laughed. "No, Rob, not that yet, just relax, you're not about to die off of old age without experiencing all the fancy fucking you can handle."
Rob lay there, feeling his cock shrivel up inside her cunt.
It was wild. He was damn sure going to tell Clif about this. That was one guy who could keep his mouth shut.
Clif told him about that aunt of his who gave him a little sex lesson one afternoon when her husband was out hunting. She'd let him look at a tit and then feel it and watched him jack off. But that was all. And the aunt hasn't even looked at Clif since. She's afraid, they decided.
Clif said he and Rob should go visit her sometime when her husband was bowling. She was only about thirty-five or so, and really stacked, Clif said. He could tell Clif about Ruth without any problems. He just had to tell somebody.
He pressured her arms again and she let him pull up and ease his dick out of her cummy pussy. Oh, the sense of loss when that warm body left hers, and that hot prick slid out, even though it was getting soft.
She lay there a moment, then went to the little bathroom behind the darkroom. When she came back, he had the modeling lights on and a camera loaded.
"Hey, let me take some naked pictures of you, okay?" he asked.
She watched him. He'd probably peddle them all over school, get caught and expelled. She shouldn't. But the way he grinned and scratched his boyish balls, she couldn't refuse.
"Only if you don't show my face," she said.
He laughed. "Great, I can shoot girl's faces any time," he said. "Tits are harder to come by."
She helped him with the poses, some rather good with her draped around a chair, one with a close up on her breasts hanging down with her on her hands and knees.
After about thirty shots on the Nikon, she pulled him back down on the couch.
"Hey, how about putting your model to better use?" she asked.
He laughed and kissed her.
"Get on your hands and knees on the couch," he said.
She gave him a surprised look, then did as he asked.
Rob slid under her hanging breasts and began to chew on them. She dropped down lower to completely fill up his mouth with tit and she giggled.
"Eat a little, Rob," she said. "Have your dessert. That ice cream cone is chocolate, the other one is cherry."
He sucked and chewed and played with the other tit with his hands. A few moments later he came away and pushed her on her back.
"Hey, how about a dog-fuck?" she asked.
"A what?"
"You've seen dogs screwing on the lawn haven't you?" she asked. "You know, where one dog mounts the other one from behind, has his paws up on her back?"
"Sure, the kids gather around and yell, 'Fuck, fuck'," he said.
"Want to try it that way?" she asked. "How?"
"Me on my hands and knees," she said. "You come up behind just like a dog and pump it into my slit, my cunt. It's wild. I guess primitive man fucked that way all the time."
"Wild, let's try it. My old prick is hot to go," he said.
She bent and kissed his cock, licking it, tasting the salty, muskiness of his cum still on his stick. She moved to her hands and knees and let her shoulders drop to the couch so she could watch him behind her.
He had trouble finding her slot, trouble getting at just the right height. At last he bent his knees, stood on his feet, and lowered himself down to the level. His front thighs pushed against the inside of her thighs.
When he first touched her cunt she yelped, then laughed and groaned.
"Yeah, right on, man, right in," she said.
He moved his pulse-pounding boycock into her gently, then tried to raise up a little and she yelped.
"Don't move that way, you'll rip me wide open!" she said.
He stopped. A moment later he had some sort of stance he could maintain.
"Bend over me and grab my tits," she said. "They feel kind of left out."
He did, getting one in each hand, then starting to pump his dick. He drove it into her cunt a dozen times and Ruth thought for sure she was about ready to cum again-. Then he yelped and lost his footing and fell, pulling his juice-stick prick out of her pussy and dropping off the narrow couch.
They both broke up into a fit of laughter, and by the time he got back into position, she had lost the touch of her cum.
But it didn't take him long. The second time he found the slot and the rhythm, he was prick-pounding her pussy hard. He shot his wad of fresh hot boycum and gave a yell worthy of a Cheyenne warrior.
"What the hell do we do now?" he asked.
She turned and grinned, laughing at him. It was ludicrous. He stood spraddle legged and spent, she on her knees with her penetrated ass high in the air and her shoulders on the couch.
They broke up laughing again as he took his empty dick out of her cummy cunt and rolled beside her on the couch.
As he laughed, she bent down and licked his cock clean.
He stared at her. "Goddamn, now that is sexy," he said. "Licking your own cum juices and mine and swallowing the damn stuff."
She looked up, grinning, kissed him and licked his lips with her tongue.
"They say it's good for pimples," she said and laughed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They rested for a while, then she realized she still had a lot of work to do. Rob begged off helping, saying he had a rough test the next day he had to study for. She let him go with a pat on his crotch as he petted her tits.
She worked hard to finish up the print orders for the next day. She wondered where that counter girl was she ordered? Maybe the agency would send someone over the next day. It was still Thursday, a long Thursday, but somehow she couldn't remember a more happy one.
She was humming to herself again as she locked up and got into her car for the drive home.
Inside the frame house a half hour later, she hung up her sweater and looked around.
Damn, her life has been so much the same old rut before Rob changed it. Now she could fuck the little kid and not worry about it. He was having a ball and learning at the same time. She didn't try to evaluate if it was as good for him as she hoped. He could look out for himself. He was a big boy now.
The phone rang, breaking into her thoughts. She got it on the third ring.
"Yes?"
"Is this Ruth Marshall?" someone asked. "Yes."
"The same Ruth Marshall who graduated with the class of 1960 at good old John Bunyon High?"
"I must admit I am. Who's this?" she asked.
"Larry, Larry Bosshardt, remember me?" he asked.
Ruth remembered him instantly. He was known as the biggest bailer in the senior class, the real cockhound who had chased more girls home, and who had more girls get out of his car and walk home than any other boy on campus.
He had married a week after graduation, and at least once more since then.
"Of course, I remember you, Larry," she said.
"Good, hey you're not married are you?" he asked. "I noticed something in the class newsletter about you and your photo studio."
"No, Larry, I'm not married."
"Wild, neither am I. I thought maybe we could get together sometime and talk over the good old days. You know, shoot the breeze about school and the kids, who's doing what?"
"Yeah, that might be fun, you probably know about some kids I don't. Like your first ex-wife, what's she doing now?" she asked.
"Her, Melinda, I don't really know. We split, you know, and I didn't keep track. Too many painful memories," he said.
"True. Hey, weren't you the guy who made the bet our senior year?" she asked.
"Bet, bet, what kind of a bet?" he said. "I made a few."
"You bet somebody that you could get the panties off fifty girls in the senior class, and get them autographed," she said.
"Kerist, you remember that?"
"Naturally. I was one of the girls you tried to seduce. Don't you remember that?" she asked.
"I never took you out. You had some big flame," he said.
"Sure, but that didn't stop you. You have forgotten. It was in the downstairs hall after school. The basement hall. Nobody was around and you came out of the woodwork and propositioned me. I tried to hit you and you grabbed me and said if I didn't at least give you my panties, you'd break my arm," she said.
"Hell, I was just teasing you," he said.
"Some tease, you had my panties down to my knees before the janitor came by. I screamed and you ran like a slimy bastard," she said.
"Just kid tricks. We're grown up now. I'd still like to get into your panties though," he said. "How about coming over, now?"
"You crazy? I wouldn't let you inside the front door," she said.
"Still mad over a kid trick? Come on, grow up. You probably are as hard up for fucking right now as I am. Look, I'll stop by and get a jug of booze and come over with some pizza and we'll make a night of it. What do you say? Bet your old cunt could stand to get reamed out a few times. I'm not good for more than about four a night these days, but that would be a start."
Ruth stared at the instrument as he went on talking. She had never received an obscene phone call, and she had never been propositioned over the phone. This was wild. She really didn't know what to say. She'd never in her life made a date with a man who indicated first he wanted to fuck her.
Damn it, she wasn't hard up, she had a built-in kid cock!
She didn't bother answering, she just slammed down the receiver. There would be no chance to trace the call, she was sure. If he was that smooth, old Larry would have made his call from a public phone booth. After that it was just his word against hers.
She tried to forget it. She didn't have time for jerks like Bosshardt. She wondered what he was doing? It probably told on that ten year anniversary sheet they sent around. She grinned, thinking about Bosshardt. He must really be hard up if he's making obscene phone calls to people he knew.
She shrugged it off. By the time she'd had her shower and had done her daily exercising, she was convinced she wouldn't hear from Larry Bosshardt again. It was probably better that way. He always had been a creep.
She went to bed and almost at once to sleep. Her dreams were of one man-child whom she couldn't get enough of, but who she knew she had to lose because he was killing her. The same damn butterfly was in her dream.
by morning she had sobered up enough and settled down to put her relationship with Rob into a better light. She adored him. If he was over twenty, she'd try to marry him, but fourteen was just a little bit too much of a young thing.
