Lynn waited, preparing herself-but she was still taken by surprise when the other woman's hands came suddenly up and cupped her naked breast from underneath.
"Uh!"
"Unexpected?"
"Of course it was unexpected."
"My hands cold?"
"A little, sure-uh, umm. God, you're turning me on, Miss Fletcher."
"Name's Violet, Lynn. Are you a lesbian?"
"Nope. Never even played the game. I'm one of those few people Kinsey learned about that have never had any homosexual experiences-uh, umm!" She wriggled, shivering, when the other woman bent to touch her tongue to the tip of Lynn's breast, licking as she held and squeezed the firm and out-surging swells. "Oh-oh, wow-w-ww! Are-are you?"
"Ummm, tasty little redbud-am I what?"
"A ... lesbian?"
Violet shook her head, which swung her tongue back and forth across the bulging tip of Lynn's breast. "Nope. I can swing both ways, though. I do. I have."
"Men or women?"
"Men or women-men and women," Violet said softly.
Now she was playing over Lynn's unclothed vulval bulge with one hand, stroking the lips, tweaking them gently, teasingly letting her fingers creep just inside the slit. And all the while her mouth and other hand were busy, fingers and tongue sliding over the soft silken flesh of the quivering, writhing girl's agitated breasts.
Lynn came very much alive. Tremors ran through her. Tremor after erotic tremor painted an expression of rapture on her pretty face....
-From PALACE OF VENUS
CHAPTER ONE
Pete and Lynn worked in the same office. They were also balling mates and wondered if their boss knew it.
Pete Ryan was Legislative Assistant to the Honorable Eugene R. Wallace, United States Congressman from-a state better left un mentioned.
Lynn Berkley was Legislative Assistant to the Honorable Eugene R. Wallace, etc., etc.
Congressman Wallace was fondly referred to by his legislative assistants as "Comstock." The Hon. Eugene R. Wallace had a blue nose. It didn't show, but it was there. He was nearly as hung up as that Cincinnati attorney who once told the Congress of the United States that masturbation was evil, a sin, and indicated clearly that the frightful hellfire sin was caused, in the main, not by glands but by books and movies. He assumed that the Congressmen, honorable men, all honorable men, agreed. Naturally they agreed. No masturbators, they; they went back to balling their wives, mistresses, secretaries, legislative assistants, pages, etc., etc.
But this is not Eugene R. Wallace's story; this is Pete's and Lynn's story. And right now Pete Ryan and Lynn Berkley are onstage. They are making it.
Tomorrow they begin work on a new assignment, away from the Capitol. The Congressman has been hearing about a place back in the capital of his home state. The Palace of Venus. Venus was the goddess of love of those nasty pagan Romans, and so what she was mostly goddess of was sexual love. Suckin' and fuckin'. Naturally such a report-331 letters, all in identical envelopes and most containing identical phrasing-shakes up the Hon. Eugene R. Tomorrow Pete and Lynn fly home to-to investigate.
But not tonight. Tonight they are still in Washington. Balling.
Pete didn't reply to Lynn's enthusiastic cries. His tongue was otherwise occupied.
Pete was tonguing pussy. It was good, outstandingly good: soft, sweet, succulent, tight-lipped pussy. It was a more than enjoyable pastime and prelude to fucking.
And yet....
Someday, Pete Ryan thought, I'm going to get this darling, beloved, female chauvinist, sweetheart, one-way BITCH all to myself, in my power, and she is going to suck cock! Imagine a woman who grooves on cunnilingus the way this sweet-cunted beauty does-and won't give head! Oh, one of these days, Lynn Berkley....
But meanwhile Pete was enjoying what he was doing.
So was the supine and gloriously naked girl. Her hips undulated and her thighs jerked. Her whole body moved in voluptuous writhings as his tongue probed the darling pliant lips of her moist cunt. It was becoming more and more moist. She could feel it, feel that marvelous tongue slithering over her, slurping up the warm fluids that oozed from her cloven cunt, working at her slit with busy mouth and tongue, caressing the entire furry complex of her vulva with his darling tongue.
His nose pushed against her clitoris, all hot and pink and up and twitching, itching for more and more attention. He heard her cry, felt her jerk her legs violently against his head. She clamped him there between her savory thighs. Sight was gone; sound was dim. He was locked in a world consisting of the taste and the feel and the aroma of her frothing cunt. It was not a bad world at all, and his chin rubbed against the lower lines of her bulging vulva and his tongue dived between pink, fleshy lips.
She kept him well-clamped between her taut-skinned thighs, moving only a little, rotating her hips in gentle circles, loving the way he avidly tongued and sucked and licked her vaginal vestibule until it was turned into a hot slush inside.
The backs of her thighs rested on his arms at the shoulder. His hands skated along her hips, tugging, as he moved forward, upward. His titillating tongue crept upward, just within the wet crack, to the rubbery little excrescence of her clit. She jerked violently. Her thighs pressed in so tightly that she actually hurt him. Her lovebud pulsed as he licked it, sprouted as he tongued it, became a strong, cock-imitating clitoris that sought more and more of what it was getting. Clinging to her hips, he moved his head slightly and his tongue rapidly, following her twitching little movements.
His loving tongue sent fire racing through her every vein and churned up the hot fluids of her sensual arousal. Her entire body grew hot, quivering, frenzied. She stared glassily at the ceiling and moaned and sighed aloud, making little squeaking noises, kitten-weak in rising passion and oncoming orgasm. She was sluicing perspiration from every pore and hunching helplessly to the ardent rubbing of his face into her wet cleft.
She clamped his head more tightly, loving the feel of it there between her strong legs, loving the feel of his hair against the softly sensitive inner surfaces of her thighs, glad Congressman Wallace had finally broken down and let the men in his employ grow hair like the rest of the country, loving the slickering of his warm wet tongue all over her pulsing squirming clitoris.
She pressed harder, smiling. She knew that her thighs and her cunt now engulfed his face, his mouth, his entire head. He was blind and deaf and dumb, using his tongue for a far more delightful purpose than speaking. She lowered her eyes to see her own tits, naked white swells on her chest. They glistened with sweat. And they were alive, lust-swollen demiglobes that joggled and jumped, rippling and jiggling like liquid mountains atop her restless, passion-fired body.
Reaching down with both hands, she pressed a thumb and forefinger around each delicately pink nipple and rolled them, squeezed them, pressed the distended buds and made them hurt. That only increased her moaning, her twitching, as passion rose and rose in her helplessly quivering body.
His tongue continued its slickering caresses to her clit and its sluicing dives into the slippery-slithery wetness of her richly perfumed gash. He loved it. It tasted good, it smelled good, it felt good. The warmth of her savory thighs against his head, the gentle pulsing of her belly against his forehead, the vibrant softness of her cuntlips beneath his mouth.
Lust embraced and engulfed her. Lust surged powerfully in her, and she felt herself rising, floating up ever closer to the heights of rapturous climax. Then it was happening in her, a roaring flame that gutted her inwardly and brought its own liquid to quench itself. Her cunt went juicy wet and contracted spasmatically in a violent, body-jerking orgasm. It brought cries from her throat, rippled her taut little belly, rolled her sweat-slick tits on her chest, jerked and shook her throughout her body.
She didn't take her legs from his head; she felt them sagging to free him. She no longer had control over the muscles of those trembling, sweat-moist thighs that had clamped him so close to the mouth of the deep channel of her passion.
Backing up, gasping for breath and blinking in his new-found sight and freedom, he stared down at the glistening pink oyster between her collapsed thighs. He could see the sweat that flowed from her, now, and hear her shrilling little soprano cries.
Then she was lying there as if dead. He placed a hand flat over the wet mound of flesh at the base of her belly and sat up on the bed, gazing down at the girl sprawled there in lustful satiation.
She was a blonde, but not a natural one, and he was one of the few to know that secret. Her hair was a rippling fan all about her sweaty face, a fan the color of sunshine. But the curling fur that nestled around the vaginal burrow beneath his hand was a reddish-brown, and her eyes were brown and her brows dark, making the color of her hair highly questionable but even more beautiful. Her mouth was wide (dammit, he thought; wide enough for my tool!) and tucked back into lovely long dimples when she smiled. Her face was rather diamond-shaped, but without the prominence of bones that word suggested.
Her shoulders were rather narrow, seemingly designed for a smaller-bosomed woman. Strong, well-curved, plump-sided breasts sprang from her chest or, when she lay on her back as she did now, mounded up like large dollops of whipped cream nicely garnished with the pale berries of her nipples. Her waist dipped in and her hips flowed out, cradling a small and taut-skinned belly and a dramatic vulval bulge. The thighs that had pressed him so closely were slim and firm, running down into calves that had a little more roundness than might have been expected, due to her childhood dancing lessons. They were long legs, and she was rather sensitive about her feet; she wore a size 8.
Put all together, the component parts made a signally sexy whole, a blatantly well-shaped female who also possessed, wonder of wonders, a brain.
And a healthy sexual desire, although he waited now, stroking lightly, because he had learned that she liked to recover completely from her orgasm before he came into her.
Her head stirred. Her eyes blinked. Dimples creased and teeth flashed as she gave him a wide-mouthed smile.
"Oh, darling," she sighed, "that was so beautiful! So good! Please let me be just a little drier for you-and then please come in me."
He lowered his eyes to his cock, which was standing up and out, hard and thick and long, reddish with the pulsing blood that swelled it and its canopied, helmet-like head. It was ready. He was ready. But yes, he'd wait while she dried her cunt a little. She had plenty of juice, and right now he knew she was swimming with it. A woman with a self-lubricating engine was a delight, but a vagina like a lake could be a bit much. Or not enough, as the case might be.
She used a couple of Puffs from the little box on the table beside the bed. Both of them trembled, she at the feel and he at the sight of her pressing the pink tissues between her moist and shiny labia. She sighed again. Then she stretched out both arms to him.
He was just on the point of suggesting that she turn over, that they play the doggie game tonight. But desire and the beauty of her parted pussy got the better of him. He rose onto his knees, between her thighs, and moved quickly into her arms and into her body.
He went into her with consummate ease. He felt the wet silky grip of her labia and inner cunt along the length of his cock. Her hands clutched him. She groaned as she was plugged, in a moment, to the hilt. Then she immediately sought to draw him even deeper into her by rocking her hips gently and grinding herself up against his crotch.
They lay still for a moment, enjoying the feel of their bodies, each pressing the other all along their length, enjoying the union of his turgid, tumid maleness soaking itself in her female chamber.
"Oh, baby, it feels so good-you feel so good inside me!"
"Hot," he told her, nuzzling her throat with his lips. "Hot, and humid, all wet and satiny and-I can feel you all around me, feel...."
"Feel what all around you?" she demanded in a purring voice, reminding him of her predilection for hearing "dirty talk" from him when they were sexing.
"Pussy," he told her. "Cunt, Lynn's slippery, wet, hot pussy all around my fat cock."
She shivered violently and her nails tried to puncture the skin of his back. "Ohhh, god, oh, darling baby-fuck me, fuck fuck, fuck that wet hot pussy with your fat cock!"
Her words, his words from her mouth, affected him as they had affected her from his mouth. He jerked as he felt twinging stabs of lustful heat. They sizzled in his belly and tightened the swollen eggs in his scrotum. He pulled, then rammed back in, shoving his needy prick far in the hidden recesses of her quaking belly. Her arms clasped him in a death grip and she jerked her hips, slapping his cock with her cunt's walls, trying to make his thick shaft swing inside her like the clapper of a bell.
She was far too snug for that, but it was fun to try!
He slid easily in and out of her, his cock gliding, without effort-but his body lunging and cramming and grinding in as though he had to nail it in, as though he were trying to spike her to the bed. Heat seethed through his straining belly. His yearning prick throbbed inside her. It pulsed in involuntary spasms that she could feel as well as he.
He pumped in and out and she rammed herself up to him, again and again. He jerked almost helplessly, stabbing her crotch with his.
His gliding shaft of sensuousness stroked soft, membranous inner flesh like wet nylon. Shuddering, grunting, he writhed over her, letting the distended protrusion of her mons and her wiggly clit feel the pressing strength of his muscular groin. She responded with tumultuous excitement, trembling with lust and hunching frenetically to crush the soft lips of her cock-filled cleft. She increased his passionate drubbing of her by the movements of her hands over his plunging form.
Pulling free of her grasping fingers, he levered himself up in a tense push-up above her undulating, white body. He smiled down at her. Her sleek, softly curved length shone with sweat, a mixture of hers and his. He added to it, droplets of moisture dripping from his body onto hers.
A thin, smoky veil of passion cloaked her dilating pupils. Her hips and the firm, jiggly rounds of her buttocks, freed now of his weight, writhed and ground into the bed. She went into a deliberate horizontal dance, undulating, grinding, bumping, titillating him and letting him know it was completely deliberate by grinning lasciviously up at him.
She humped herself up to him and he saw her shudder at the feel of lust ballooning up within her tensed belly. That upward drive of her sinuous body had buried his cock in the gaping wet mouth of her cunt, all the way to the hairs. The inner chamber was well lubricated, again running and slippery with voluptuous moisture. Yet he felt it tugging at the rigid column of his penis.
He began to suspect that she had an electric engine up her steaming snatch. The tight quivery sheath was drawing at him, sucking his cock, pulling irresistibly at his semen-loaded balls.
She wanted that hot semen in her.
The seething hunger in her dilated cunt was a hurricane of sensation that gusted up into her stomach and forced her to fuck him, hard.