The longer she kept him around, the more they were going to fuck, she knew that now. It would be an every day affair before long, or maybe it was now, she didn't know, but what she was sure of was that it had to stop.
She saw no other way except by firing Rob. If he wasn't there, she wasn't going to fuck him, that was for sure.
She was blue when she went to work. She zapped through her sittings and lab work with a gusto she didn't feel. Her damned energy cycle must be on the upswing. Now if she had her period when her energy cycle low hit, she'd be a candidate for the looney basket. No shit, it could hit her hard that way.
About ten o'clock the agency called and said they had just the right person for her, and would two o'clock be all right for an appointment? She said it would be. A Lynn Jeffers would be over.
She went back to work. By two o'clock she was ready for some help. Things were starting to stack up. She had been right all along. She didn't need darkroom help, what she could use was front room help.
A young man came in the door wearing slacks, dress shirt and tie but no coat, and looked around. He looked like he was ready for a picture, but she didn't remember scheduling any singles for today. When she finished with a customer, she turned to him.
"Yes, may I help you?" she asked politely.
"I'm Lynn Jeffers, here about the job?"
She stared. This was Lynn? Yes of course, it could have been spelled any way, and the man at the agency hadn't said it would be a boy or a girl. He looked young, not over sixteen.
"They told me you asked for a girl, but I said that was unfair discrimination," he said. "I could do anything for you a girl could. I even type and file. I can make appointments, keep people off your back while you're working in the studio or darkroom. I don't know anything about lab work, but I could learn...."
She held up her hand to stop him. A smile tinged her round face.
"Easy, Lynn, slow down a moment," she said. "As far as being a boy, forget that part. You're right, a boy can do the job just as well. Now, you've won on that point. What's more of a problem might be how long you have to be in school."
He hesitated, looked away, then stared at her.
"I don't go to school," he said. "I got suspended for a semester."
She frowned. "Lynn, you may consider it none of my business, but it really is. If you're going to work for me, I have a right to know why you were booted out," she said.
"Yeah, booted is the term. This girl said I. was messing around with her. I denied it and her father said either I was kicked out of school or he'd bring charges against me."
"So they found you guilty without benefit of a trial," she said.
"I guess so," he said. "Now I have four months with nothing to do."
"Can you make change?" she asked.
"Sure."
He showed her that he could, using a one, a five and then change from a twenty. She threw some fast simple adding and subtracting figures at him and he snapped back the answers so fast she had to stop and figure them out. He grinned at her.
"Math is my specialty. I'm going on to college, and hope to teach math some day," he said.
She went over the job she wanted him to do, watching the front end, answering the phone, taking appointments, clearing her calendar, and taking payment for work done. At the end of an hour of explanation, Ruth decided he could not only do it, but be good at it.
"Pay is two dollars an hour, and you'll work from nine to five with an hour off for lunch sometime in there," she said.
"Great, can I start right now?" he asked.
She laughed and nodded. "I'll give you a tour of the place while it's quiet. Sometimes I'll want you to help me out in the lab just with washing and drying, things so simple even a girl can do them," she said.
As she showed him the layout, she decided he would work out very well. He was quick, older than Rob, and could handle the customers better. He was also taller, nearly six feet, and thin as a toothpick.
He had a wild head of dark brownish red hair, thick lashes and had been shaving for a while. He grinned and smiled a lot, and all at once Ruth knew that it had been as much the girl's fault as it had been Lynn's if she got pregnant, which she guessed must be the whole rumble, else why could the guy charge a kid, certainly not for rape, since the boy probably was 15 or 16 when it happened too.
He was long legged and had long arms and would fill out to be a big man in five or six years. Now he was still a big floppy-armed panda bear.
She left him in front and went into the darkroom. It seemed half of her time was in the dark. That probably was indicative of how she ran her life. Or did she run it? Did she just let conditions run her? No, today she had hired a new helper. That would be a good move. She knew it would.
It was almost four before Rob got there that day. He scowled and marched straight into the darkroom. He touched Ruth's arm.
"What's he doing out there?" Rob asked.
Ruth turned, trying to remember the logical, reasonable explanation of why they couldn't be together any more.
"Rob, you are fourteen and I'm thirty-one," she said. "I've grown very fond of you, attached to you, and it isn't fair for you. I've decided you can't work here any more, and I can't see you any more. I do terrible things with you and you know we shouldn't and I know we shouldn't. But I can't help myself. So as long as you're here, I'm in trouble. Do you understand?"
"You're firing me?" he said.
"Yes. Now here's your check for last week and this week and a week's extra pay. Take that home and use it right. I still want to be your friend, Rob," she said.
She moved closer, "But, darling, I can't be your lover." She had whispered this in his ear, then brushed her lips against his cheek and fled.
He left soon after that, glaring again at the boy at the counter. Rob was so angry he could hardly see where he was riding his bike. He coasted to a stop blocks away from the studio and sat on the bike seat staring straight ahead.
He wasn't going to let her get away with it. She was going to pay somehow. But how? There must be some way. He had arranged with Clif for that very afternoon to show him how well he did with a 31-year-old woman. Now what could he do? Clif would think he made up the whole thing. He had planned on letting Clif slip in the back door and hide in the studio until they got to fucking it up on the couch. That would prove to him everything Rob had bragged about.
As he sat there the germ of an idea came. Why couldn't they still work the plan? Sure, why not? She always worked late, and the new stiff wouldn't know how to help in the darkroom. He'd probably go home at five when they closed.
That afternoon at five, Rob sat on his bike down the street watching the studio. It was ten minutes after five when the new clerk came out, closed the door and tried it to be sure it was locked.
Rob grinned and dug out on his bike around the block and rode up the alley behind the studio. About half the time the back door was open, and the rest of the time it was unlocked.
He parked the bike in some shadows and went up cautiously toward the door. He heard the print washer working inside. There were other noises he'd never noticed before. Quietly he stepped inside the door and through it, moving behind some old sets that had been stacked in the corner.
He crawled in and saw something move, but before he could yelp, it turned out to be Clif.
"Where the hell you been?" Clif asked.
"Just got here, man. She fired me today, said we were fucking too much," Rob said.
"Shit! Your making it all up," he said.
"Like hell I am, you black bastard. Just give me ten minutes, then sneak up and take a look in that second portrait room up there," he said.
Rob rubbed his dick, getting it hard, as he walked toward the darkroom. He was sure that's where she would be.
He was right. She had just finished printing a sequence when he slid unnoticed through the black curtain. He reeled his prick out of his pants and moved over toward her. He put his arms around her and grabbed both breasts, then began kissing her neck.
She jumped when he first touched her, then tried to look at him.
"Rob, is that you?" she said. "Yes, it has to be Rob. Darling, I'm very sorry, so very sorry, but I just can't make love to you any more."
His hands worked on her tits, rubbing them, playing with them. He worked his hips against her ass, his cock coming up hard now. She wore a skirt today and he flipped up the cloth and put his cock between her legs. It hit on her feverish ass and moved down between the sweaty cheeks.
"Darling, don't do that," she said. "Please don't try to get me excited."
But when he let go of her breasts and reached under her blouse to unhook her bra, she didn't scream or run. She stood there like the slave to sex she was, and waited.
He unhooked the bra, then turned her around and kissed her lips hard. He wanted to get her hot in here and strip her if he could, then lead her out to the couch. That would be part of the convincing for his buddy Clif. That black nigger would catch on that he wasn't just making it all up.
Rob opened her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders, then pulled down the bra. His mouth closed around her tits and he munched away as she sighed.
CHAPTER NINE
Rob nearly forgot what he was doing. He was so overcome by the bouncing, luscious tits. He smothered them with kisses and licks and nibbles, then moved up and kissed her open lips, and let her hold his throbbing cock.
At last he broke away from her hungry mouth.
"I just have to fuck you one more time, Ruth," he said. "Just one more good fuck to remember. You don't mind, do you?"
She was crying as she shook her head. "You're so good," she said. "So damned good. I just pity the girls that try to tell you no. You'll fuck half this town before you get to be seventeen."
He pulled her skirt off, and her sandals and took her into the hall to the other studio for portraits.
"The back door locked?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I'll get it," he said, leaving her standing there looking directly at the hiding spot where Clif crouched. Rob knew that by now the nigger boy had his long black prick in his hand and he was jacking off for a quick cum. He ran to the door and threw the night latch and hurried back.
A few moments later they were in the big studio, with the lights down low on the couch. She lay there, naked now, and watching him strip.
"Rob, this is absolutely the last time, you realize that?" she said.
"Okay, I'll find me another cunt," he said.
She looked hurt. He shrugged. She wanted him to spank her on the ass for a while and he did, making resounding slaps that he was sure Clif heard. Where was he? He said he'd follow them inside.
Rob laid her back on the couch and had just rammed his meat up her hole when he saw the black legs of the kid come through the door. He was quiet, and already had stripped. He closed the portrait studio door quietly, then tip-toed toward them.
He sat down at the side of the bed and saw the woman's eyes were closed. He moved his hands onto her breasts and almost shot his wad.
"Oh, Rob, that feels good, the way you're rubbing me. Do it more, only harder."
Rob motioned for Clif to lean in and kiss her, which he did. Probing his tongue deep down her throat. In the middle of the kiss, Rob jabbed her in the side with his finger. Her eyes snapped open, and for a fraction of a second Rob thought that she was going to pass out.
Then she screamed, and only the black mouth over hers prevented a loud shriek. Clif pulled back, holding her mouth closed with his hand.
"Boot me out like a worn out rubber, will you, bitch?" Rob said.
He was pounding his boycock hard into her cunt now, almost ready to shoot his load.
"You get a new cock, so you boot me out like a worn-out tire. So I brought you along some company," Rob said. "We're gonna fuck you till you turn blue, and make you do everything you ever heard of doing with cock and pussy. Then we'll see how you feel tomorrow. And we'll see how you like black nigger cock meat in your nice white little pussy."
When he finished saying it, he had climaxed without hardly noticing it. He pulled his dick out of her pussy, and without even wiping away his cum, Clif bored in between her thighs with his big black prick. It was twice as long as Rob's, and bigger around too.
Ruth lay there in a daze. A fog of unreality seemed to hover over her. How was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this?
First Rob saying all those ugly things, and opening her eyes to see she was French kissing a black boy, then seeing him go between her white thighs, and his huge thick cock aiming at her pussy. She tried to relax, to relax and make it as easy as possible.
She should talk to the boys and make them realize this was rape, their rape, not hers. That she could charge them. No, they wouldn't fall for that, but she might be able to make them listen to her.
She felt the fat black cock slice into her cunt like a knife, it's girth surprising her, spreading her tender cuntal lips, pushing past tissue that hadn't been disturbed in many months. The shock was instant and frightening. It was almost as if she were a flighty virgin again and she was taking it the very first time.
She remembered to relax again, and let her mind absorb the grinding shock of the big black prick ramming into her pussy. Then it was in to the hilt, flooding into her, burgeoning her tube, spreading, splitting, making her cunt feel filled and tight. Only when he began moving his dick in and out did any semblance of pleasure come. Then she tried to deny it, but the warm pleasure floated through, filtered down from the sure understanding that men are all alike and boys are all alike, and they all like ass.
The only good thing about it was he was quick. His cum point was very high and close to the emotional surface and after he shot his wad, he pulled his black boycock out and stood back. Rob, too, had sat down on the foot of the couch.
She saw he was crying.
"We never wanted to hurt you none," Rob said, "but you shouldn't have just fired me that way."
When he looked up at her that way, she couldn't stand it. She reached for him, hugged him to her breasts, comforted him and very quickly he was sucking on her tit, his other hand curled around a second one, and his dick was getting hard again.
"Rob, I'm doing what I think is best for you, can't you see that?" she asked. "You're fourteen. I've taught you something about girls, but you're not ready to fuck every day. For that you have to pay, pay first with a ring and a wedding, then with a tough, full-time job, and then with responsibilities like a house and a living and insurance and medical and hospital care, and the long, long, long range responsibility for the children that all that fucking is going to produce. You don't want that kind of trouble, do you?"
Rob shivered as he thought of it. Goddamn it, he sure didn't want all those things. He had to enjoy life a little first, to settle down and have a good time before he got into debt and took on a lifetime of trouble. The whole thing was trouble. Life was one big gang of trouble.
"What's your name?" she asked the black boy.
"Clif."
"Come here, Clif. I want to look at you. You have very clear skin. It's beautiful," she said.
"My cock is cute too," Clif said.
She ignored his remark. "Would you like to touch me, to pet me?" she asked. "You can if you'd like."
He moved up cautiously. His hands were larger than Rob's. One closed around her tit and she shivered, then steadied, and she discovered it was just a hand, a hand a different color, but it responded and reacted the same way. It was simply Clif's hand.
It could bring her breath into short supply. His other hand pressed her legs apart and rubbed softly on her twat.
"Is there anything else you boys would like me to do for you tonight?" she asked.
Rob looked up quickly. "Would you? I mean after...." he began.
She nodded.
"Wow! Would you take it ... you know ... in your mouth, all the way?" he asked.
"Sure." His dick was hard already. She turned and went down on him where he sat on the couch. He tried to hump up and down, but couldn't and so she moved so he could lay on his side and push his prick in her mouth. She caught it's shank with one hand and let about three inches of it into her mouth so she wouldn't choke. She wasn't about to let it go down her throat. She lay there sucking on the morsel every time it plunged against the roof of her mouth. He was moving carefully and she was sure he would be fast. The excitement of getting sucked off had always made every man she had tried a super quick shot artist. And Rob was no exception. He whimpered and then gasped as the first shot came blasting up his fuck tubes.
"Oh, Jeeezzzzzzzzeeeeee!" He didn't want to think about her taking it in her mouth. He shouldn't have asked her to.
"Damn, damn, damn. Oh, damn!" He sagged to the couch, but couldn't look at her. She sucked the last bit of cum from his tube and came off him. She didn't mind eating cock and swallowing cum. It just took a little getting used to, and if you did your job real fast, you hardly tasted it.
Now she looked at Rob. He was standing up and grabbing his pants.
"Get your clothes on, black man," he said, his voice with a sudden ring of command. "This is no place for us bohunks to be messing around. Unless you want to take on the responsibility of a kid for the next eighteen years."
Ruth had seen the black boy jacking off again as she took Rob. His black hands had been playing with her twat and one finger jamming into her. He had beat Rob to his second cum. Now he went to the studio door and got his clothes, quickly put them on and stepped into the hallway beside the darkroom.
"Ruth, I'm sorry about this. I mean I was a mad little kid. I think I've learned a damn lot in the past hour, not just about sex, but ... well you know."
She nodded. "Good, Rob. It's all been worth it then," she said.
She stood and began putting on her clothes, then went into the darkroom for the rest of them. When she came out, both the boys were gone.
Ruth printed the rest of the pictures, and dumped them from the chemical solutions into the plain water wash. The water was filtered and filtered again before it began the washing process, and helped her turn out excellent photographs and prints without specks, spots or dust marks. She worked hard at the job until the last of the prints were on the drum drier. It would take an hour more to finish drying them. She set the automatic timer with the shut-off mechanism and locked up.
She thought of going into the bar for a quick one before going home, but the very idea of a conversation, no matter how innocent or suggestive, made her close her eyes in pain.
She drove straight home and took a two-hour bath. It was something she loved to do, simply sitting there and soaking, with all of those glorious little bubbles breaking and the scent floating up to her.
She washed and scrubbed and soaked again, getting out of the water only when one finger began to look something like a prune.
It was after midnight before she put on the slinky robe and got into bed. She read for half an hour, then thought about Rob. He would be fine, she was sure. She thought he had grown up quite a bit there today in a half an hour.
She hadn't made up her mind completely about the other boy, Lynn. He seemed good at the store-but he was on "leave" from a high school. He probably had knocked up this little girl, but the way girls flaunted themselves today, and the way they talked about sex and encourage the boys, it was even odds that she had been as much at fault as he was. The little bitch might even have suggested the mating in the first place, it was hard to tell.
But to the little bird's father, the boy was the villain. At least that hadn't changed about our society. She had to laugh at what she would say if Rob's father came charging up and accused her of being the cause of his son's lost virginity.
Hell, what could she say?
But this was getting her away from the subject, and that was Lynn Jeffers. He was handsome, she would admit it, a hell of a fine-looking young lad, and he had a basketful of cock and balls, she had seen that right through his tight pants. Which could be something of a problem. She remembered how Rob had watched her tits when he didn't think she was looking; how he would bump up against her breasts sometimes, in apparent accident, then quickly apologize.
She would watch Lynn very closely to see if he showed any of the same hard-cock tendencies, and if he did, she would can him and get somebody else, a girl this time for sure. But until he made any overt moves, she would treat him like the virgin she was sure he wasn't.
That was going to be her policy. She would not fraternize with the help, or to put it in terms she really understood, she wasn't going to fuck the kid, Lynn.