Suspended above her on his palms, he dipped his tightened buttocks again and again, meeting her upthrusts with strong down-driving lunges that plunged him into her as deeply as he could go. The driving pole worked deep, probing into her loins and churning up her inner flesh until it was sloppy with her flowing love juices. They seeped out to mat her dark-furred gap and glisten on the hair of his own crotch.
Jesus, he thought, Jesus Christ, what would it be like to be able to control it absolutely, to jerk it out right now and cream spermy milk all over her, then ram it in and start fucking again, to be able to screw and screw until I was wet and messy with sweat, then just touch the trigger and let it go! This damned necessary drive to orgasm-what's orgasm? A few moments of release; ten seconds' worth of neuromuscular tension release, someone described it. Ugh!
But-it wasn't orgasm that was the goal; it was the getting there, the fucking, the balling, the feel of cunt all around the old cock, the feel of warm sweat-wet femaleness under the old body, the sight of passion-contorted female face, grooving on a snatch full of hot meat-getting there was nine-tenths of the fun, that was it!
He began sending his thoughts purposely out on extraneous tracks, seeking to prolong the actual balling, the fucking, the skewering screwing, to put off orgasm. Fucking was like living; at the other end was the death of orgasm!
He lowered himself onto her and began driving between her parted thighs in spasms of uncontrollable lust.
Her hands clutched and dragged at him, pulling and jerking while she ground her ass into the bed and tightened the cheeks to lift and cram her plugged pelvis up to his plugging crotch. She felt the swinging weight of his balls now, with him lying full weight on her. They slapped the silky softness of her lower vaginal lips as he ran repeatedly in and out of her flowing interior.
Oh, god, this man! He could keep it up for minute after minute, and just when she started to get worried that he'd been nutted, that he'd lost it, that he was ready for a job as harem-guard-then he'd blast her potently with enough sticky semen to populate a planet! He had control; staying power!
She wrapped her arms around him, grinding her tits into his chest and putting up her mouth for his kiss.
She ran her tongue in and out of his mouth in an even, lecherous tempo with the poling in and out of her of his cock.
He strained, and she loosened her arms reluctantly, watching his face rise and rise above hers. The hair that would have to be cropped to stay off his forehead was plastered there now, a thinner sheaf of dark brown than usual. But his eyes-oh, those dark eyes were alive, and untired, and happy. So happy, with their united bodies and the pummeling presence of his big crank inside the fleshy folds of her hot and snugly clutching crotch-hole!
He pulled free to rise to his knees between her spread and sprawled thighs. Holding onto her naked hips and grinning down at her like some kind of mad rapist, he pumped into her swampy cunt. She grinned right back, trying to make it a wickedly salacious look.
His crotch pounded down on hers, whipping his prick in and out of the warm and pulsing lips of her cunt like a carefully measured and closely fitted piston, expressly designed for her chamber.
Then he again stretched upon her. His cock had never left her grasping hole. She loved it, loved it this way, with his smooth hot skin pressing down onto her, covering the full length of her prostrate body.
Her hands moved up to grip, then clasp his shoulders. Her lips pursed in a kiss across the inches separating their faces. And she continued gasping and grunting as he surged into her. Pulling hard as he fucked, he sent his pulse-pounding cock skewering far into the depths of her. She worked to clamp down each time it came deeply in, trying to hang onto the swollen tool that darted in and out of her slithery slit, her seething snatch.
Then she began to gyrate again, jerking her hips and buttocks, straining upward and undulating beneath him until she was gasping with exertion. Her sweat-slick breasts slid about, back and forth beneath his muscular chest. She could feel the hair against her nipples. He was not a hairy man, but that adorning tuft there in the center and the clusters of it about each of his nipples affected her the same way good tits or superb legs on a woman affect a man.
Deliberately, still prolonging it, he pulled his cock all the way out of her. It was bright and slickly shining with her inner exudation.
She whimpered and pulled at him. But he was not to be hurried. He returned it with a teasing slowness, this time watching its swollen head dilate her cuntlips, spread them as the broader shank slid in and in. She sighed, feeling beloved cock come pushing slowly in with a long, slow, sliding action that carried him all the way back to the aching core of her.
He began slamming his flesh onto hers; then, with an ecstatic intensity that had her moaning and squirming and clenching her fingers first in the bedsheet and then in his flesh, his driving cock plunged her soft lips back into her cunt and drilled her deep and hard and fast.
Her arms snapped around him and held him hard on her as he started to come. He pulsed his sperm heavily into her, a soothing balm that sprayed and caressed her wrinkled inner skin like warmed cold cream. With a long, groaning attempt to impale her cervix, he disgorged the last drop of his liquid seed into hot, flowing cunt.
Then he was limp. He lay there jerking and gasping, with his face snuggled into the sweaty pillows of her full soft breasts.
It was a long, long time before either of them wanted to move, to part, or even to think about tomorrow's plane trip.
CHAPTER TWO
This, the capital of his home state, was not Pete Ryan's home. He had grown up in the tiny town that used to be two hours away. Now, with the completion of the Interstate, it was only a little over an hour distant. But he had some few connections here. Guys he had gone to college with-here, at the State University-and others. For the last couple of years he had also maintained a bank account in the Second National and Farmers'. And he was, after all, on the staff of the Congressman.
It began hard, nevertheless. He went from place to place, talked with person after person. They were all glad enough to see him. But they either could not or would not tell him anything about the place called the Palace of Venus. The most he got were a few chuckles, a few grins. Until he went to the bank. Bill Grenell, now senior vice president, insisted that they go to lunch. Over a drink, Pete sort of slipped up on him and learned that the Palace of Venus was a club, a members-only deal.
"Shit!" Pete said. "Here I am on vacation-and I wanted to go to the damned place, see what sort of mischief I could get into." He gave Bill-who was staring rather intently, thoughtfully at his plate-a lecherously conspiratorial grin. Suddenly Pete knew, and he leaned forward. "Bill?"
Bill Grenell looked up. He appeared slightly uncomfortable.
Pete looked straight into the other man's eyes. "You've got a key, Bill."
Bill looked slightly more uncomfortable.
Pete stretched out his arm. His hand came to rest on the table beside Bill's plate. Palm up.
"Pete-"
Pete waggled his fingers, still holding the other man's eyes. Bill couldn't look away, now. He'd been making and refusing loans too (ong not to know what that meant. He worried his lip with his teeth, then sighed.
"I-OK, Pete, I'll take you."
Pete spoke very softly. "I don't want you to take me, Bill. I want to go. I want a loan, Mister Banker. Very short term. But the interest will be good on the loan of your key."
Bill let his eyebrows drift upward. "Interest? Oh?"
Pete nodded solemnly. "Uh-huh. The interest is the same as my collateral, Bill. I work in Washington. I'm on the staff of your Congressman."
Bill changed the subject, which Pete allowed, and they talked about this and that. Bill eventually managed to swerve the conversation into a new track: the enormous grant the State University was just about to get. And the fact that they had their accounts in the First National.
Pete shook his head. "Shame," he said.
"That's a real shame. They ought to spread it around a little, don't you think? Hardly seems fair, keeping all that money, public money, taxpayers' money, in one bank for the enrichment of one group of men."
Bill nodded without changing his expression or saying a word-or taking his eyes off Pete's.
"I think I may have to mention that to my boss," Pete said. "I really do. Maybe he's working too hard for that grant. Maybe if they get it, they ought to open a new account. In another bank. Just to keep it sort of spread around. Community relations, taxpayers' money, and all that. Hmm. I think I better do that, Bill, when I get back to Washington."
On the way back to the bank, Pete got the key....
It was a flat plastic card, pink with white and black letters, same size and shape as a credit card. With a little raised figure on it: the Venus de Milo, except that she had her arms. They were opened wide in welcome.
Well, well, well, Pete thought, driving the rented car back to the motel. So the Palace of Venus is gonna welcome me with open arms, huh? I wonder what then? Hm-and I wonder how Lynn's making out? He grinned suddenly, almost maliciously. Poor baby! Too bad I can't take her with me as a guest!
Each "key" card admitted one person. No guests. And lending the card was frowned upon. But of course, no one would be frowning too hard at the executive vice president of the Second National and Farmers'!
Well, Pete thought, still wearing that rather superior-male grin, maybe she'll be waiting at the motel.
Lynn wasn't. But she had left a note for him.
"The P of V," her ballpoint scribble told him, "is hiring. I'm going job-hunting. See you later. Maybe!"
The woman, the Palace of Venus interviewer-ess, looked about thirty, maybe a little older, and she looked good but far from blatant. Her dark-red hair was pulled back, gold-encircled, and allowed to twist down behind her neck in ringlets. A curling ringlet ran down her jaw just in front of each ear. Her ears were also adorned with large silver buttons of earrings. Without other jewelry, she wore an expensive-looking gray knit dress with a high neck and red piping. Its bodice was nicely filled, but again, without the blatancy of, say, a Playboy Club Bunny. Lynn could see that the woman wore a brassiere, but it was not one of those pointed things that cries out "CHEAP" in stentorian tones.
The woman's eyebrows were normally plucked, her eyes normally made up-with green-and she wore very little lipstick. She was most handsome, having a rather angular face in which the bones were prominent. Lynn loved her long, slim nose. British-looking.
Lynn was well aware of getting more than a once-over.
"Would you mind walking back to the door again, then pausing, turning, and returning," the interviewer asked in a deepish voice. "Just try to be natural, please."
Trying to be natural, Lynn did precisely as she'd been bade. She came back smiling. "You know what? Knowing that I'm walking for you to look me over makes it totally impossible to be natural, Miss Fletcher."
Miss Fletcher vouchsafed her a small smile. "I think it's quite natural of you to say so, Miss-you said Rolland?"
Lynn nodded. "Right. With two l's."
"Um-hm. Well, would you wait just a moment, please?"
Miss Fletcher called in a man. Ridiculously well-dressed, almost old-fashioned. A double-breasted suit so navy it was nearly black, a soft blue shirt, and a blue-and-silver-patterned tie. Shining black shoes, grained leather with small buckles. Black socks. No more hair than a television announcer who tries to be with it at the same time he tries desperately not to make waves.
His name was Bryan. Since she didn't know if that were his first or last name, Lynn called him nothing. He studied her, asked her to rise and walk, asked her a couple of questions: name, age, marital status, whether she was engaged or close to it.
She told him Lynn Rolland, twenty-three, single, unengaged, unencumbered. A lie and three truths. Well-a half-lie. Her first name, after all, was Lynn, although the "Rolland" part was straight off the jacket of a book. He nodded, glanced at Fletcher, and left through a door that fitted perfectly into the wood paneling of the wall.
Fletcher began to ask her questions. Lynn answered, being careful while trying not to seem so.
At last Lynn said, "Look, I understand this is a pretty sexy club, and the girls here make some mighty good money. I want some too. I'm no simpy virgin, and I honestly can't think of anything I haven't done."
Fletcher gazed at her with a flat expression. "I don't think I believe you."
"Well-good grief, I can't very well prove to you here and now that-"
"Yes, you can. We'll see how uninhibited you are, Lynn Rolland." Miss Fletcher leaned back. "Strip."
Lynn .blinked, felt heat rise in her, and forced her hand to come up with her purse. After laying it on the edge of Miss Fletcher's desk, she rose. Facing the other woman, she began stripping.
"Well, I'll be damned," Fletcher said. "I'd have sworn you were wearing a bra!"
"Thanks," Lynn said, and kept peeling.
"Ah,-so that mass of so-blonde hair isn't yours, eh?"
"The mass of hair is," Lynn said, forcing a little smile while she stood there, totally naked, "but the color isn't, no."
"Hmm. We might just ask you to shave your pussy."
She's trying to shock me, Lynn thought. Obviously this was the sort of job that called for a total lack of shockability and inhibitions. Feeling a little chilly in the feet, Lynn nevertheless merely thought more firmly about passing their damned tests.
"I understand that wouldn't be too tough," she said. She looked down between her breasts at her vulva and forced herself to call it by the same word. Normally with her, those words were reserved for bed. "Do men like naked pussies?"
"Some do, very definitely," the other woman said blandly. "They'd also love to believe you're a natural blonde."
"Are blondes so important?"
Fletcher shrugged. "There's an old saying ... Why'd you color your hair-or rather, un-color it?"
Lynn flashed her dimples and gleaming white teeth in a smile. "Right."
"OK," Fletcher said, and for the first time, she rose. She had, Lynn saw, a good body, pretty hippy and with just a little stomach-bulge. No girdle. She came around the desk. Lynn waited, preparing herself-but she was still taken by surprise when the other woman's hands came suddenly up and cupped her naked breasts from underneath.
"Uh!"
"Unexpected?" v
"Of course it was unexpected."
"My hands cold?"
"A little, sure-uh, umm. God, you're turning me on, Miss Fletcher."
"Name's Violet, Lynn. Are you a lesbian?"
"Nope. Never even played the game. I'm one of those few people Kinsey learned about that have never had any homosexual experiences-uh, umm!" She wriggled, shivering, when the other woman bent to touch her tongue to the tip of Lynn's breast, licking as she held and squeezed the firm and out-surging swells. "Oh-oh, wow-w-ww! Are-are you?"
"Ummm, tasty little redbud-am I what?"
"A ... lesbian?"
Violet shook her head, which swung her tongue back and forth across the bulging tip of Lynn's tit. "Nope. I can swing both ways, though. I do. I have."
"Men or women?"
"Men or women-men and women," Violet said softly.
Now she was playing over Lynn's unclothed vulval bulge with one hand, stroking the lips, tweaking them gently, teasingly letting her fingers creep just inside the slit. And all the while her mouth and other hand were busy, fingers and tongue sliding over the soft silken flesh of the quivering, writhing girl's agitated tits.