She rolled on her side and tried to go to sleep. Why couldn't she? She had made up her mind about it, and that was settled. But why did she even have to make up such a big deal about it? Because she knew damn well she had to, that's why. On that note she went to sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
Saturday was always a heavy day at the studio. Several family groups had to be photographed because that was the only day the man of the house didn't work.
Lynn was waiting outside the door when she arrived at ten minutes of nine. She briefed him on how to handle those waiting for sittings, and what to do about new appointments.
Ruth worked hard, getting some excellent shots on a family of eight. She knew that would be a killer, and it was, but she was sure they would take one or two of the poses. Everyone of them was simply eating out of her hand before it was over.
They worked straight through lunch, and about 1:30 she sent Lynn out for hamburgers and milk shakes. He came back fast and the sittings clicked off like magic.
by four o'clock she was dragging. That was when Marty came in. She started to say something, saw Lynn and shut up so fast it was obvious she was embarrassed.
She hurried into the back studio and set into Ruth like a Canadian football halfback.
"Where in the world did you get him? Where did you get that young stud out there in the front office? He's the best-looking hunk of young beef I've seen in years."
"Lynn?"
"Yeah, the delicious guy behind the counter," she said. "Jesus H. Kerist, but what a hunk of stud! I'd like to get him in the darkroom and develop a few things with him."
"He's only sixteen, so calm down your twat," she said.
Marty frowned.
"Just sixteen? Hell, I'd teach him all the right twists, bring him up right," she said.
"Marty, you still having that party tonight? If you are, I better beg off. I've been through a whip-sawing meat grinder down here today," she said.
"You've fucked him already!" Marty yelped. "Was he good? Bet he's got a long skinny cock, right? Not too much hair on his chest, but a pair of sleek, thin hips that hit your cunt like crazy?"
"Marty, I hate to disappoint you, but he started yesterday afternoon and I haven't even shaken his hand, I haven't touched him. One simply can't mix that sort of thing with business. If I tried that, he'd be gone in a week and I'd be looking for new help," she said.
"Come on, Ruth," she said. "I know you've got an itchy twat just like mine. You simply couldn't live in the same building with him for an hour without wanting him in your bed."
Ruth closed her eyes in resignation. "Marty, I said I can't come to your damned party tonight, did you hear me?" she said.
"What'd you mean you can't come? I'm set up for six people. I got you a swinging date, real cool guy who is really hung," Marty said.
"Really? Marty, I'm bushed," she said. "I'm too pooped to even get a nipple up, sorry I'm out of it."
"You can't be. I've got people depending on you. You got to come and at least hold onto somebody's cock for a while. Look you get a sick headache or suddenly your period starts, we can let you sneak out."
"Marty, I feel as much like having an orgy...." she began.
"It's always better once it gets going. Look, we'll start off slow with a one on one. Since you're the guest you get first pick. This is always ladies' choice."
"It sounds wild."
"It's a deal then. His name is Quando, and he'll pick you up at eight o'clock. Damn it, don't be late. We'll be a drink ahead of you, so bring a bottle of something. We always BYOB at these things."
"Anything else, like what I should wear?"
"That won't matter after you get inside. Drapes all closed, blinds all down, and it's skin time," she said.
"Hooray. Now get out of here and let me do some work, or I'll never get to your fuck party." Marty laughed and left.
They had one more sitting and Lynn left at five. Marty stared at the stack of cut film holders in the dark room. Four years ago she loved working all Saturday, all that night and Sunday just so she could get the proof out for the customers. Now, it didn't seem so important. Important? Hell, it was getting to be a drag, a real goddamned drag! Maybe she should sell the studio and get a job somewhere. She could work as a portrait photog for good money with none of the worries, the government red tape, or the headaches.
At six o'clock she closed up, spent five dollars on an outrageously small but delicious dinner, then drove on home for an hour in the tub. She washed like she never had before. All of her was going to be on display tonight, not just the usual parts.
She chose one of her old mini skirts that barely covered her asscheeks and a loosely knit shell type vest for a blouse. It was so loose that both nipples poked through two of the many rows of holes. It was mostly holes, a kind of fish net. She put a sweater over it and was ready when the doorbell rang.
She invited him inside, but he shook his head. He stood just over six feet, soft blond wavy hair and no ears. His face looked foreign somewhere but his English was American and up to date.
"We better zip right over there," he said. "Marty gets a fly up her nose if I come late."
"Okay, you're driving."
In the car they talked mostly about the weather, the latest space news and the Watergate mess in Washington. Then they stopped at Marty's place. Two other cars were in the driveway. They didn't go in the front door, but up a passage and into a side door shielded from the street.
As soon as they got inside the door, the lights went out. Quando had her hand and he led her along a corridor, then into a room. Suddenly the lights flashed on and Ruth gasped, then giggled.
There were four persons in the room and they all were naked.
"Finally got here, huh?" Marty with three drinks in her gut already asked. "Figured we'd start without you." She weaved slightly. "Hell, don't just stand there, strip."
"Right here?"
"Shit, yes," Marty said and they all laughed. Then Ruth saw piles of clothes around the room beside chairs. She picked a chair and slid out of her sweater, then her skirt and the net vest. She took off her panties as she faced the wall.
She turned around, nervously she told herself, but only Quando was looking at her, the others were petting, playing, sexing it up. Quando called it to order.
"Hey, you sex freaks, let's play by the rules.
First one is a ladies choice, and the first lady to choose is Ruth."
She looked at them. Three men and two other women. The women were in their thirties, Marty still stacked and trim, the other woman a blonde, had bulged a little but she had size D cup breasts that were big.
Silicone, Ruth told herself.
The men were more interesting. All seemed hung about the same, black pubic hair and four-inch worms crawling down their crotches.
All four looked to be in their mid-twenties. Nothing but the very best for Marty. One had muscles that wouldn't stop, he looked like an ad for Charles Atlas. All were strong types, with wide shoulders, slender waists, and good legs. They all watched her.
She passed over two, then selected the third. He hadn't said a word to her since she arrived. He had soft brown hair and green eyes. A small mustache showed under his nose. She pointed to him and he grinned and walked toward her. They turned and went down a lighted hall and picked the master bedroom with bath. Inside he closed the door and locked it, then smiled.
"Call me Ruth," she said, smiling seductively.
"Hi, Ruth, I'm Phil," he said. "Hey, did you smell anything funny out there?"
She frowned. "No, some smoke, I guess somebody was smoking before I came. Why?"
"Smelled like pot to me, marijuana. Hey, you got any uppers, any reds or blues, I'm fresh out."
"Uppers. Isn't that some kind of pills, bennies or some of that prescription stuff?"
"Yeah." He laughed. "I thought you were running in pretty rough company for you. That was marijuana they were smoking before I came and they've got pots of pills and I'll wager some hard stuff out there too. That one muscle-man is a mainliner and he's never far from his junk."
"Heroin?" Ruth was beginning to get scared.
"Right. And I'm a cop, narco squad. If you want to get out of this one, see if you can wear any of Marty's clothes in there. As soon as I open the front door, there'll be a dozen narco officers swarming all over this place. I said I'd get any innocents out first. Looks like you're it."
"But how? The window?"
"Right. Then you get for home." He lifted up his foot and she didn't like to watch what it did to his crotch. He took a piece of wide tape off the sole of one foot. Under it was a five-dollar bill.
"Use this to get a cab."
She hadn't moved. She was still naked, staring at him. She suddenly ran for the closet. She jerked off a blouse and skirt, hurried into them, went to a dresser and got out a pair of panties and put them on. She caught a sweater from a rack and pulled it around her shoulders, then spotted some sandals.
"Hurry up, those guys won't wait too long."
He had the window open and the screen unscrewed and pulled off. It was only three feet to the ground. She jumped down and walked to the street, then walked down the sidewalk a half block and ran to the other side of the street. From the shadow of a tree, she watched Marty's house.
A minute later the front door burst open and somebody was yelling. A dozen shadows materialized and began to run for the house.
A shape just behind her touched her arm. "Lady, if Phil got you out of there, you better keep on moving."
She turned and walked away. She had never been so frightened in her life! Ruth wondered how she could even walk.
Her heart was pounding, she was sure she couldn't hear, and twice she stepped off a curb without knowing the street was there.
At a grocery store she found a telephone and called a cab.
As soon as he saw Ruth safely out of the room, Phil opened his bedroom door and peeked out. One couple had sprawled in the living room. They were head to toe, their mouths busy. He saw the other couple in the next bedroom. They hadn't bothered to close the door.
He went to the living room and began stumbling around. It had to be now. "Damned smoke, can't stand the smoke," he shouted and jerked open the front door.
He saw them coming, and ran for the bedroom where the couple were already hooked up. Nobody was going to have any time to flush the junk down the toilet this time.
As the agents poured into the room, he held up his hands, looking surprised along with the couple.
"What the hell is this?" he yelped.
One of his buddies in narco caught him and slammed him against the wall, snapping cuffs on him. That bastard. He'd get even for that practical joke. Then he relaxed. At least it hadn't blown his cover. He could still go on working undercover for narco.
An hour later they had found the pills, two papers of heroin and a syringe, and an even dozen marijuana cigarettes. It was a good bust. He'd spend at least a month in jail and have his case transferred. It was a good night's work.
Ruth sat in her living room watching the late news. There was only one small item about a drug arrest, but nothing about any names. Police said the names would be released in the morning. She stared at the TV set. There was nothing more she could do.
If Marty had been messing around with dope all along, she knew the risk she was running. Somehow she was going to have to thank that policeman. He said his name was Phil. She wondered if that was a real name, or one he had made up?
Marty. She was in trouble this time. Even if she didn't have or use any of the dope, still they found it in her house. God, that would be a rough one. She might even have to go to jail, to prison.
As she went to sleep, she was trying to figure out how she could ever hope to locate that policeman to thank him. As she thought about it, she had no feeling of embarrassment at all. That was strange. She was going into a bedroom with a man she had never seen before, yet she didn't feel shy or even uncomfortable. That was funny.
Sunday she woke up about ten o'clock and had another shower, then made a big breakfast of scrambled eggs and hash-browns and rode five miles on her ten-speed bike.
She drove with it down by the lake and rode around on the bike path. After five miles she had a hot dog at a little stand and went two more miles.
Back at her house she remembered what she had been trying to think of the night before. One of the men in their class of 1960 had joined the police force. He was a sergeant, she thought. She found the listing and went through it.
His name was Art Thomspon. She couldn't even remember him. She wished now that she still had her year book, the annual with all the pictures in it, but she'd lost it somewhere.
She found his name and address in the telephone book and they matched the class roll, but when she called, his wife said he was on duty. She could reach him at a special number if it was important.
She went through two switchboards before she got him. As it turned out, he didn't remember her either.
"Well, I guess we were in different groups. Can't expect to know a thousand kids in a graduating class," she said.
He agreed.
"Now, you go to all this trouble to track me down, you need some information or some help, right?" Art asked.
"Right," she said. "I'm trying to find a man in the narcotics division by the name of Phil. He did me a very big favor and I have no way to thank him."
She explained what had happened, about the dope, not about the nakedness, and Art laughed.
"Yeah, that sounds like the guy. I used to work narco, and it was kind of standard procedure to separate the sheep from the goats. The inside man's option, we called it. I can't give you his name, because he's probably still on undercover work. But if you want to write him a letter and send it to me at my home address, which you have, then I'll see that he gets it."
She thanked Art Thompson and hung up. So now she knew, she could contact him, what do you say? Did she start off with something about "the other day when you and I were both naked in that bedroom and they were smoking pot outside...."
That would never do. She thought about it for an hour, then went down to the studio and souped all of Saturday's shooting. She made proofs of everything and got them in the right envelopes. There was some printing that she could do. She shrugged and turned off the lights and went home.
In the Sunday paper, she found the story. Two of the men had been arrested for possession, and one of the women for assaulting a police officer. The other woman and one man were released. No names were giyen.
As soon as she saw the article, Ruth ran to the phone and called Marty. The voice that answered was cautious, clear and sharp.
"Marty, is that you?" she said. "This is Ruth."
"Honey! I've been so worried about you. What the hell happened to you anyway?" she asked. "We got all -lined up and you were gone, and I thought maybe they shanghied you or something."
"No, I went out a window wearing some of your clothes. I smelled the pot smoke and I heard something about a needle, and I got so scared I just split."
"That's what Phil told the cops, but they didn't believe anybody. Honey, I swear I didn't know nothing about the H. Honest to God, I don't fool around with that," she said. "I take a toke of weed now and then, and hell, uppers are prescription medicine, but I'm not hooked on any of that stuff. I swear I didn't know that damned Jake was planning on shooting up in my pad. I'd have killed the sonofabitch myself if I knew that." She paused. "That wasn't a very good latch up for you and a little group thing, was it?"
"No, Marty, and I don't think it would have worked," she said. "I'm just not into that sort of thing, but I'm glad that you gave me a look. I'm going to have to work this damned fucking thing out by myself, I guess."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mondays were always a slow day in her studio. Lynn was working a crossword puzzle for the first two hours. At eleven o'clock he came back to the darkroom and asked what he could do. She had him switch some prints in a washing tray, and then she showed him how to put them face up on the rotary dryer. He caught on fast.
"Wow, I don't see how you learned this all by yourself. You mean you never went to any photo school or college or anything?" he asked.
She smiled and told him no, and that her father had been a good teacher.
"Wow, like I could never learn it all. But then I guess pretty girls make pretty pictures, right?" he asked.
That was the opening gun, and for the next three hours he kept peppering her with compliments. At last she told him she wasn't interested in his sweet talk, that she'd rather see how well he could sweep down the whole place and clean out all the trash baskets.
"I'm a front office clerk," he yelped.
"You want to work here, buster, you do what you're told," she said.
He shrugged his young shoulders and did the jobs.
She sat down at the little office desk at one side of the front and worked on a letter. At last she had it just the way she wanted it.
Dear Phil:
I don't know your last name, they said I shouldn't know it, because of your work. How does a person thank someone for saving her life, for getting her out of one hell of a bad jam? That's what you did for me. I don't even know what pot smoke smells like. To me uppers are teeth and big H is for Henry Kissinger. I'm the original dumb-dumb when it comes to dope and that sort of junk.
I know it sounds strange, but even under those circumstances I didn't feel a bit embarrassed. I don't know why. I don't even wear a bathing suit very often in public, and when I do it is not the two-piece bikini type, I assure you. That was a wild, strange night all the way around.
There simply is no way for me to express to you how grateful I am. If I had lots of money I could give you a couple of million as a starter.
And when I picked you out of the three, I honestly was attracted to you. You may not think that one out of three is a very big honor, but it could just have well been one out of a million. Something about the way you watched me, I guess.
I would be more than happy if you could stop by my portrait studio. While I'm not the world's best photographer, I do get lucky once in a while and turn out some good work. Need a new photo to send to your relations for Christmas?
Really, I'd be pleased to see you any time, and I know you're busy, so I'll understand if you can't make it.
I thank you once again....
Ruth Marshall
She read it over once more, almost threw it in the wastebasket, but at last folded it and addressed it to the policeman who had been in her class. She put Phil on top, then the other man's name. That should do it.
Lynn came back in and grinned.
"Got everything all slicked up," he said. "Come and take a look."
She did and it was a fine job, better even than Rob had done.
"Very good work, Lynn," she said, smiling.
"Oh, I found this roll of dry film and I wondered what to do with it."
When she saw it, she nodded. "That's a roll of a nude model we had in. I'll take care of it. We'll probably never sell them," she said.
"I thought some of them looked like you, Ruth," he said.
"Girls who are naked look a lot alike, Lynn," she said.
He stepped closer to her.
Suddenly she was aware of the physical heat of him. It was a driving, surging, sexual power which was pulling at her fluttering pussy, stirring her.
"I have a question," he said. "Do you have a small mole on your right breast?"
She flushed, feeling the hotness swarm up from her neck. It was old-fashioned to blush, but she did. At last she grinned.
"Lynn, that's a question you'll never find the answer to," she said.
"Why?"
"Just because."
"Rob said you had one there, called and told me that the roll of film is you. And he said you were one of the best kissers this side of Hollywood. Could I kiss you?" he asked.
He had moved closer to her and his powerful body heat had surrounded her. She leaned in just a little and felt his hot breath on her cheek. Then his lips touched her forehead, and her nose, then gently on her lips.
Sweet.
He broke contact, then kissed her again, hard and firm, his big boyish arms winding around her, pulling her tightly against his broad chest, crushing her breasts against him. His tongue probed and probed at her teeth, but they wouldn't let him inside. At last he eased the kiss and pulled back a little.
She knew the instant he touched her she was lost, but she fought the blinding hot blood that surged into her system, the thrill of his lips on her, the tremendous burning sensation on her breasts against his chest. It was so strong, so vital, so alive that she wanted to scream in delight.
Still, she struggled against him. She pushed him back, away from her, breaking his hold around her. At last his arms dropped and the magic contact was broken and she could speak.
She took a deep breath and stared at him.
"Lynn, if you ever kiss me again, I'll fire you on the spot, is that clear?" she said, angrily.