Lynn came very much alive. Tremors ran through her. Tremor after erotic tremor painted an expression of rapture on her pretty face. The soft, gentle hand cupped in the bowl of her crotch-the careful, knowing lips and tongue at her breasts and their plump nipples-her eyes rolled, veiled, misted over-her mouth came open and she couldn't press its lips together-nor could she press together the parting, oozing lips of the turbulent hollow the other woman's attentions had made of her vagina-she shuddered and squirmed-her own hands jerked spastically, fingers coiling, for she felt strange, embarrassed, standing here and being fondled, without doing-anything....
She staggered back against Violet Fletcher's desk and sagged there, grateful for its support despite the fact that its edge was digging into the tender white flesh of her ass. The fire of passion flickered in her, flamed, threatened to devour her rippling flesh. Lust and the desire and then the need for fulfillment rose in mounting intensity. She twisted-shivered and shuddered-moaned and whimpered--and clutched.
It became mutual. Violet was clothed, but Lynn's hands did all they could through the gray knitted dress. She pressed dress-and-bra-encased breasts, found their tips even through the cloth, and worked at them. She caressed belly and hip and pressed her hand hard against the dress, right over the interviewer's crotch.
Meanwhile, Violet-also moaning and writhing now-continued lavishing lingual attentions on the naked blonde's tits and digital ones on her pulsing, throbbing, elongated clit.
Abruptly it was not there any more. It had dived back into its sheath, and Violet straightened, holding the girl sagging back onto her desk, watching her come and come. It was beautiful. Then Lynn was lying back, heedless of the desk-top clutter prodding here and there into the velvety nudity of her back. She was weak and drained, and she hardly felt Violet's hand leave her.
Rubbing one of her large breasts through her dress and breathing with her mouth open, Violet went around her desk and depressed a key on the intercom squatting there beside the blotter. She said one word.
"Joe."
Lynn was still deep in orgasmic afterglow. She hardly noticed the man who entered. He was not a tall man, nor was he handsome, although he could not have been called ugly, either. His hair was black, full, curling, and he wore a thick mustache that was very black and curved down at the corners of his mouth. Although Caucasian, he wore a dashiki that fell to mid-thigh. And trousers.
He glanced at Violet Fletcher, who nodded at the naked girl lying back and wallowing at the edge of her desk. Joe smiled and dropped his pants. The dashiki stood out before his crotch as he hurried to the squirming blonde with the dark-furred pussy. He could see glistening streaks of its juices on her white, white thighs.
He raised the dashiki to show that he was not small everywhere; his erected cock was not extremely long, but certainly of an unusual thickness.
"Uhu-hmm," Lynn gasped, as the strange man named Joe laid hands on her and hunched close, between her parted legs. Then her butt was being crammed very forcibly back against the desk's edge, and her labia were being very forcibly dilated.
Oh, she thought, as that thick prong came into her, there's no dignity here at all-first that bitch turned me on and now I'm getting dicked by a total stranger! But I've come pretty far now to back out and blow the whole thing-boy, is Pete going to be put down when he finds out I'm INSIDE the Palace of Venus. This is another part of the "interview" and I'd better go along-uh! God, he's got a BIG one! Besides-lesbianism really isn't my thing but it DID get me all excited, and-and-ah, hunnh, how delightful to get a good chunk of cock up my little crack!
His short, wiry body slapped hers hard, grinding and forcing. The exciting lips of her pink-edged cleft spread, dilated, spread even more as he pressed ever deeper and more firmly into her moist depths. Her tits jiggled. She groaned aloud and her hands fluttered. She twisted slightly, hoisted one shoulder to lift that side off the desk, and a fat water-color marker squirted out from beneath her. Joe grinned. That must have left one hell of a mark on her nekkid back!
He grabbed her hips and pulled. At the same time, he pushed hard against the floor with his booted feet. That ground him in deep and brought a gasp-quivering response from the nameless girl who twitched before and beneath him.
He began fucking her, hard, with long steady strokes of unhurried lust.
His heavy, hyper-thick shaft skewered and ground into her sensitized flesh. His crotch hammered away onto the inviting pink slash between the tops of her thighs. She moaned, and he knew the edge of Violet's desk was carving a niche into the girl's asscheeks. They swelled out on both sides, crushed and seeking escape and relief, in twin white bulges of straining ass-flesh. He pulled and pushed and pulled and rammed in again, fucking her hard in a reckless pounding that made her thrash wildly on the desk-top.
Her heated cunt exuded more and more sticky, warm fluid. It bathed his delving prick, slicked the hair of their arching, bouncing crotches. He spiked her hard and deep with rhythmless jerks.
The pain in her buttocks was subsiding as Lynn's passions rose. The twin mounds were becoming pleasantly numb, and she wondered only in a desultory manner how long the deep-etched red mark left by the desk edge would remain across her ass, barring it like a harsh whiplash. She wanted to care. She thought she should. This, after all, wasn't very damned considerate of these arrogant people.
But Christ, it was so damned good!
She found the floor with her feet, grunting as she forced herself slightly forward on the desk. Its edge found new flesh to dent, and it ground happily into her.
Shiver after shiver ran through the white contours of her sprawled body and she gasped and grunted, feeling pain and that too-full sensation, her body dilating all around that monstrously thick shaft of his-but she realized that she was grinding her hips up against his heaving form in a libidinous willingness to swallow and house his cock in her wet vital depths-and to hell with the edge of the desk!
He pulled back until only the dripping crown of his hard erection remained within the soft juicy lips framing her cunt. The vaulted sheath seemed reluctant to let him leave its grasp, pulsing in a tight ring around his sensitive glans. Her eyes rolled, focused, fixed on his. He saw her bite her lip. Then she strained toward him, coming half up off the desk.
He grinned.
He knocked her onto her back again by ramming her absolutely full of cock, cramming it in to the balls and grinding to try to plug them in, too. "Ah," she groaned, jerking her head to and fro on Violet's desk, "ah-agghhhh!"
Repeated slaps of his hard masculine pelvis against hers jarred her, filled her with fiery jolts, and set her naked tits to quivering and jiggling, jelly-like. Despite her wet loosening up, the elastic pink rim of her cunt clung happily to his thick and rock-hard tool. She groaned aloud and squeezed her eyes shut when he began jerking his hips. Now he screwed her with a sawing motion into the soft rubberiness of her gently clinging, clasping, vaginal walls.
Watching them, Violet hoisted her skirt to display a shaven, childishly naked but very swollen mons veneris. She dipped two fingers into the hot steaming hole in its center and her knees buckled and her eyes shuttered. With her eyes fixed on the balling couple a few feet away, she began ramming her fingers in and out of herself, swiftly and with far more roughness than might be expected of a masturbating woman.
Totally naked but now wearing a thin sheen of perspiration, Lynn lay sprawled obscenely back across the desk. Her jutting pink nipples were erect, standing high above her juddering breasts. The edge of the desk gouged into her squirming rump. Her thighs ran out from the desk at an angle, like twin ski-slopes, then bent at the knees and ran straight down to where she was pushing desperately at the floor with her toes.
The soft inner folds of her vagina gripped her bailer's cock firmly, lovingly, and built a fire in his tightening balls.
He backed his swollen tool out of the hot, wet, slithering pussy of this newest interviewee, until its big-knobbed head was only just encased within her labia. Then he rammed hard with both legs. He plunged back up her, scrotum-deep.
She jerked in a semi-convulsion and made a strange little squeaking noise as what felt like a beer bottle came back up her straining quim, fat end first. Her squishy slit accepted it with squashy wet sounds.
Not understanding the perverse whimsy that made her do it around such a hugely proportioned prong, she clenched her inner muscles cleverly. That made him groan, as she threatened to crush his cock in her hot, clutching softness! It was also the final pressure he needed.
Instantly, he stiffened and started pumping his hot load into her. It shot into her straining vaginal hollow with a constant angry spitting. He stood there and plastered himself against her, grinding harshly in and mashing her down and down, until he had expended his entire load.
The words slipped out of her. She didn't intend to say, in a sighing voice, "Ohhhh ... baby!"
With a sigh, Joe clapped both hands fondly to her hips and pulled his cock out of her sodden hole. It emerged with a wet sucking sound, to be followed by a rush of thick cream. Stepping back, he dropped his dashiki over his slimily glistening prick and picked up his pants.
"Hire her," he said to Violet, on his way out. He had never said a word to Lynn.
She sprawled there, blinking. He-he never even touched my tits! she thought. How could he resist...?
"Hop up, Rolland," Lynn heard Violet's voice say, and after a moment she realized that she was "Rolland." The other woman was walking across the office. "Here's a bathroom-douche and come out at once, please, if you still want this job."
"Whew!" Lynn straightened up, then slid down a little to get her feet on the floor. "Oh-aoww! I'll have a mark on my tail for a week!"
"No, no," Violet said kindly, "just a few minutes, dear. One thing bothers me, despite what Joe said. I didn't see you come."
"I-I-Christ, I had just done!" Lynn cried defensively. She was gathering her clothing, limping a little, trying to walk and bend without moving her butt, which was quite impossible.
She did not want to tell the other woman that she had never come in her life, with a man in her. Her clitoris needed manual or lingual stimulation before it would trigger her orgasms. Nothing too unusual about that-but she thought maybe it was a no-no around here.
She limped to the door Violet held open. The woman's face had gone impassive again. "Snap it up, Rolland," she said.
"Call me Lynn, will you?" Lynn entered the bathroom. The fluorescent lights were just flickering on.
"Uh-huh, OK, Lynn-but I prefer Fletcher."
Lynn reached for the door. Fletcher made a gesture with her hand, shaking her head.
"Leave it open."
"Good grief."
"You hung up, Lynn?"
"Boy, this testing goes on forever, doesn't it?"
Fletcher chuckled. "Yeah. Forever. The other day the boss sent Joe and another guy in for me. Before I half knew what was happening I was flat on the floor, right over there, and Joe was eating my tits while this other dude shagged me like crazy."
Lynn was shivering, sitting there; the bidet-water was cold!
"What-what'd you do, Fletcher?"
"Do? Hell, I came!" Fletcher said, and she strode back to her desk. She sat down, studied some papers and a large ledger.
"Lynn," she called, "we need you tonight. Can you stand a hundred bucks tonight?"
Lynn shivered. Gawd, after being lezzed into orgasm and dicked with the town's fattest tool, she was expected to start right off, doing-whatever she was going to be doing. Being a very high-class whore in a very high-class whorehouse, she assumed. This interview and the tests certainly weren't to determine her IQ!
"Uh-yeah, yes, OK, sure," she called, getting her skirt up over her hips and running the zipper up. "All I have to do is...."
"We'll need you in just a little over an hour," the other woman said. "And there's things you have to learn, too. You'd better just stay, eat here, and, ah, cram for your finals." She chuckled. "Tonight."
Lynn emerged from the bathroom, feeling much more comfortable and in command of herself within the armor of clothing. She'd been very much aware of her own nudity; more so than she would have had the other two not retained most of their clothing. She presumed Joe was the house stud. Drop the pants, no shorts, plug in, and fuck the interviewee. With dashiki and boots on. Nice work if you can get it, she mused, thinking of Pete and wondering how he'd like that job.
"Oh, now look, I didn't come out here to-to stay, as of right now, Fletcher. I mean...."
Fletcher looked up at her with that flat, implacable gaze. "Oh. Well. In that case I think you'd better forget it. We need you now. I expect I can persuade some others to put in a little extra work tonight, double up-and there's a girl in the maybe class I could hire for tomorrow."
Lynn sank weakly into the chair in front of Fletcher's desk. The pressure, she mused, really stayed on around here! Palace of Venus-maybe. But if she was going to be one of the Venuses, she'd need tranquilizers just to counteract the constant feeling of being leaned on, pushed, used by the management here. Palace of Hysterium!
"I'll stay."
"Good," Fletcher said, without changing her expression. She passed across the desk what appeared to be a menu. Tall, embossed front: a white Venus de Millo,-with welcoming arms on a pink background, decorated with little blue-and-white cherubs in the corners. Their arrows were not of the usual variety-the heads were definite cockheads.
Otherwise the stiff, shiny folder resembled a menu from an expensive, or at least pretentious, restaurant. Lynn flipped it over, half expecting to find a wine list. The back was blank, totally blank.
"Open it up and familiarize yourself with the bill of fare here," Fletcher said, making entries in her ledger. "One thing you're going to need to do just as fast as you can do is memorize that first sheet. Each customer is handed one when he comes in. And a pencil."
Blinking, wondering, Lynn opened the "menu." Her eyes widened and her brows went up. Menu indeed-there across the top of each of the two sheets of paper bound, with pink-and-white braided cord, into the folder were the words "BILL OF FARE."
The thing looked like a multiple choice exam.
BILL OF FARE
I PARTNER [ ] female [ ] male
II ACTIVITY
A Normal intercourse (position of your choice)
B Oral; receive
C Oral; give
D All of the above
[] None of the above (special arrangements may be made at a slight difference in rate)
E Anal; give
F Anal; receive
G "Seduction"
H "Rape"
III EXPERIENCE
I Aggressive
J Seductress; seducer
K Persuadable
L Willing
M Submissive
N Slavish
O Illusion of inexperience
IV DISCIPLINE (plus 10%)
[ ] Active (give) [ ] Passive (receive) P None Q Mild R Medium S Severe
T Chambre de Sade
BILL OF FARE
2: Female Partner
[Please indicate 1st and 2nd choice in each category, if possible.] A: AGE
1 teen
2 twenties
3 thirties
4 older
5 SPECIAL*
6 NO PREFERENCE (-10%)
B: HEIGHT
1 short
2 medium
3 tall
4 6' or over
5 NO PREFERENCE
C: SOMATYPE
1 skinny
2 slim
3 average
4 buxom
5 fat
6 NO PREFERENCE
7 SPECIAL*
D: HAIR, COLORING
1 blonde
2 brunette
3 redhead
4 brunette
5 NO PREFERENCE
E:CLOTHING
1 boudoir
2 exotic
3 underwear only
4 nude
5 party
6 street
7 other*
8 NO PREFERENCE
.SPECIAL: Please specify to attendant; you vised if special rate prevails.