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
"If you ever put your arms around me, I'll fire you right there and black list you if anybody comes here for a reference. Do you understand that?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Now you might apologize and let me get back to work," she said.
"I'm sorry I frightened you," he said, hesitantly.
"You didn't frighten me," she said, trying to smile.
"Okay, then I'm sorry you're mad that I kissed you," he said. "I liked it. You've got a great body, and good breasts and a mouth that should be kissed a lot. Lips that...."
He stopped as she lifted her hand to slap him.
"Promise me you won't try anything like that again," she said.
"I promise," he said, reluctantly.
"Good, now I can get some work done," she said. "Check the front, I thought I heard someone come in."
Before she could move, he stepped up, put his arms around her again and kissed her hard.
This time she didn't have time to get her mouth closed and his tongue bored into it. One of his hands closed around a breast and he held it there a moment, then began rubbing it sexily.
She wanted to scream at him that she couldn't, that it wasn't right, but she couldn't. She wanted to pull herself away from his burning lips, his on-fire tongue, and lean back from his hips that were pushing in a slow little rhythm against her crotch, but she didn't have the strength.
Her breasts burned again, so hot and vibrant that there was no denying them. Her lips and her mouth relaxed, welcoming his tongue inside.
Slowly her hands crept up his back and then laced around his neck as she hung on when her knees fell apart.
Softly she moaned. His hand quickened its work on her tit, now moving to the other one, allowing more room to pet her. Suddenly his hand went under her blouse and she couldn't stop him. She nibbled his lips, then kissed his cheek, leaning back against the work bench now, letting his hands move wherever he wanted them to.
He covered both breasts, but found she had on a bra and massaged it for a while, then reached behind her, inside her blouse, and unhooked her bra.
She moaned again as his knowing hands worked around her body under the bra straps until they touched her bare tits.
"Oh, God, but that's good," she said out loud.
He grinned and massaged both her big breasts, reaching for her mouth again with his.
Her hands had dropped and now rubbed at his pants, pulled at his zipper and got it down. He wore no shorts. His cock popped out the opening and she groaned as she caught it with both hands.
That's what she needed, a good big cock inside her body, anywhere inside her!
She held tightly to his cock with one hand, and began moving toward the little door, around it and into the studio with the couch.
Ruth couldn't even scold him. He'd lied to her, he'd assaulted her with a kiss, with a touch, and now she was leading him to the couch. She refused to think about it, only sat down on the softness with her legs spread, her hand still around his hot prick.
He unzipped her blouse and took it off, then her bra. She wasn't sure why she wore it today, in protest maybe, against the other boy, Rob. No, nothing so deep, probably just habit.
His hands were on her tits, coaxing them, teasing them, snapping her nipples until they surged upward, excited, willing, wanting.
When he kissed her breast, she cried. He looked up surprised, but she nodded, asking him to go on. They were tears of pure and unmistaken joy. He was so tender! So thoughtful, he moved her to tears so quickly.
She marveled as his mouth worked around the swell of her big tit, climbed the front slope and then pounced on her nipple with a little sigh of achievement. He made it a symphony of conquest, an orchestration of seduction, he made the battle of the sexes really worthwhile-worthwhile losing!
She squirmed inside her wool pants, knowing that her twat was starting to juice up, knowing that her hips were beginning their little dance of anticipation. But still he worked on her tits.
When he finished with one, he moved up and kissed her lips.
"So beautiful, so pretty, such a pair of tits!" He kissed her again, gently. "Golly, but you've got a good body," he said.
Slowly he caught her shoulders and lay her back on the couch, lifting up her hips and placing them on the narrow bedstead.
He kissed her flat belly and nosed down to her pants, and she wailed softly.
"Oh, yes, Lynn, yes!" she said. "I'll never fire you, honest to cock. Never, just love me, pet me, make me feel this way forever!"
He unzipped the side of the pants and let his mouth push down the material. He kissed the silky softness of her panties, then had to lift her hips and pull down the wool pants.
He was delicious. She had lost his cock, and now she couldn't reach it.
She sat up as he played with the clothing at her knees. Then he pulled the pants off and her shoes. She hadn't worn pantyhose that day, so he didn't have to bother with them.
He brought his mouth back to her waist and kissed her panties again from the top right down to her crotch, over the bush of cuntal hair, spreading her legs wide until he could kiss exactly on the small wet spot that betrayed her fragrant cunt.
He licked it, licked it again, then bent lower and caught the nylon in his teeth and ground it until he made a small hole. He began tearing it and ripping her panties with the strong teeth and his fingers until he had the whole crotch ripped out. His mouth went in firmly and kissed her swollen, pouting pussy lips.
She climaxed. It had been such a long build-up that she couldn't hold it in another second. It was fast, a bouncing, rattling kind of cum that surprised him, but he held on to her hips even as they humped up toward his face and tried to kiss her oozing cunt again.
She pulled him up to her mouth and kissed his lips, dragging him over her, letting his stiff cock nudge into her open legs.
When she finished the rolling, rocking climax, she hugged him and caught his prick, nosing it into her cunt. He laughed and went between her legs on his knees, positioned himself, and then leaned down and drove his dick home in one long, fast stroke.
"OHHHHHHHH, DAMMMMNNNNN!" she howled as he sunk in to his black shaft hairs. "Goddamn, you don't give a pussy much warning, do you?" she asked.
He shook his head. She looked at his face and saw his eyes closed, his breath starting to come in short gasps.
"No, darling, not yet. Make it last. Just relax." She put her hands on his hips and realized he still had his pants on. "Just try to relax, think about something not sexy, like school, or baseball or basketball." She could feel him loosen, feel his body sag onto her.
"Yes, that's the way, just let your cock soak a while," she said. "I love it when your prick's inside me that way, just love it."
He stirred, and she felt his prick bounce.
"Easy, take it cool. Think about a cold shower and fishing through the ice," she said.
"God, but you're beautiful, you know that?" he asked.
He leaned away from her a little so he could focus on her face. "A beautiful face, fantastic tits, and a sleek waist and hips wide enough for a girl, but still slender. Goddamn, what a beautiful fucking machine!" he said.
"Go!" she shouted. "Go, man, fuck me for all you've got, fuck me for ten inches of prick up my cunt. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
His hips started pounding against hers. She did a corkscrew with her hips each time his cock came in and it had the effect of hitting her clit with his cock and grinding both sides and the middle of her pussy hole along the sides of his prick. It usually set men wild.
He pumped his prick a dozen times more than she thought he would and at last she felt the first spasm of his hips as he shot the initial blast of sperm into her cunt.
It burned! His fresh boy cum was ten times as hot and sticky as Rob's had been. Suddenly she was climaxing herself again. Without warning or build up, she simply blew herself out of the park.
The suddenness of the climax left her no time to prepare. She never even heard or felt the rest of his climax, as her whole body was transformed into a sailing ship and she was sliding along the waves in a fantasy ocean, skimming along at well over a thousand miles an hour. The ship seemed to have a dozen or so small hulls in the water, so it zapped through the waves without being affected by the ups and downs and rode cleanly.
She saw flying fish that kept up with them, flying with a long low trajectory from the tops of huge combers that came up and almost broke but never quite, receding back into the blueness of the ocean.
Then the waves quieted and her body stopped rumbling and she saw that the male over her whose cock was inside her cunt had stopped, too. She reached around him and pinned him tightly against her belly.
"You ain't going nowhere, man," she said. "You got to stay for seconds."
"Seconds?" he asked. "Shit, yes. Once is never enough."
"Now, where did you learn that?" she said. "From the guys jacking off in the can at school," he said.
She laughed deliciously.
Five minutes later she let him get up and she went to use the bathroom and splash some perfume on her snatch and tits.
Back in the big studio, he had pulled off his clothes and was doing stretching exercises in the nude.
"How about doing some pushups on top of me?" she said.
He grinned.
"Fuck you," he said.
"I wish you would," she said.
"Right now?" he asked.
"What's stopping you?" she said.
"I never fuck a girl who's standing up," he said.
She ran to the couch and lay down, spreading her legs, lifting them high.
"How about something different, darling?" she asked.
He knelt between her legs. "Like what, fucky bitch?" he asked.
"Be nice, or I'll bite your prick off," she said. "I was thinking maybe about a back-door piece. You ever had one?"
"A what?"
"A back door ... an asshole fuck," she said. "Shit."
"I just did, and it's a wide open tube. Wanta try it?" she asked.
"Sure, as long as it won't hurt you," he said.
She laughed softly, thinking of some of the big shitty pricks that had been rammed up her cock-loving ass.
"Don't worry, I won't let you hurt me. Eat my tits first," she said.