CHAPTER THREE
Shaking his head, Pete reached the bottom of page 2, Female Partner, and returned to the top of the first sheet.
Wow, he mused, now this is what I call class! Hell, I'm getting a hard-on already, just looking at this Bill of Fare and thinking about it!
Could it be real? Could he really check, say, A-l on the second sheet, "teen," and then "N" for slavish and "S" for severe discipline (!) and-he licked his lips and felt the package in his pants getting fatter and more obstreperous. And then B and E and H-to indicate that he wanted to get head, then to rape his teen partner in the ass?
Pete shook his head again. Lord! What a place! Open these up around the country, make 'em legal, inspect 'em regularly, Health Department inspection, that is, and-the country's fresh out of rape, and crimes of violence will be cut in half. Not to mention the divorce rate!
He returned his eyes to the "menu," shaking his head and blinking. Suddenly he remembered what his parents had told him so many times when he was growing up: sometimes eyes are bigger than stomachs, son, and don't take more on your plate than you can eat.
Deciding to start off slow and easy, then, he checked off A, B, L, and P on the first sheet and, on the second, A-2, B-2, C-3. He gazed at that a moment, then used the eraser and changed his choice of body type to C-4, buxom (what the hell!). And he checked off D-5 and E-2. Then he touched the little bell and, trying not to look excited, handed the folded Bill of Fare to the girl who came at once.
She made him wonder. She was OK, not repellant or ugly or anything, but only minimally attractive and not much in the shapely department. The long, white-booted legs running down out of her pink miniskirt were far from calfy, and the front of her low-necked body shirt of white jersey couldn't be said to be "bulging." He hoped there'd be a lot of contrast between her and Miss A, B, L, P, A-2, B-2, C-4, D-5, E-2.
Then a short, dark man appeared, smiling. "Would you come with me, Mister Cooper?" he asked pleasantly, using the fake last name Pete had given him. Pete nodded, rose, and followed the well-dressed little guy through a plushy drapery of deep pink velvet and down a carpeted, pink-lit corridor flanked by doors at regular intervals. He paused before one, glanced at Pete, and knocked.
"Come in," a rather high-pitched female voice called, sounding as if its owner were trying to lower its tenor.
Pete glanced at the dark little man-and then jerked his head the other way. The man was walking away back up the corridor, his booted feet silent on the deep-pile carpet.
Good grief, get it together, little boy, Pete told himself, when he realized that his hands were damp. He turned the knob and opened the door to enter a darkened room. The floor was carpeted, deep-pile gold. The furnishings were very handsome: a loveseat, broad long couch, two big easy chairs, some tables and ashtrays. The lighting emanated from the walls themselves, where they met the ceiling, and the illumination was-pale red. Pink. Very sexy.
So was the woman who came to meet him as if he were an old friend. Her black hair curled slightly just at her rather broad shoulders. Her eyes were made up, making them look enormous and very dark, while her lips, left natural, were a glowing pink in the strange lighting. She was pretty, sensuous looking, with a sexy mouth and a lovely smile.
He had checked off E-2, exotic dress, to see what that meant to these people in this age of do-your-own-thing, when street clothes often were more exotic than those Pete remembered from Flash Gordon.
He saw at once that it meant exotic dress indeed. His brothel thoughts vanished as she approached him, wearing low-slung, hip-hugging pants with a broad waistband and five shining black buttons down the front. Belled at the bottoms and tight above, the pants were a medium purple hue. The blouse she wore had to be one of those snap-crotch affairs, because it fit her as if it had been sprayed on. It sported an enormous standing collar that he supposed could become a turtleneck if the zipper were run all the way up. He was surprised that the blouse was long-sleeved, the sleeves just as tight as the body. The body of the shirt was navy blue, the collar and sleeves a medium red.
It was definitely not zipped up into a turtle-neck, but way way down, so that she was showing him one hell of a lot of deep dark cleavage mounded high on either side by jiggly white breast-flesh. Her big tits were decidedly alive and lively in there, and they hadn't made the acquaintance of a brassiere. Not lately, anyhow.
She was a C-4 for buxom, all right!
"Pete! Oh, I've missed you, darling! Yo-landa's missed her man!"
He was just starting to wonder what her name really was-surely not that exotic "Yo-landa"-when she reached him, wrapped her arms around him, rammed her big jugs into his chest, and gave him a very warm kiss. In seconds he was returning it with fervor. Their tongues played with each other as if they were old friends.
"Ummmmm," she hummed, pulling slightly away and leaving him blinking, half overpowered by her Arabian Nights perfume. "That's my Pete, all right! Here, let me take your coat."
"Thanks, Yolanda," Pete said, feeling a little dizzy and working hard to go along. These people not only knew how to make it easy, they knew how to make it Class with a capital "C"!
His eyes stared at the way her big rump-cheeks worked around inside those tight-assed purple pants when she took his coat and carried it across the room to hang it, very carefully, over a chair. From over there, she turned and said, "Want a drink? Got some Scotch. Water? Soda?"
"Sounds great, Yolanda. About half soda, please."
She sighed as she went, butt-pistoning-tits-jiggling, over to a little sideboard. She gave him a sidelong glance from beneath long and intensely dark lashes. " 'Please!' That's one word you never have to use with me, darling. Half and half, upcoming!"
"I'm crazy about that outfit, Yolanda."
"Umm-thanks! I love it too-and it's just as easy to get out of as a dress, you know. Are you staying, Pete? Got plenty of time or are you rushed?"
"No rush," he said, going over to her and studying her nice back, perfectly moulded in the stretch blouse, and her broad shouders-then letting his eyes drop again to the magnificent jut and flare of her butt. He felt a very real desire to press himself up against it-and then realized. She worked here. He was a just a client. Presumably she had already been apprised of his preferences. She was certainly A-2, B-2, C-4, and E-2, and her attitude was about as III-L as a man could desire without having a woman strip and flop on her back with her legs open. He assumed that she was also ready for some II-B and-A, and that any sort of sexplay (short of discipline!) was acceptable/agreeable/expected.
So he moved up close behind her and pressed his swollen crotch against her where her pants were stretched the tightest. Bending forward the small amount necessary as she half leaned over the sideboard, he slid his arms around her. He cupped her large breasts, with gentle fondness.
She immediately began moving, squirming her body slightly like a dancer-or a woman being fondled by her lover. She pressed her large warm bottom back against his crotch and sighed.
"Um! Oh, Pe-ete! You sure you want a drink?"
"Um-hm. I think one'll be enough, though-we can share it. I've got some more clothes I need to get rid of."
"Uh-ummm! You keep playing around that way with my breasts, man, and I'll have to get rid of some, too."
"Good," he said. He was fondling; she was stirring his drink.
"Ice?"
"Sure," he said, now fondling the seemingly pressurized naked flesh that was seeping out of the V-front of her blouse as if straining to break free. The swollen crotch of his pants strained hard against her voluptuously ripe butt.
"You a tit-man, Pete?"
"You'd make any man a tit-man, Yolanda."
"Hmmm, how nice you do talk!" She turned, slowly, ready to stop if he showed a reluctance to release her breasts. "Drink, lover," she said, proffering it.
He sipped. "Good! Thanks, doll-want a bite?"
She chuckled. "You know I don't drink, darling!"
"Oh, well-I thought maybe you'd grown out of that."
She gave him a sidewise look, with heat. "If you don't ... Remember that I'm no child, darling; maybe I'd better do something about your memory."
"You'd better do something about my pants first, honey," he told her, sipping again and touching her cheek. "I think they're about to split."
She touched the bulging crotch. "Oh, wow-yeah, that's bad for the cloth, really bad. Here, be still now...."
He remembered to sip, but he didn't get much of the drink knocked back in the next few minutes. But he did get himself divested of pants and shoes, then shorts, and she was undoing his shirt buttons when he reached around to caress one of her sexy rearward hemispheres. She shuddered, hummed a little sigh, and put her face up. They kissed again, and again their tongues went after each other with a vengeance.
"That," he said, "is definitely a predatory tongue!"
She gave him a tantalizing smile. Deliberately, she ran that pointed pink tongue over her lower lip. Lip and tongue sparkled with moistness. Her hand, meanwhile, was gliding over the swollen pouch of his shorts.
"Get 'em off," he said.
"Right," she breathed. Her hand passed over his midsection. "I sure do love this belly, Pete...."
"Used to fat ones?"
She sighed. "Let's don't talk about that now, OK? Let's say I'm pleased with Pete."
"We're even, then," he told her, and knocked back the rest of the Scotch and soda. She peeled off his shorts. She was standing before him, and she bent forward as she pushed the briefs down his legs. He felt the warmth of her breath on his standing prick, and he closed his eyes at the ripple of delight that went through him.
"Umm, that's pretty," she told him. "Want to sit down, darling?"
"I think that's a damned good idea, since I'm in danger of falling down," he said.
She giggled-an honest, girlish giggle. "I like you! You're-natural, you know?"
"Because you are, I guess." He wrapped an arm around her and wended couchward, setting the glass down on the sideboard as they left it for more inviting furniture. She snuggled close, ambling along beside him.
"You-don't live here, do you, Pete?"
"Huh-uh. Borrowed a cute little card from my banker, Bill Grenell." He wondered if they were breaking rules, talking honestly and departing from the old-friends-and-lovers illusion.
She sighed again. "Oh, yeah. He can loan you that card any time, man," she said. They reached the couch. Pete kissed her again, and she teased his hard-on by standing on tiptoe and rubbing the buttons of her pants against it and his tightening scrotum. They sank down onto the couch together, holding the kiss, fondling, exchanging breaths and little moans.
Pete eased his mouth slowly back from hers and their eyes locked for long seconds. Then he said, "I think you'll be more comfortable on the floor, darling."
"Umm-want me to get out of these clothes?"
"In time," he said, feeling perverse. "Let's just keep them on for awhile."
She chuckled. "If I can kneel in 'em! Clothes come so tight these days, they aren't designed for much activity." She slid down, brushing most of the length of her body down his naked leg as she went to her knees on the gold carpet before him. Her left breast caught for a moment on his thigh, bulging half out of the skin-hugging blouse.
"Urn, ohhhh, look at that beautiful thing!" she said, and then Pete gasped and sagged as her head came forward into his crotch.
He sat there and looked down at her, watching, feeling, delighting. Delicately extending her tongue, she excited his already hard tool by running her wet warm tongue all around the big knobby glans. He trembled, already yearning to fit the swollen tip into the receptacle of her pretty face and ram for her very throat.
He had a sudden wild vision of hot thick steaming come, gushing down into her belly like a downspout during a heavy rain.
She licked and kissed his erect penis while her hands slid over his thighs and through the hair of his groin, then fondled his hanging balls. She paused, looked sensuously up at him from beneath those black, long lashes, and opened her mouth wider. He watched in growing agony of need and want while her soft pink lips came gliding down over the thick head and then on down the pulsing stem of his erection.
He shivered. Her mouth was a tourniquet about his throbbing cock; exquisite sensual pleasure was a tourniquet about his nerves.
She snugged her teeth around the bulky red meat and bore down strongly on it, worshiping his thick cock with mouth and lapping tongue. She began pumping it, slowly, with her circled lips, sucking with passion at the hairy-based, red shank that lewdly protruded from her straining face. It was fellatistic love: oral, dental, lingual, labial oscular love, and he could hardly stand it.
Leaning a little forward, he pushed his hands into the wide V of her mostly unzipped blouse. He slid his hands over the bulging white balls of flesh and cupped his hands tenderly around them. He could feel their nipples through the slinky, stretchy fabric of the blouse, and he rubbed them up to tight protrusions that stretched the cloth a bit more.
She writhed, wiggled, moaned. Her tongue slithered furiously, curling and writhing wetly over the thick shaft stuck between her juicy lips. Clamping his teeth, he slid his fingers over her breasts, over the blouse, and his thumbs and forefingers pressed the firm bulges of her nipples beneath the cloth.
"Ummmmmmmm-mmm," she sighed around his cock, and suddenly she was sucking wetly on it, in a thoroughly devoted way that soon made his prick feel ready to burst-as if mouthing his member were her single great joy. Squirming while he pressed her still-clothed breasts and pinched their hardened nipples, she sucked cock, tugging on his hot throbbing meat with her lips and inner oral tissues.
"Yolanda," he murmured. 'M-mmm?"
"I-I think-you'd better-get those clothes off!" He spoke with difficulty. He was groaning, moving, hunching to force his cock down her throat. And he didn't want to do that. He wanted to see her naked big body, and he wanted to plant his prick and then his seed inside it.
She slid her loving mouth off the meaty staff very, very slowly.
Then she stood up, smiled at him, and started unbuttoning her pants. She was standing no more than a foot from her seated "lover," and he watched the slow emergence of her hips as she inched the tight hip-huggers down those broad hips.
Her blouse was indeed one of the snap-crotch affairs. A couple of errant hairs peeked coyly out around it where it was stretched taut over the bulge of her love-mound. Swaying slightly, she ran the pants on down, bent forward to touch his lips with hers and she stripped them off her feet, then straightened.