He went down on her, slobbering over them, licking them, kissing her nipples, then her nose and eyes and finally her mouth. His cock was hard as a telephone pole.
She motioned him back and rolled over.
"It's easiest from the backside," she said.
She spread her legs and told him how to get his finger into her, but to go slow. He should use some lubricant from her pussy hole.
When he had her crack loosened up, she tried to relax, and when she felt it coming, she told him to stretch her asshole open with one finger and slide his cock in.
He tried, and missed the first time. Then she told him to spit on his cock to make it slippery, and this time it nosed right into her asshole.
"Slow, goddamn it! Just ease your dick into me. Slow and easy," she said. "Give the old shit tube time to stretch, to open up a little."
"Doesn't feel any different to me," Lynn said.
"Shut up your face and feel a little bit. You realize you got an ass-fuck on your hands here? Something you never done before?" she said.
She shouldn't have said it. Before she was ready, he was unloading, shooting his wad, pounding his prick hard at her tail. She yelped once then relaxed and let him finish cumming.
"Gawd, now that is low-down dirty fuckin'!" she said.
He sighed and started to take his shitty cock out of her asshole.
"Go ahead, fuck and run, I don't care back there," she said.
He pulled it out and she flipped over to look at his brown-streaked cock.
"Damn, no real brown shit all over your prick. You got to expect a little," she said. "You go use the john and wash off that beautiful fucker good."
He laughed and left, coming back a couple of minutes later, his prick limp but clean.
She used the john and when she returned he was dressed already.
"Somebody came in outside, been ringing the bell," he said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She began pulling on clothes.
"Tell them we were in the studio, as the sign says," she said.
She put her blouse on without a bra and waved him out of the room. "Get out there and take care of them or stall them," she said.
He was dressed, so he left.
When she got to the front office about three minutes later, she felt very well fucked and satisfied. There was something about a back-door job that just settled her down.
The customer wanted some film developed and Lynn had taken care of it. She still had the customer's film sent out. She didn't make much on it that way, but there was no hassle.
She got the letter to Phil off on the morning mail, so it could be delivered by tomorrow. She wasn't holding out much hope. Look how they had met, for Christ's sakes? Not exactly the ideal conditions, both naked, while he was on duty busting a narcotics party. She shrugged. So she had blown another one.
She sent Lynn out for lunch at 11:30 and then went when he got back and worked like a maniac the rest of the afternoon. She had been intense and for three sittings she outdid herself. She didn't think she had ever taken better negatives.
Somehow the night dragged by, TV mostly. She was a TV movie fan. She wished they had pay TV in town so she could see movies without commercials.
The next morning she had two appointments and she hardly saw Lynn. He handled the front and she set up some really good shots, talked with three women about ordering their prints and, when she looked up from the table and chairs where they checked proofs and prints with customers, she almost choked.
Standing right in front of her was Phil. She hardly recognized him with clothes on. But the same brown hair, the same slight cleft in his chin and the eyes that didn't laugh, didn't judge, just looked a hole right through you.
She couldn't think of anything to say. He grinned and sat down.
"About that portrait we talked about. I think we'd better reschedule it," he said. "I missed that Saturday appointment."
He was grinning, but she couldn't read anything else into it. He saw her glance down her figure and back up, still grinning.
Momentarily she panicked, not having the slightest idea what to say, or even if she could talk. At last she pointed to the chair opposite her. He sat down as she swallowed.
"I ... I guess we should arrange a time for you. That was for a color portrait, right?" she asked.
He nodded. His voice dropped down to a normal tone, no softer than that.
"I got your letter, Art gave it to me this morning when I came off duty. Thanks. In my line of work not many people take the time to say thanks. You're quite a detective yourself, tracking me down that way," he said.
"Then Phil is your real first name?" she asked.
"Yes. It's easier in stress situations when you're out there on the street," he said.
"I really didn't know what was going on over there, the pills and things ... I...." she began.
He smiled, softer this time.
"I could tell that, you simply didn't fit in with that bunch, not even for the swap party," he said.
"I've known Marty since high school. She said I might enjoy it. You know, try it, maybe you'll like it," she said.
He watched her. "I get a lot of customers in my line of work that way. Be careful what you try," he said.
She closed her eyes for just a second. He was just the same as he had been, and she was attracted to him. For a moment she understood that it was not a sexual attraction, and her heart began to skip a beat.
"I'm not used to being, you know, undressed that way. But somehow I wasn't embarrassed. Were you?" she asked.
He chuckled and tapped a pencil on the table. "No, I wasn't. It was what has to be some kind of a group feeling, a group psychology. Everyone was the same, nobody peeking or giggling or snickering. I went into a nudist camp once for three days on an undercover job, and after the first ten minutes I honestly never noticed that people didn't have clothes on. Oh, I noticed, if a girl was especially pretty and had a good figure, I noticed her like I would on the street. And if a man was rugged and six-six and bulging with muscles, I'd notice and remember to stay away from him. But it was the whole group psychology, I guess," he said.
"You talk like a college man," she said.
"No degree, I need another ten units. Maybe next year, if I get off this assignment," he said.
"What are you taking?" she asked.
"What else? Law enforcement and corrections," he said.
"Key, good. I like that. A cop with some brains," she said.
She looked up quickly. "You don't mind if I call you a cop?" she asked.
"No. That's what I am," he said.
"Phil, I do want to take a portrait of you. Something very arty, a Karsch type shot, maybe with your badge or your gun, and in uniform, or maybe just shirt and tie and hat. Do you have a uniform?" she asked.
"Sure."
"How about it? Can I do a picture?" she asked. "Sure."
"When can you come in for a sitting? Wednesday or Thursday?" she asked.
"Any time, I'm off duty for a week to let my image cool down a little. Technically I'm in jail on a possession charge," he said.
She looked at the schedule. "Great, make it tomorrow afternoon about three," she said.
"How long will it take?" he asked.
"Oh, about an hour," she said, smiling brightly.
"You close at five, so let's make it at four. Then I'd like to take you to dinner," he said.
She dropped her pen. Her almost frightened eyes looked up at him. "Was it because you saw me Saturday night, that way?" she asked.
"Sure, partly, I'm human. But mostly it's because I've talked to you today. I came over here strictly to justify to myself that I was right in helping you out that window. Then we got to talking. I think I like you better with your clothes on!" he said.
She sat there a moment smiling at him. A strange tingle skittered down her spine and she wondered if she could keep her position on the chair. He looked back at her and as their eyes met, she had to look away.
She scribbled his name in the appointment book. Gathering her powers so she could at least speak.
"Could I have a phone number? In case something comes up and we can't be here for the appointment," she said.
"Sure." He gave it to her. "I'm not there very often. It's my apartment, and I don't have an answering service. You know I work nights a lot," he said.
"Yes."
"You're Ruth, Ruth Marshall," he said.
She stood up. "I guess it's time I get back to work," she said.
"Have time for coffee?" he asked.
"No, I have a lot of...." She stopped and frowned. "Sure," she said.
"Hey, that's my word," he said.
She saw Lynn sulking as they walked out. She told him they'd be back in half an hour. Her schedule was free. The damn darkroom stuff could wait.
They talked about a million things over the steaming mugs of brew. She wondered if she could believe it or not. It seemed like the start of something good. It had been a long time since she'd felt this way about a man. And what a man! He said he was 28.
Lynn glowered at her when she came back forty-five minutes later. An appointment was waiting. She went in and took the shots of a couple, then worked in the darkroom.
She had a stack of printing to do on orders. She was wondering about getting a part-time darkroom man to help her when she felt the breeze of the double curtain doors as someone came in.
"Hi, Lynn, the front end all closed up?" she asked.
He walked straight to her, said it was, and reached down and kissed her.
It was so unexpected. She pushed him back, pounding him in the chest with her doubled-up fists. She knew it hurt.
"Why did you go out with that jerk?" he asked.
She laughed.
He slapped her. It was so hard her head snapped to one side. As she turned back, her momentary fright cooled and she scowled at him.
"Who the hell are you, asking me that?" she said.
"I'm ... I'm your lover, remember this morning?" he said.
"I warned you not to, remember?" she said. "But then you helped, you wanted to," he said.
He had grabbed her again, one hand caught her breast and rubbed it hard. He kissed her again, then again. At last she twisted away from him.
"No, Lynn, leave me alone," she said. "You got fucked twice already today, wasn't that enough?"
"No, twice is never enough," he said.
He came toward her. She was trapped in the corner away from the door. There was no place to run. She didn't want to fight him and ruin half the work she had done.
She let him grab her and pull her out of the darkroom. In the hall she tried to run but he trapped her. One hand caught her breast and held on, using it like a handle, pulling her into the couch.