His eyes watched with heated ardor while she unsnapped the blouse's crotch, using both hands. Then the stretch fabric was unstretching, leaping up her rounded belly, and he was gazing at a V-shaped maze of dark curls. They decorated the sexy intersection of her shapely torso and the white, fleshy columns of her thighs.
"Beautiful," he murmured, and he meant it. Then she peeled the blouse the rest of the way off, gave her hair a shake, and stepped close. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she bent slowly forward. Like a pair of ICBM nosecones with deep rosy-brown tips, her big breasts came swinging forward and down, more and more ... She was allowing them to dangle before his face, bringing them to the mouth that she was sure wanted to taste them.
He tasted them. He licked the tip of each elongated sphere, then returned to suck the nipple of the first into his mouth. She sighed and quivered. Her nails dug into his bare shoulders. He was caressing her swollen nipples with eager lips and tugging at them with slowly increasing suction. She quivered and moaned, feeling his mouth suck in the dark tips of those overripe fruits, feeling him dabbing at them with his tongue, teasing them with his teeth. Each nipple tightened into a fat, rigid core that rammed out into the air from the pulpy white flesh of her big tits. She couldn't help leaning in closer to press the gorgeous masses firmly against his face.
Then she groaned and jerked almost violently when he grasped her bulging, black-curled mount. He pressed one knuckle in and in until it had parted the lips and was nudging inside her. Licking and sucking her nipples while she stood there shivering and moaning, he straightened the finger out. Inside her. She groaned aloud and lurched when he snaked it out of her. There was a lewdly slushy sound as it popped from between fleshy, moistly clinging labia.
She was sighing, gasping, moaning constantly now, and her entire body was shaking and shuddering in her helpless arousal. And he wanted, almost with a feeling of desperation, to plunge his hard-on into the slick sheath that had so briefly housed his finger.
He tugged. She was more than willing to come down onto the couch with him, all that big woman flowing down with shuddering thighs and hot, nervously rippling belly, and her breasts quivering and panting like great white dumplings. Then she was half under him, still struggling to get herself in position, pulling at him, panting and staring at him with excited eyes.
Her legs were open and her craving cunt seemed to be staring him in the face. Eager, puckered lips glistened with the flowing moistness of her exicitation. She pulled, hard, and he lunged forward onto the big-woman pillow of her, impacting her belly with his and her great pillowing lumps of succulent tit-flesh with his chest.
"Uh!" she grunted-but in neither discomfort nor anger. Her left arm clasped him close, her right thrust between them to wrap its fingers hotly around his cock. She held the base of the thick shaft firmly between her fingers, steering the rounded glans into the crease between her soft, fleshy labial petals.
He felt the caress of her moistened cuntlips, and he saw the flare of her eyes and her beginning smile when she felt the pressure, felt his cock coming into her body. Rapturous little sounds gurgled up from her throat. Her body yearned passionately up to his, soaking up his warmth and sharing hers.
He no longer needed the guidance of her hand. He felt it slither away to caress his hip as he took over.
He pushed on in, hard, sliding into an excited and welcoming cunt that was already twitching and humid with its moist warm secretions. Her belly and thighs tensed and quaked in a sudden seizure of soaring desire.
"Oh, lover! You feel good in me!"
He had to duck his head only a little to kiss her. Her lips nibbled and she exerted the muscles of her neck to thrust her face up to his.
"It's mutual," he gasped, into her mouth. "You ... feel damned good!"
She sighed and let her head fall back. Gripping his hips, she thrust upward, several anxious times. "Oh, Jesus, Jesus Christ-so many fat old men, all here because they have money and fat old wives-and a stud like you comes along!"
That outburst made his ego and his macho soar!
He buried her under an avalanche of resounding thrusts. His belly smacked hers and his cock drove frenziedly into her vaginal corridor. It expanded within her until she stared at him in surprise. She felt stretched to bursting with the blood-heated warmth and swollen thickness that throbbed inside her like an iron heart.
Pressing his body down onto hers, he began shoving his tongue in and out of her sweetly puckered lips in rhythm with his penile thrusts into her lower mouth. Its lips, too, were puckered sweetly, sucking at his prick in ecstatic delight. Her slippery body slithered beneath him as he let himself go and buffeted strongly in and out, poking her deep with his rigid meat.
His taut-clenched ass rose and fell rapidly between her splayed thighs.
He was grinding and humping, riding the bulging firmness of her crotch and loving the undulant movements of her cradling hips.
Her feet pushed and levered her up against him, sucking away at him in her possessive pussy with an amazingly educated constrictor vaginae inside that silken tightness.
"Fuck," she groaned, pulling at him, jiggling against him. "Fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck me hard...." Her words were slurred with passion.
Even her eyes were afire, burning with the fire of an insatiable lust as he drove hard and ground into her grasping cunt.
Propping himself suddenly up onto his toes, he drilled the pulsing meat in to heighten the erotic friction in her hot hole. Delicate layers of spongy inner flesh squeezed his fiery brand and made it throb even harder.
She was a big woman, and strong, and with him thus, doing push-ups above her, she was totally free to move. She moved. Her pelvis twisted and arched in lust, thrusting up to take in every inch of his stone-hard prick. Her face was wildly twisted with passion, her pink lips writhing back over her gleaming teeth and her nostrils flaring. She moaned with desire under the hard body pummeling down onto hers. Her big breasts rose and fell in great white mounds, plunging and heaving with her exertions. Their dark, aroused peaks jutted upward as if seeking to pierce his chest. His crotch slapped hers, slapped, slapped, and suddenly she was wantonly bucking and bouncing, her moist dark cunt-hole sucking at his cock with cyclonic intensity.
Then, much surprised, he was watching her come. And come.
The silken walls of her thirsty gulf began contracting and convulsing around the throbbing fleshy hardness of his cock as she sighed and jerked her way to blessed sexual relief.
"Ah-ah-unnnnnnnh-oh, oh, god lover-give it to me now, give it to me hard and fast! Oh please...."
He collapsed on her. His hands swooped down and under to sink their fingers into the fleshy softness of her big buttocks. He dragged them up to himself as he pounded down into that orgasmically clasping furrow. Her elastic sheath added to his prick's slipperiness with the warm fluid of her oiling, climax-flowing inner glands. His fingers dug more deeply into her squirming, sweating asscheeks. He jerked and lunged, plunging in and out of her widespread vulva and making certain that the swollen glans drilled to the very bottom of her cunt-hole.
Her pink-lipped pussy got it all, every centimeter.
Blood pounded behind his ears, and he rammed her violently. Her enthusiasm, her big, cushioning body, the firm, sweat-slippery pressures of her tits under his chest-all of it created a fantastic lustful surging inside him. And finally, her coming under him, her coming while he was stroking his meat into hers-that was a tremendous source of delight that heightened his rapture and his desire to blast her full of spermy fluids.
She was still just as enthusiastic. She wildly humped her ass in his hands, urging her cunt up his tool, matching him thrust for thrust and stroke for stroke with her lithe and so-sensual body.
He stiffened. "It's-I'm...."
"Oh, I know, I know!" she cried, grasping him with both arms and pulling him close. "Do, do-come, come, come in me, you beautiful man!"
That he did, his organs bursting in a shower of semen that flooded into her vaginal depths to bathe the tiny mouth of her womb. He groaned and strained into her, releasing her asscheeks and gripping her shoulders tightly as he jerked out his orgasm to send semen into her in pumping convulsions.
She groaned and moaned the whole time it was slamming into her, and when he collapsed weakly she held him close, pillowed on her vast bust, and crooned to him while she kissed his ear.
To break away at last, get into his clothes, and leave that room was sheer hell. He wondered if the management would be pissed off at her. She was still lying there on the couch, sprawled with legs wide open. She had one foot on the floor and a smile on her face, and she was snoring softly.
CHAPTER FOUR
In another room of that same building, Lynn Berkley-"Lynn Rolland"-waited nervously. The room was a living-room setting similar to the one in which Pete, unknown to her, had just enjoyed one of the attractions of the Palace of Venus.
Lynn wore a black wet-look blouse and miniskirt, over nothing but barely see-through black hose. Refraining from scratching her crotch was not easy. It itched. Every hair on her mound had been carefully shorn by a nurse on the Palace of Venus staff. The nurse doubled as a whipping Venus for those male clients who were so inclined, but she had curbed her sadistic instincts while wielding her razor over the new girl's pudendum. Lynn's fingers curled and trembled, wanting to scratch.
A tallish, rather skinny girl entered, gave Lynn a brief smile, and handed her a little card. Then she departed quickly. Lynn's heartbeat stepped up as she scanned the three letters on the card. They were A, B, N. Her heart began pounding even harder and faster.
Oh, my god. Some dude named Jim wants me to be a slave, and to suck his dick, and then to screw with him. A slave! And-and put my mouth on his penis-/-I've never done that!
It did not occur to Lynn that it was odd for a sexually liberated young woman such as she never to have performed fellatio-or, indeed, to have put her mouth on a man's sexual parts at all.
It had begun with an aversion to the act, back in high school. The school janitor had caught Lynn balling with Davey Stein, standing up, in the boiler room. The janitor had tried to blackmail her by making her suck him off. He actually had the frightened girl on her knees before him, his hands in her hair, when she rebelled. The reason was she had smelled his crotch. The man stank of sweat, the usual odor of the sexual parts that becomes so strong with infrequent bathing, and stale urine. All of it assailed her nostrils.
She had gagged and squirmed away. Then she had fled the boiler room. And for some reason the janitor had never turned her in. After that, Lynn Berkley not only had avoided him assiduously; she had never put her face anywhere near a man's sexual paraphernalia. But she certainly hadn't stopped balling! She dug it!
And now....
She sighed. I guess I'm about to give my all for my country, she thought, or something like that. Congressman Wallace is part of the government, anyhow-and here I am, playing secret agent by-by being a very high-class call-girl! And for crissake, my very first client wants me to be N for slavish, and he wants me to be B for suck cock, and then finally we get down to the good stuff, A for "normal intercourse."
She pressed her lips firmly together. All right, then!
I'm a slave, she thought. I'm a slave. I do whatever I'm told. Whatever I'm told-including-sucking-cocks.
She glanced at the card again. The man's name was Jim. That was all she was given, and her instructions were to call him by name-unless he obviously wanted a real slave. Then it was "Sir" or "Master," or whatever he told her to call him. Well. She certainly hoped the dude had bathed recently!
The door opened. Enter Jim. His face was neither ugly nor handsome. His hair was receding-early, because he looked no more than thirty-and had been a reddish-brown mass of tight curls. He wore fancy-cut sideburns and had a rather cute, boyish nose and pale blue eyes. His clothing consisted of an expensive-looking jacket, sport shirt, and pants. They were all various shades of blue, and the pants were just barely flared at the bottoms. He was about 5'8", which passed for medium height except on a basketball floor, where he'd have been a midget.
Jim looked like a very mild, nice guy. Like the standard stereotype of an accountant or bookkeeper.
She remembered to get up, smiling, and start toward him. "Oh, hello, I've been looking forward to this-Lynn has missed...."
"Yeah, right," he said rather impatiently. "Lynn, hmm? Well, fix me a Scotch, Lynn; one ounce over ice, nothing else. You didn't call me Jim or anything else, I notice."
Gulp! How does a slave act, dammit? I'd be more comfortable and able to do a better job, I think, if I were naked and wearing some big old slave bracelets-either that or a harem-girl outfit! Come on, Lynn-don't blow it!
That reminded her that she would be doing just that, soon enough-blowing him.
She lowered her head and stared at the floor. "I-don't think I should call you by your name-Sir."
"Very true, girl. Say, tell me true now. Are you new here?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Brand new?"
"Yes, sir," she repeated, again nodding, and still gazing down.
"Umm! How nice-and does the super-submissive role fit you, girl?"
"I-don't know what you mean, Sir." Then she remembered she'd been told to pour an ounce of Scotch over ice, and she hurried to the sideboard. Each room had one, with glasses and a bottle of Scotch, bourbon, and blended whiskey. One side of the sideboard was a diminutive refrigerator. It contained some ice, a pitcher of Martinis and several stemmed glasses, and two brands of beer.
While she was dropping two ice cubes into a sawed-off old-fashioned glass and picking up the unsealed bottle, he was saying, "I mean is this the role you like to play with a man?"
"I, uh, we-I am whatever you wish, Sir."
"Uh-huh-meaning no, because if you enjoyed being a servant-type, you'd have said yes. Good!"
She was careful to measure in one ounce of Scotch precisely. Although he hadn't checked off any sort of discipline, she didn't know what sort of needs he had and did not want to offend him. Besides, if she was going to learn more about this place, she had to keep this job and be sure she stayed on awhile.
She turned and handed him his drink. He took it wordlessly, regarded her with his pale eyes, and sipped-without taking those eyes off her.
"Fondle your breasts," he told her. "Through the blouse. That's cire. It feels good to the touch-it ought to feel good being pushed around over your nipples."
Feeling put upon and self-conscious, the submissive blonde stood there and began playing with her own tits. He watched, with a little smile tugging at his lips. Then he took off his jacket and dropped it carelessly over the back of a chair. It didn't matter, she saw; the jacket and pants were both double knit. He continued watching her. She trembled. Damn! She couldn't help it-her nipples were hardening up and tingles were running through her entire bosom. She also began to feel an itchy little tug, down in the depths of her vagina.
"Open the blouse and let's see those milk-wagons, girl."
With her teeth set in her lower lip, Lynn ran her fingers down the front of the blouse, unbuttoning. When it was completely open, she waited. She had resolved to do precisely what he said, without comment, and without embellishment.
But she had miscalculated, "I said open it and let's see your milkjugs!" he snapped. "What's the matter with you!"
What's the matter with you, she thought, hate your mommy?
But she said nothing while she tugged the blouse up out of her miniskirt and drew it aside to show him her rounded tits. She knew without looking that her nipples were up, pointing straight as scarlet arrows.
He gazed at them. He seemed to be studying them as if he were a dealer considering whether to buy a piece of art.
A piece of ass, Lynn corrected. That's what I am. Meat. Female meat. A goddam piece of ass!
"Now play with them," he bade her. He lifted his glass for another brief sip of his Scotch.
She stood there before him and fondled her breasts, manipulating the white, hard-looking ovals, running her fingers over skin soft as butter, pushing the succulent lumps around on her chest, making them tremble like moulded gelatin, closing the cleavage between them by pushing them together, then letting them jump apart like heaving mountains, jiggling and swaying and bobbing, running her fingers over balls of flesh that had the resilience of ripe fruit, pressing until the mounds of soft flesh bulged out around her fingers, then slipping her fingertips up over the tumescent and deeply pink buds of her nipples.
And all the while he stood there and watched, with a drink in his hand.
And it pissed her off-that it was exciting to her! Tremors of rising sensual excitement quivered all through her. She licked her lips. She thought about her prettily shorn pubis. She thought about what he had in his pants. Unconsciously, unaware that she was doing it, she sighed and hunched her shoulders to shove her breasts into her own hands.
"Yes," he said quietly, "that's nice, isn't it?" He set the glass down. "Hold them up, and out-for me."
She proffered her already excited breasts to him as he came near and bent his head.
She sucked in a swift breath at the touch of his mouth on her left nipple. Then he was sucking the nipples by turn, until they stood extended like cherries at the ends of her erect breasts. His tongue twanged the surging points as if they were strings of love.
"Uh-" she gasped, helplessly, trying to be unobtrusive about pushing her tits at his face. "Umm...."
He brought a different sort of sound from her, then, when his hand came up under her short skirt to fondle the hairless bulging purse of her vulva. His finger traced up and down, up and down the seam of her hairless pussy. His tongue ran around and around her nipple. She sighed, was assailed by heat, and trembled. She wished she weren't standing up. Now she was trying to be unobtrusive in her movement again-this time opening her legs little by little to give him greater access to her plump, fleshy mount and the soft outer flanges of her cunt.
She groaned aloud when he let one finger slither up into her, easily parting the exquisitely tight-pressed lips of her clefted mound.
Keeping it imbedded in her moist slash, he bent his head over the quivering turrets of her tits. His tongue continued stabbing, exciting her nipples with flickering licks. The delicious morsels of dilated flesh stood there, reared up to their full erected length.
She squirmed, gasping, rolling her eyes in rising sensual pleasure and helpless lust. His finger penetrated deeper and deeper every time he drove it forcefully into the vital tightness of her cunt. Becoming as submissive as she had previously pretended, caught in an utter hot fury of salacious need, she begged to be fucked.
Keeping his finger well up her slick slit, he raised his head from her breasts and gazed into her eyes. Then he watched her reaction while he slid his finger free of her. And he straightened.
"Undress me."
She had undressed rather more than one man, and Pete rather more than once. She knew how to go at the buttons of his shirt. With him facing her, it buttoned the right way for her fingers. Then she was working at his belt, feeling the softness behind it, although he possessed very little belly. She got the buckle open. Her fingers were trembling while she explored, solved the top catch of his fly, and drew the zipper down.
He had come prepared; he wore no shorts. His prick reared its proud, red-crowned head and bobbed out of his fly at her. The pants dropped and her forehead brushed his prick as she went down into a squat to draw them off his feet.
She was starting to get up when it came. His hand, on the top of her head.
"Kiss it. Lick it, take it in your mouth."
She swallowed. Here it was, down to the crunch. She would have to kneel before this strange man with the hairless chest and the hairy groin and upright dick, with her mouth offered in servile acceptance and adoration of his thick cock.
She took a deep breath, fearfully.
There was no stench. There was only a faint musky aroma of-sex. Of maleness. With a faint smell of soap, perhaps. She swallowed, took another breath, licked her lips, and kissed the head of his cock. Her soft lips pressed sweetly to the very tip and the slit there.
She blinked in surprise. How soft it was! How velvety and vulnerable it felt! She heard his little intake of breath, too. A slight gasp. She knew at once what an effect she had had on him with this one kiss. I'll bet-I'll bet I could blow his cool by blowing his cock! Well, she thought, I'll try!
She licked it. It tasted like-flesh. Hard flesh, and the fact that it was cock and that she was a sensual woman made that far from unpleasant. She began licking and kissing his tumid tool.
It became a sort of game. She let her tongue imitate a snake's, flicking and jabbing, pretending she was a snake teasing his cock, making wet, swishy sounds as she ran her tongue carelessly over the lush, red-tipped rod of silken flesh.
She heard the little moaning sounds he made, saw the tense tightening up of his belly, noted the involuntary throbbing jerks of rock-hard peter, full of virility, stiff and pulsing and obviously so happy with her licking caresses. She trembled, knowing a feeling not of submission, as she knelt there before him, but of power!
Why-this was fun! It was sexy! Pete must just love licking her soft pussy and watching her grow more and more vibrant with passion, just like this big pink cock, decorated with raised veins and knobby glans!
She glanced up at him. Ummm! His eyes were staring down at her, and they were definitely glazing. Shudders of voluptuary passion rippled-through his naked male body. Delightful!
Delightful! Beautiful! I did that! How lovely!
Very pleased with herself and feeling her belly squirming with sudden thrills, she left off her cock-licking. With her eyes fixed on the swollen crown, sleek and glistening with her saliva, she slid her hand up to the stem. Her fingers encircled the tubular hardness of his erected penis and, with deliberately titillating slowness-knowing he was watching and thrilled by that fact-she guided it to her mouth and its warm, wet hollow.
Her soft lips fastened themselves moistly around the blood-gorged helmet of his penis. He groaned aloud and stared down at the voluptuously lewd sight of his tumescent dick going into her face. It was a very pretty face, and radiant, now, with delight and passion and pleasure.
Taking the big shaft well into her mouth and feeling her face expand for him, she licked its underside, pressing her caressing tongue against a thick, long, bulging tube there, like a seam running up the lower surface of his cock.
He was gasping, now, for each breath. She licked it. She liked that feeling of power. She sought more of it.
She began moving her head up and down the long thick dick and letting it crowd deeply in and out of the deep hollow of her mouth. It gagged her a little. All right! She eased up. He was trembling like an autumn leaf in a high wind. It strained her jaws; so what, he was straining too! And she, she was doing it! Her mouth, her tongue, her submissive kneeling there and giving him head-those were turning him on! She was turning him on. It was a wonderful feeling. She shivered sensuously, feeling the strength, the male power of that smooth, muscular prick beating within the warm little hollow of her mouth.
Suddenly, warming more and more to it, she was sucking harder, trying to swallow its swollen tip and clutching his balls just a little too firmly in her sweaty palm and working fingers. She squeezed; he groaned; he reached down to grasp her blonde hair.
"Uh-aow!" she cried out, when he tugged her head back off the huge rammer of his mouth-excited cock.
Then he thrust her backward. She lost her balance and fell, part way onto her side. With her knees bent as she'd been kneeling, that hurt. She straightened them out quickly. She was on her back, her legs open and her miniskirt rucked up high. She looked up at him, a sweet, submissive, sprawled blonde who'd just sucked his cock.
He was coming down onto her, and she cried out when that saliva-slick chunk of swollen male meat came sweeping easily up inside her.
She accepted it gratefully and with delight. She wanted it! She had prepared it, prepared him-she'd gladly fuck him, if he wished!
The big round knob stirred up seething liquid within the simmering vault of her cunt. The long deep channel flowered wide before his carnal onslaught, in complete loving acceptance of driving, fucking, ramming cock. He was balling her hard and fast, grunting and ramming as if there were no tomorrow. He hammered his thick rod of flesh into her, gliding merrily through the hotly pulsing tunnel of her steaming loins, ramming hard and deep in a delirium of pleasure.
She loved it. She wanted it. She was as excited as she'd ever been in her life. She could only moan and gasp beneath him. Her hips jerked around uncontrollably in the turbulent grip of her sensations.
The sensations were the marvelous old ones of fucking, flesh on flesh, and hard hot flesh in fleshy slash-but the contributing factor this time was new. She had grooved on sucking cock, and she knew it. It was a tremendous source of both excitement and confusion to her, but she'd worry about the confusion later! Right now she just wanted to ball!
She looked up at him with eyes that were molten pools of fiery passion all the while he penetrated the shallow cleft between her hairlessly delicate pink labia with his ramming cock. Its lustful, driving hardness filled and battered her. She delighted in the deep delving of his swollen flesh, the grinding of his pelvis against the little point of flesh that poked eagerly forth from the tip of her fleshy lower lips. Those wet warm folds caressed his driving tool as he whipped it powerfully out and in.
He was driving at her with all the strength of his body, thrusting his heavy root home into the wet warmth of her, time and time again. Her very wet pussy tried hard to swallow it up and digest its thick meat.
Then she moaned, and this time in sadness. He was coming. She could feel it in the sudden tensing of his body, the rippling shivers that ran through him, the uncontrolled rocking jerks of his hips. She lay there blinking back tears while quick, thick seminal jets squirted forth like milk from a cow's teat-to be sucked up and swallowed by her thirsty pussy.
He lay there atop her only a few moments once he'd blown his balls. Then he pushed back from her. His cock emerged from her sodden gulch with an obscene sucking noise. He lurched to his feet, got quickly into his clothes, and left the room without a word.
She was left lying asprawl on the floor, still wearing her opened blouse, her hose, and with her little skirt hiked pathetically up on her belly. Her childishly smooth-shorn vulva was an angry red bulge between her parted thighs. Semen oozed out of the crack of her still-pulsing pussy.
"Too fast," she muttered tearfully as she dragged herself up and stumbled to the tiny bathroom each room was provided with. "Too fucking fast, Jim-boy! Damn, damn! And after I got all wound up with that cock-sucking, too!"
She placed her hand in the soft indentation between the tops of her labia as she douched, found the go-button there. But she didn't even feel like bringing herself off. Poor man, she thought. Poor me!
CHAPTER FIVE
Lynn was sitting there naked, waiting, thinking-hard-when Violet Fletcher came into the room.
"Well?"
Lynn looked at her. "Well, what?"
"Well, how'd you do?"
"I did fine. I was properly submissive and I gave him head like a champ. He came about as fast as a sixteen-year-old."
"Sure. When I was sixteen. Also when I was fifteen and, come to think, fourteen."
Violet laughed, then frowned. "You didn't let him know, did you? That he'd come too fast?"
"I-don't think so. I mean, I didn't say anything. He just got up and got dressed and took off. Not a word."
"Uh-huh, that's Jim. Steady, predictable client. Well, believe it or not, you stay right here-and put on these."
Lynn stared at the clothing the woman drew out of an opaque laundry bag. A thick white sweater with a big blue V on the front, in felt. A full skirt, pleated; the skirt was royal blue and the insets between the pleats were white. White socks. Little white boots. With blue tassels.
"You're kidding."
"Nope." Violet Fletcher handed her a card, and Lynn saw that it was the one she wasn't usually given, the information off the second sheet the men filled out. The A-l seemed to jump up at her.
"A-l-that's a teen-ager!"
"Right," Fletcher smiled.
"But-ME?"
Smiling, Fletcher nodded. "Come on, Miss Cheerleader, let's get you ready for this cat. He's got a lot of money. I mean a lot. And a very pretty daughter. Fifteen. A-cheerleader."
"Good," Lynn said, "grief!"
Fletcher wiped off every trace of Lynn's makeup, then touched her cheeks with rouge and buffed them until they shone. The blonde hair was drawn back and tied into a ponytail with a royal blue ribbon, which Fletcher tied in a large bow.
"What about underwear?" Lynn asked, looking at herself in the mirror. She had to be rather pleased-she did look younger, at that. It was nice to be twenty-three and look six or seven years younger! She hoped she still could when she was thirty!
"It'll just get in his way," Fletcher said. "Come on, get your clothes on. You're practicing your cheers, got it? There you go, uh-huh-and not the sweater-right, let me fluff your hair again-damn! You lucky little bitch-you look sixteen."
Lynn stuck her thumb in her mouth.
Fletcher didn't laugh; instead, she frowned. "Come on now, don't get silly. Sixteen-year-old girls are sexy, think they're even sexier, and ball. Did you suck your thumb when you were sixteen?"
"Nope. My pencil."
Fletcher laughed. "OK, OK. Your name's Maryjane."
"What else?" Lynn giggled, whirling and watching the pleated, two-colored skirt swirl prettily out around her. "Oh, what do I call him?"
"Guess."
Lynn stared at her. "Oh, no! Not-not DADDY!"
Fletcher broke up. "No, no, no-he wants to be called Uncle Roger."
"Oh, wow-w-w. Listen, how-how old is this nut?"
"You're going to be pleasantly surprised. His name really is Roger. Just remember to call him Uncle. And go along."
Lynn sighed, looking down at herself. Big thick itchy sweater; cheerleaders must be nuts! "I'll go along, Miz Fletcher," she said, in a small voice.
Laughing, Fletcher departed. Then she stuck her head back in. "Remember-you're practicing your cheers."