"Strip," he told her.
She tried to kick him in the crotch. He caught her foot and dumped her on the couch, then fell on her. His body was between her legs, one of her arms pinned under her and his hands ripped her blouse, pulling it up, showing that she had forgotten to put her bra back on. He went down on her tits, chewing, sucking them, groaning in delight.
Ruth cried. Why wasn't anything simple anymore? Why couldn't she have hired a girl clerk?
Why couldn't she have refused to fuck him that morning?
Now little by little she felt her body giving way, felt her defenses being battered down. Her breasts were so warm they ached. She knew her nipples were tall and hard. Somewhere deep down she felt a wetness growing as her pussy wept.
She lasted for another three minutes, then she brought up her hands and caressed his head, held up her tit for him to get a better bite on, and she groaned in pain/pleasure when he bit her breast.
"Oh, God, but I want your cock again," she said through a moan. "I want your little cock up my twat, or in my mouth. Come on, get my clothes off me. I want to be bare-assed and making love to you. Don't just stare at me, take off all your clothes, you mad little fucker!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They raced to see who could strip quickest. He beat her. He lay down on the couch first and held open his arms. She went down on top of him, hanging a tit into his open mouth, letting him chew on it for a while. Then she dropped down, fitted his stiff boyish prick into her cuntal hole and lowered herself slowly onto him.
"Wow, it works," he said. "Hell, you're on top!"
She assured him that was the case, and began working his cock up and down.
"I'll never make it this way," he said.
She lifted off him, turned around and pulled half of his long, cunt-coated prick into her mouth.
"Holy shit!" Lynn said. "I never thought I'd see anybody...."
He gulped again and then helped her as she began bouncing up and down on his swollen prick. Six good strokes later he had shot his heavy boycum load straight down her throat. She was in exactly the right position, so she never tasted a thing. The first shot half-gagged her, but she was ready for the rest. She came off him and patted his balls.
"Now, you get your clothes on. I'm going to take you out to dinner," she said.
She did, too. Then she explained very carefully why she couldn't have him working there anymore. She gave him fifty dollars for the day and a half, or three and a half, whichever it was now, and he said fine. He laughed.
"I've never had such a job in my life. I get screwed half a dozen times and get paid for it at the same time," he said.
She frowned. "Lynn, you mention just one little squib about the last few days to anyone, and I mean anyone, and I'll call up your school and your probation officer and claim that you tried to rape me. With your record you'd go straight into Juvenile Hall, that's the kid jail," she said.
He looked up and sighed. "Damn it, why didn't it work?" he asked.
"You pushed too hard, Lynn," she said. "It might have worked if you'd been satisfied with a bang once a week or so. But you got possessive, like I belonged to you."
"I goofed, damn it, again," he said.
When he looked up there were traces of tears in his eyes. She wasn't going to let him get to her again.
She dropped him off near his house and drove on home.
There were a lot of things she needed to do. She had to see about that hair set, and she wanted to do some shopping for some of those new clothes the girls were wearing.
She had just finished cleaning up some things in the kitchen when the phone rang.
It was Phil.
"Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to go to a movie. I haven't taken a girl to a flick since I was in high school," he said.
"Love to go to one. What time?" she asked.
"I was driving around, I'm about a block from your place," he said.
"Come on up."
He did. They went through the paper and picked out a movie and drove to the theater.
It was a double bill. He bought her popcorn and a cola at the intermission and they talked.
On the way home they talked some more and, when she asked him if he'd like to come up for a cup of coffee, he hesitated, then said he would.
After she had poured him the cup, she asked him why he had hesitated.
"I didn't want to ... I just hoped that...." He threw up his hands and turned away.
Her damned heart was flip-flopping again. He must have meant that he didn't want to appear to be too eager and scare her off, and then that other half sentence could have been that he hoped that she wasn't going to offer him a dozen drinks and start pulling off clothes.
She grinned at him and sipped the coffee.
"I wouldn't do that, Phil, not what you were thinking," she said. "You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."
"After just a day...." he began.
She laughed. "Phil, you have a very bad habit of starting a sentence and never finishing it. Have you noticed that?" she asked.
"Lt. Colombo tells me the same thing," he said.
"You really dig this police work, don't you?" she asked.
He turned, a glint in his eye.
"When I get my degree I can apply for sergeant, and then in a year and a half I can apply for lieu tenant. That's where I want to go. I figure if I can get past sergeant, I'll have a chance to go on up fast. I'm planning on doing graduate work too, go for a master's degree," he said.
She listened to him talk. So far she had not found one single thing about this man she didn't like. She wondered if he'd ever been married, and if not, why not? At once she knew why, he had been too tied up in his work, too dedicated. Pushing too hard, and going to school. Now, with a little maturity....
"Ruth, tell me about yourself. How you got started, where you grew up, the whole thing," he said.
"You really interested or just passing the time?" she said.
"I want to know. Come on, what are you hiding?" he asked.
So she told him, the whole thing and it took two hours.
He stopped her now and then to ask a question. Somehow she had a feeling he was tape recording it and would remember it just the way she had laid it out.
At the end she went with him into the kitchen where they looked at the clock. It was almost three o'clock.
"Interested in some breakfast?" she asked. He laughed and said he was. They had scrambled eggs, toast, jam, coffee and tomato juice.
Suddenly he jumped up.
"Hey, you've got to work tomorrow. I can sleep until noon, but you've got a store to run," he said.
"Yeah, I guess I have," she said.
At the door he bent and held her shoulders and kissed her lips gently.
"Lady, I like you," he said. "I hope you'll let me come see you again."
She smiled, and kissed his cheek.
"I hope you do come back," she said.
He kissed her again, softly, and she hardly knew when his lips left hers.
"Hey, remember we still have a dinner date," he said.
He went out the door quietly and down the steps to the street.
She leaned against the front door. A small frown crinkled her forehead. She liked this man, this Phil, and she didn't even know his last name.
She walked to the bedroom, turning off lights. Her clothes fell away and she dropped into bed without even brushing her teeth or putting on a nightie. So she'd sleep nude tonight. She did sometimes.
As she lay there she thought back over the day. It had started so ordinary, then that fling with Lynn.
She should never have hired that big-dicked kid. She was sure the next person she hired to help her would be a girl. That was safer. Then she had met Phil, again. She giggled, this time he had his clothes on.
She liked him. He hadn't tried to get fresh or to pet her or get suggestive or suggest a drink or anything. She wondered how he felt toward her? She had an idea that he was being very careful not to foul up anything before it had a chance to grow and develop a little.
Yes, she did like this man. He appealed to her as no man had for a long, long time. And she didn't think of him sexually. She had seen him naked, right? Right. A trim figure, good shoulders, hair on his chest and a lot around his scrotum, and a big healthy heavy worm hanging there at his crotch. So?
He was a man. She thought again about how she had felt that first night when she saw him across the room. His eyes-it had to be his eyes which first attracted her. And that soft, interested smile.
Then she remembered Rob. He was just a kid, but sexy as hell. She remembered how he looked when she took his prick in her mouth. Ruth giggled. As she did she felt her breasts burn. The kid was so sexy. Rob had turned her on like a steam engine, too. But Charlie hadn't. She couldn't even get interested enough in Charlie to let him fuck her.
What was this she had about young boys? No, she refused to believe it. Just because a couple of kids had got to her. Sure, but one was only fourteen. She pushed it away, so what? But as she thought of Rob, and saw his tender hands, the softness of his gently curved buttocks, she realized that she was rubbing her breasts. Her crotch was sweating and threatening to dribble onto the sheets.
A frown dented her forehead. She had been thinking about Phil, a naked Phil, and it hadn't bothered her at all. Now just a thought or two about a pair of teenage boys and she was so hot she could rub herself off.
Her legs spread. She wasn't sure if she did it or not, or if some love goddess were manipulating her cunt. A hand came to her crotch and began strumming. She thought only of Rob now, his soft, tender, young boy-body. God, how good it had been!
She'd like to have a cock always just that age, just that tender to play with, to fondle, to fuck!
Even as she thought it, she knew she would try with every power in her to please Phil, and eventually to woo and marry him, if he would have her. She needed his kind of stability. She had to have it.
But until then, and for all she knew after that, she would look to young boys to give her that spontaneous sexual relief she seemed to need. She hoped that Phil would be able to satisfy her so she wouldn't have to track down little boys and take them to bed.
But as she thought about it, Rob infiltrated her thoughts again and she remembered that she had his telephone number at work. She was sure he could come in to help out, say once a week, maybe on Monday afternoons, that was a slow day.
Ruth lowered her finger to her cunt again and rubbed her fluttering clit.