"Uh-huh. Rickety Rackety rass, get 'em in the ass!"
"Not that one, Maryjane!" And Fletcher was gone.
Lynn waited for her next client, wondering how she was going to be pleasantly surprised. The guy was a nut who needed a shrink!
She thought about that, and was still thinking about it when the too-slim girl entered, laid the card on her, and vamoosed. Lynn looked at the card. A, naturally enough, B-hm, suckin' again!-and L, and ... Q.
Omigosh! Q's one of the letters under "discipline"! And-I don't remember which! Let's see, O means illusion of inexperience, and so the first one under "discipline" is P. That's "none." Hmm. Q must be "mild discipline," whatever that is. I wonder if....
And then she knew. She was a teeny cheerleader. He was an older man, apparently hung up on his own daughter, a teeny cheerleader! He-he's going to spank me, sure as hell!
"Jesus H. Christ," Lynn Berkley muttered, looking down at the way the top bars of the big royal blue V on her white sweater capped her un-bra'd breasts. And feeling the squirm of her buttocks, very bare under the full skirt.
And then she heard a little tap at the door, and she jumped up off the couch and started bouncing around.
"Biff Bam Bah," she chanted, squatting, jumping, spinning, pretending not to notice the door's opening. "Rah, Rah-RAH!" On the last word, she did a big crouch-jump and a spin, and then, panting, pretended to notice for the first time that she'd been interrupted.
She didn't have to fake the way her eyes stared and her mouth dropped open. "Uncle Roger," while not any taller than Jim, was a very handsome and nicely built man, with a Cary Grant dimple in his chin and lots of black hair, grayed at the temples, and a particularly neatly trimmed black mustache that followed the line of his upper lip and ended when it did. She wondered if he brought his clothes with him or kept them here at the Palace of Venus....
He wore a very long, shining robe of quilted maroon satin. With a white scarf around his neck. All he needed was a cigarette in a holder and he'd look like Hollywood's idea of a Hollywood director or actor.
"U-Uncle Roger! Gosh-I didn't hear you!"
"I knocked, Maryjane."
"Gee, I'm sorry! I was practicing my cheers...."
"You're not supposed to do that in the house," he said quietly, as if he were reminding her of something she was supposed to know already.
"Uh-well-" She looked down, wagging her shoulders. "Gee, the big game's tonight, and I have to practice...."
"Maryjane."
"Sir?"
"Look at me."
She looked at him. It was easy. He looked maybe forty, maybe older, and he looked wealthy and handsome without appearing slimy or like a roue. She licked her lips, putting her hands behind her, playing a petulantly contriteingenue.
"It isn't just that you're practicing in the house, Maryjane," he said, coming across the room toward her. She saw that he apparently wasn't wearing anything under the robe. The better to get at you and into you, my dear, she thought, and she had to hold back a sudden desire to break up. She managed. He was quite close now, and she smelled English Leather. He gazed sternly at her, not looking mean (or trying to, like Jim), but stern. Like her uncle. Disappointed, rather than angry.
"You were spinning when I came in, Maryjane. And you are not wearing your panties again!"
"Ulp." She bit her lip. Boy, was I set up for this! Told me no underwear, it'd just get in the way. Told me to be practicing my cheers. Wow, this is a regular high school play!
"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Roger," she piped, looking down. He wore black felt slippers with red stitching.
He sighed. "I know you are, dear. But you're always sorry. It just isn't enough, Maryjane. This has happened too many times. We can-NOT have you showing your pretty little ass and pussy to everybody in two counties, dear."
That shook her. Pretty tough words for an uncle to be laying on his teeny-niece! Part of the game, obviously. But she had to hold back a smile when the thought hit her-and surprised her. OK, friend Roger, you handsome dude, let's get the game over with and get down to some serious fuckin'! This little chicky is ready for your prong, Uncle!
His robe swished as he moved around her. "Maryjane."
She turned. He was sitting on the couch. She looked sadly at him. And she was right; her Uncle Roger patted his knees! "All right, Maryjane. Come over here and assume the position. You know as well as I do that you have to be spanked."
Boy, I sure hope you don't spank hard, handsome, she thought-as she went over to him.
She stepped up. beside his right thigh, facing it. She glanced down at him. He gazed back. She sighed. Bit her lip. And, slowly, leaned forward and placed herself across his knees.
Immediately he began rubbing her twitching fanny, through the skirt. She smiled, staring at the rug. That felt good! She could take all of that he gave her-so long as she got herself some cock, too.
Then that hand slid away, and the other one surprised her; it came sweeping down to bounce its palm off her upturned rump. Whump!
"Uh!" Good old skirt; the open-palm blow hadn't hurt much! Just a little warming. She wiggled her upturned butt. She could take more of that. It had a nice warming effect.
His hand rose and fell several more times, dusting the back of her skirt and imparting more warmth to the tensing hemispheres of firm flesh that poked it out and up in back. It didn't really hurt, but she wriggled and heaved more rapidly under the repeated slaps and made gulping noises in a high voice. He slapped her upturned tail several more times, and she heard his rather hoarse breathing. He was really enjoying this, she knew. No wonder!
Here she was, a cute teener, lying in the age-old position of submission to his flailing hand, across his knees! And she knew very well that she had a nice ass. Eminently spank-able, come to think about it, although this was the first time that thought had occurred to her. She moaned softly, her eyes closed. She wanted to move a little. Her left breast sort of hung over the edge of his left thigh, but the right was caught on it, crushed onto his leg by her own weight. It felt very full and swollen and tingly.
So did her bottom.
"Does that hurt, Maryjane?"
"N-not-not very much, Uncle Roger."
She heard his exaggerated sigh. "I was afraid of that. Well, there's only one thing for it, then. It's going to have to be on your bare butt, Maryjane. Maybe if I teach you that a bare bottom is made to be spanked, you'll decide to start wearing some panties around here."
"Oh, I will, I will, Uncle Roger, please don't-uh!" She broke off, feeling him drag her full skirt easily up to bare her upthrusting buttocks. Suddenly a little thrill of fear tingled through her. It was-exciting.
Then he brought his hand swooping down to smack onto the very top of the mountain, giving her tensing left cheek a slap that made it jump and smart. "Aow!"
"You felt that, Maryjane?"
"Yes, SIR!"
"Be still. There will be ten more-no, twenty, it's only my hand."
"Oh-oh, Uncle ROGER! Twe-TWEN-ty?"
"Twenty," he said firmly, and landed a resounding slap across the far mount of her right buttock. She grooved and jerked. All of a sudden she was prickly and wet with perspiration. He gave her another hard swat that landed across the center crack, onto both tense and quivering cheeks. She gulped, squirming and juddering. Warmth now flowed through the soft quivering flesh of her helplessly upturned bottom.
In rapid succession, he heightened that warmth by smacking hard onto the quivering, contracting summit of each fleshy ball. Each swat made them bound provocatively, then huddle snugly against each other. The cheeks of that adorably curved ass quivered with a voluptuous tensing that drew at his eyes-and magnetized his open hand. It rushed down again, but this time he curved and cupped it. That slap made a loud noise, which frightened her as much as it hurt. The flesh of her ass jiggled, rippling. Now she was squirming uncontrollably, very hot in the rump and feeling stinging, smarting pain there and-a strong prickling in the crotch.
She was trying to crawl off his legs. He dropped his left hand onto her back, trapping her, pressing her down, and gave her two more resounding swats. They burned. With each swat her fleshy, sexy cheeks jumped, wobbled wildly, and then went drum tight, clutching each other in fearful anticipation of the next smacking blow of his big, splay-fingered hand.
It was all she could do to keep count. She wondered if the first one was part of the twenty. She hoped so. That made th-uh!-thirteen!
She squirmed and whimpered now, and tears misted her eyes as the stinging blows landed on her tender young butt, all white and naked-and reddening steadily. Another hard slap. Another, cupping the base of her right cheek, just above the taut-fleshed thigh. She was shaken with sobs, knowing that his reddening fingerprints were leaving a latticework pattern over the perfection of the shiny, doubtless swollen, hemispheres.
She moaned and sighed and wiggled. Tears broke forth and dampened her cheeks. But her pussy was crying, too. She knew it was oozing. It was all squirmy inside, and itching, itching to get something in it to suck on. Her tits felt tight and swollen and hard as rocks.
Something else had become hard as a rock, too. She could feel it, tenting his maroon satin robe and throbbing away at her side, where the sweater had pulled up a little to bare her skin. He was really enjoying this slapping of her butt's tempting double curve, watching the snowy mounds trembling and relaxing spasmodically, gazing down at the pretty cheeks dancing in cadence with his blows-because he was wearing one hell of a hard-on, and she could feel it.
With the hot blood coursing through his veins in a torrent, he landed another slap across the vulnerably upturned backside of the shapely blonde lying so beautifully across his thighs. The quivering mounds were not ivory now, but a deep pink that palpitated and seemed to glow. He could feel their warmth when he landed spanking slap number eighteen.
Nineteen, the girl thought, whimpering amid shudders and gasps. The well-spanked cheeks of her poor tail were squirming and burning hot. She thought they must be about the color of his robe by now, damn the handsome, fat-cocked, dominating devil-fat-cocked-fat-cocked....
She had lost count, and thus she thought the nineteenth flailing smack directly onto the reddened right cheek of her tightened right buttock was the twentieth. She sighed and went limp. Her rearing, deeply pink cheeks at last relaxed and eased apart to display the sexy slice running down between them.
Then the twentieth smack flicked the surprised girl across the fanny, and she squealed and started violently in pain and shock.
"Ow-ow-ow, that was too many...."
"No, no, I counted carefully," he told her, rubbing and rubbing her swollen, rounded buttocks. She hung over his legs limply, groaning, constant tremors and twinges running all through her. There seemed to be a direct channel between her upturned rump and her inner pussy, and each painful twinge rushed along it and into her cunt-except that they lost their power by the time they got there, and entered her cunt as little jolts of tickling pleasure....
"Now, dear girl," he said, rubbing and rubbing her trembly ass, "tell me you'll never forget to wear your pretty little panties again!"
"Uh-oh, oh-hh, Uncle Roger-that feels so nice-no, no, I promise, I won't forget again."
She wasn't quite certain why she was so turned on, but she did know that a. source of relief was near at hand. She had to brace her-helf with one hand against the floor while she twisted on his thighs. Then she put back her other hand, found a fine handful of fiercely swollen cock, and began stroking it lovingly. After a little grunt of surprise and pleasure, her stern Uncle Roger resumed stroking the firm, resiliently rubbery flesh of her lissome ass.
She only sighed when his hand sort of slid down through the crack and a thick finger eased between the soft and delicate little flanges her hair-bare crotch.
"Ummmm-mm, Uncle Roger!" she sighed.
"Wh-why, Maryjane, dear-you're all wet here! This sweet little slit has gone just all weepy and wet."
"Uh-oh, I know, Un-Uncle Roger-that feels so nice-but-you don't like me to toss myself off, I know-I mean fondle my, uh, slit...."
"No, no, that's a very naughty girl," he said, fondling her slit.
"Well, then, would you please-just-save me from doing that...? Just-um, ah, unnnh-just keep that up, please, darling Uncle Roger...."
"You're not mad at your loving uncle for spanking you then, dear?"
She gave his crank a hearty pull. "Oh, NO, Uncle Roger! No, it hurt-but it feels fine now, all warm and nice and tingly-uh! Yes, and inside there, too!"
"Well, I suppose we'd better just save each other from the evils of masturbation," he said quietly, with his finger imbedded between the pliant pink lips of her cunt. "I'm all excited, too."
"Boy, you sure ARE!" she enthused, tugging at his prick and moving her loosely fisted hand up and down its swollen length.
"And now it's time for you to use your sweet mouth on it, dear, while I continue doing-this."
"UNGH!" She jerked violently when he added a second finger to the first up her flowing quim. Her hips were rotating helplessly, madly and maddeningly, in a frenzied and primitive need. Fucking herself on his fingers, sliding her finger-vandalized pussy up and down, up and down the probing twin pressures.
With his help, she scrambled around to kneel beside him on the couch. She was facing him, and she looked with some surprise at his penis. It was a nice one indeed, sticking out of his parted robe, all tall and thick and vibrant with passion. His prick rammed out and up and then back, curving slightly like a reddened horn with a plum-shaped head that was almost purple in congested excitement.
She lowered her face to it, leaning one shoulder against his chest, licking her lips to moisten them for that moist-headed hunk of masculinity. At the same time, he ran his hand along her flank and in under her thigh. Again he found the taut, fleshy, and supple mons, and again he tickled a finger easily into the moist slit ringed with putty-like flesh, extremely soft and silken.
"You," he said quietly and fondly, "are a prize, young woman!"
"Thank you, Uncle Roger," she said, adhering to her role and wagging her hips. Damn, but she was turned on! Damn, but that finger felt good up in her cunt, sliding around over the hot wet walls of her vagina!
Bracing herself as best she could in their strange positions, she licked down the shaft of his penis and then back up, slowly, softly, wetly. Her tongue began to swish around and around over his sexual flesh, adding more and more glistening saliva to the lovely rounded smoothness of its crown. Again and again her tongue played over the satiny bulb and down the warm shaft. All the while her thighs were tensing and her still-warm butt was wagging, with his fingers coasting around well up inside her vaginal tunnel. Now and again she would slip her lips over the heart-shaped swelling of his cocktip, concentrating on filling his belly with need for her. Hers wanted him up inside it.
His pulsing tool grew stronger and stronger beneath the steady lapping of her tongue and the sweet embrace of her distended pink lips-another set of which sweetly embraced two of his fingers.
Then she opened wide.
She loved it! Where had she been, all this time, wasting her mouth when she could have been using it on male meat?
"Umm," she cooed, "it's so pretty I think I could just eat it up!"
She felt him jerk, and her eyes twinkled when his prick gave a strong twitch that nearly tore its thick base out of her grip. His fingers slithered up into her forcefully and circled around and around.
"Ohhhh, god, M-Maryja-a-ane ... ," he groaned, intensely aroused by her, word and deed.
She smiled happily. "I think I will," she announced, and craned her neck to ram her mouth over the end of his prick.
Soft pink lips encased the rounded, livid head of his sex and clamped tightly, suddenly, seemingly trying to milk him of his semen all at once. He shivered and his agitated fingers hurt her a little. She shuddered too; she could feel the pounding of his blood in his cock as her soft lips closed over it as much as they were able. She sucked.
Her hand slid up his hip and she sucked cock. Her cheeks sank in and hollowed. She sucked fiercely away at the hard shaft of flesh that pressed her mouth so wide and filled her face. His balls tightened up with the intensity of the sensation. His fingers reported a sudden increased wetness inside her; her cunt was responding to the pleasureful sensations she felt in her finger-filled hollow. She jerked, shaking the dangling teardrops of her tits so that they batted around inside the thick sweater.
She wished she had the damned thing off. But she didn't want to take time out to get it off. She didn't want him to stop what he was doing. And-she didn't want to stop what she was doing.
I'm sucking cock, she told herself. I'm a cock-sucker! Tonight, for the very first time-and already this is my second sucked cock!
She ate his meat with wet suctioning sounds that sent blissful waves surging through the seated man's belly. She leaned in and in to him, until her curvaceous, buoyant tits were pressed against the firmness of his masculine thighs. She knew he could feel their pressure, even through the damned thick sweater.
His super-sensitive flesh responded eagerly to the head sliding up and down its swollen length in a slow cadence. She drew at it ardently, engulfing him and sucking away as if she meant to swallow his cock. He moved his hips, only a little, making his thick penis slip wetly about inside her face with strong male energy and fervor.
His voice was full of trembles. "M-Mary-jane-I th-think it's-time now for-uh, oh, dear god!" He shivered violently. "-for me to slip my cock in where my fingers are...."
"Oh, yes!" she said with heart-felt enthusiasm. "Let me!"
"Wh-what?"
Smiling delightedly, she started moving swiftly around. She jerked and her eyes rolled when his fingers plopped out of her. Then she was getting quickly astride him, planting her feet on the floor and grinning at him while her hands grasped his arms and tugged him forward on the couch. He came along willingly. His hugely swollen hard-on bobbed wildly before him and he saw her eyes drop to it, saw her little pink tongue slither out to moisten her lips when she gazed at its exciting, almost frightening length and girth.
Then she moved swiftly forward. Reaching out with one hand to scoop up that handsome morsel of man, she tucked it into herself. Her eyes rolled up and she shivered. A long ecstatic sigh escaped her-and then she pushed strongly down. His big bone utterly vanished up inside her.
His eyes blazed. The robe fell away on both sides, exposing very hairy thighs, and he groaned when he felt the descent of her pretty asscheeks onto them.
His eyes dropped, saw that his thick maleness filled her up. It stretched out her hairless cleft until it was a ring of pale pink flesh, half the blood driven out of it by its dilation around him. He could actually feel it tugging as she sat there and concentrated. The tight elastic labial ring was obviously bent not only on swallowing the rigid shaft spearing up between them, but on milking it as well.
Raising his eyes, he found hers on a slightly higher level. She smiled down at him. Her face was full of delight, passion. He was able to discern the up and down rushing of her bouncing breast globes inside the bulky white sweater. His hands moved out, hoisted the sweater to bare the pretty balls of firm tit-flesh, and he grasped them both. She sighed. He squeezed. With another sigh, she stretched her own breasts, by rising slowly, grinning, holding his prick within her.
Then she sat down again.
It slurped up into her. With her feet braced against the floor as she straddled his thighs, she jacked herself up once more. She began moving faster and faster, up and down, moaning with desire and coming down hard on his thighs. Her swollen rear mounds slapped against him with jarring force.
His hands, meanwhile, were tugging and squeezing and pushing and pulling her bobbing jugs as if they were toys, placed there on her chest solely for his amusement and delectation. They swelled under the fondling and squeezing, swelled up whitely, ridged around his pressing fingers, and she gasped-and smiled happily.
"Oh, you beauty!" he exclaimed, when she suddenly began twisting on his upspearing prong with experienced rocking of her hips and firm downward thrusts. His hands continued trying to mold her bobbing, jiggling chest-melons into exotic new shapes-shapes they refused to hold, always rippling smoothly back into rakishly tilted, round-sided cones that jutted their pretty pointed tips at him.
Thrills of increasing intensity threatened to overload his bodily circuits. Writhing wildly on the hard, hot thing shoving way up her itching pussy, she slid one hand in to get at her own throbbing little penis-imitation. She began rubbing. And continued her up and down plunging. He jerked and groaned aloud. Blood pounded through him in hot rivers.
Then he groaned and shivered, and now it was semen, seemingly boiling hot and terribly thick, that pounded through the tubeway of his cock and entered her vertical slit in hot rivers.
Her eyes went wide as his dilated and she felt him coming, coming inside her. She began agitating her clitoris with even more violence, hurting herself a little, desperately trying to get there before he, too, got up and went on his way, like the last one. Dammit, dammit, where was the staying power of these damned guys? Was Pete some sort of superman? Maybe she'd better try to rope and hog-tie that dude, get a ring on her finger attached to one in his nose, fast, before he got away from her and she was condemned to men who were marvelously sexy and supremely appreciative-but too damned quick to blow up inside her!
She didn't make it; he interrupted her to pull her against his chest and give her a warm, appreciative kiss.
A few minutes later, he was on his way out the door when she called after him, smiling. "Uncle Roger!"
He looked pleasantly back at his little girl. "Yes, darling?"
"I-I've got a confession to make, Uncle Roger."
He paused. His brows were lifted in a silent question.
"I...." She looked down at her feet. "I left my panties off on purpose. And I did hear you knock, Uncle Roger."
After a moment of silence, he gasped, "Oh, you darling!" and hurried back to her. He pressed something crisp and crinkly into her hand as he kissed her, and then "Uncle Roger" fairly fled the room.
She lifted her hand, opened her fingers, and stared at the hundred dollar bill.
I really made him happy, she thought in the bathroom a few minutes later. How nice-to be able to do well by doing good!
CHAPTER SIX
Wearing absolutely nothing but a smile, Lynn Berkley waited for her man in a lacy bedroom setting.
He came in, wearing a smile, too, along with a beer belly and a stubbly face. He drank a can of beer, sucked her tits like a hungry child, played briefly with her pussy, turned her up and over, and balled her fast and hard with a hurtful finger up her asshole.
Then he shot off, grunted, rolled over, and went to sleep.
Tears rolled down her face while she douched his spermy seed out of herself. Jesus Christ, what slobs some men were! She'd been a piece of meat this time, nothing more. Orgasm? Hell, he probably didn't even know women had such things! Clitoris? Lord, the sunuvabitch wouldn't know a clit from a nit.
He was snoring when she yanked open the door and went to get herself a drink. Anywhere. Just so it was away from him!
Pete Ryan finished his drink and his oysters, leaned back, and pursed his lips as he again regarded the Palace of Venus' Bill of Fare.
Hmm, a little something different....
"God, she's doing fine," Violet Fletcher told her boss. "Jim didn't put her down-which for him is high praise-and Roger's CRAZY about her! She's a doll, she digs cock, and she's got a helluva talent as an actress!" She grinned. "And right now she's about to get a whole new and different thrill, let me tell you!"
Wearing a sexy beige negligee over crotchless briefs and a sleep-bra that closed between her breasts, Lynn awaited her next client in a bedroom setting. She didn't know how many other "Venuses" there were in this place, but she was sure getting a workout! Initiation, she supposed, to see if the new kid could take it. She checked the card again.
B and C were checked, along with O, and that was it!
Her next assignment wanted to lick and suck her, wanted her to lick and suck him, and wanted her to give the illusion of inexperience! Another nut! Not only that, but his name was Jackie. Not Jack. No, no. Jackie!
She looked up at the knock on the door. She'd been told that she was to pretend to be interrupted. She was in bed, and she was supposed to be fingering herself. Swiftly she pressed the thumb and forefinger of her left hand to her right nipple and the middle finger of her right hand to her clit. And she ignored the knock. It was repeated. She ignored it, as per instructions. It was easy. Her lust-button was warming up, loving the attention she gave it.
The door opened. Lynn looked up with a gasp.
Then she gasped again. The second one was real.
Jackie was about 5'5" tall and weighed maybe 130, most of it chest, although there was a bit of belly bulge. Jackie's face was quite plain-with an unfortunate nose that made it worse than plain. Jackie's hair was red, and shoulder length. Jackie wore a white satin shirt and black hip-huggers. Jackie's eyes were blue and there were freckles strewn randomly across the bridge of that unfortunate nose. Jackie was about thirty-f-hm. Maybe more like forty. OK, Jackie was about forty. And smiling.
Jackie also had a pair of very large strutting tits and was very definitely female.
My lord in heaven, Lynn thought, why the shit didn't one of these motherfuckers tell me?
"Hi, dar-ohoh! No wonder you didn't answer my knocks," Jackie said. She shook her head and pursed her lips. "Tsk tsk-playing with yourself! What a waste of such a beautiful body, darling!"
"Well, uh-I, ah, didn't-expect-I didn't hear...."
Jackie hurried over to the bed. "There, dear, don't be embarrassed! I do it too, you know. Who doesn't, for heaven's sake?" She smiled at Lynn, smiled at her hand, still down there completely obliterating her shaved cunt-bulge.
Oral, Lynn was thinking. Oral-and MUTUAL! I gotta lick this lesbian's cunt!
She remembered, suddenly, Violet Fletcher. Fletcher had been testing her even then-to see if Lynn showed disgust at being wooed and fondled by another woman. And Lynn certainly hadn't. As a matter-of-fact, she had found herself wishing the other woman were as naked as she, so she could get at her body to make the pleasure reciprocal! And she remembered very well that she'd done some tit-grabbing and some pussy-pushing, herself.
Well, she thought, with an inward sigh, here's my chance to find out what it's like-and to run a further test on my inhibitions!
"Hi, Jackie," she said, recapturing her cool. "Sorry you caught me, but since you did-I guess I gotta grin and admit it, huh?"
Jackie stroked her hand. "I'm certainly not about to TELL anyone, dear. But did you forget I was coming over to spend the night?"
Lynn blinked, then bit her lip. "Be damned! I hate to admit it-but, yeah, Jackie, I clean forgot you were coming over to-spend-the-night."
Jackie sighed and shook her head. "Got all turned on with something and all you could think about was yourself, hmmm?"
Lynn sighed, too. "Yeah, that's about it."
Jackie looked around. "Hm, only one bed, eh? Invited me over to sleep in the same bed with you, eh? And with your George out on the road, too, poor baby. How can I take his place?"
"Uh-oh, George. Yes. Sales trip. Um-hmm. Well, you know men, Jackie. He's probably shacked up with some waitress or something."
Jackie put her head on one side and looked sad. "Oh-poor baby! Do you really think that about your husband?"
"Well...." Lynn looked down.
Suddenly Jackie sat down on the side of the bed. She put a hand on Lynn's upper arm. "Boy, you're good. You're new here, right?"
Lynn looked at her, met those clear blue eyes. "Yeah."
Jackie gave her head a shake. "Wow. And are you ever good. Well, let's can it. You really WERE shocked when I came in, weren't you?"
Lynn nodded.
"Well. You've-never made it with another woman?"
Lynn shook her head. "Scared? Put off?" Lynn nodded. "Revolted?"
Lynn thought about it. Then she shook her head.
Jackie exhaled a long sigh, which did wild things to her wild tits. They were about the largest Lynn had ever seen. The poor woman must have all sorts of back troubles.
"May I show you something?"
Lynn's mouth quirked into a smile, dimpling both cheeks. "Show me something? Sure, Jackie."
Jackie nodded, stood up, and stripped.
Lynn sat up in bed and stared.
The other woman, in the first place, possessed a magnificent pair of tits. They were indeed huge, filling up all the space between her collar bones and her clavicle. Big jiggly melons shaped like footballs. Way too big to be self-supporting. And yet the woman wore no bra, and Lynn hadn't known it! Jackie's big jugs had a slight droop, sure but somehow that made them all the more erotic and erotically exciting. They swung before her like two steep hills that swooped down and down, white and freckled here and there, long, snowy ski-slopes that zoomed out to puckered, very pale pink tips. Their masses shadowed her convexly rounded belly, darkened the deep depression of her navel, very nearly cast their shadow as far down as her pubis.
Her pubis. It was completely devoid of hair, looking quite pink and very vulnerable and-sexy. Obscene-sexy, like a skin-flick as opposed to an X movie. All pink and swollen, the lips pressed together and bulging outward in a pink skin-purse, finely bisected by a line that could have been cut there by a razor, it was so thin and nearly invisible.
Good god, Lynn thought, she's magnificent. And her cunt-it's beautiful!
"Good god," she said aloud," is THAT how I look?"
Jackie shrugged and her breasts did calisthenics. "How would I know, luv-your hand's been on your quim since before I came in!"
Lynn gazed at the other woman, thinking. A weird set of thoughts and feelings swept through her mind.
What was it like to trail one's fingers over female flesh, to fondle the silky-soft bulge of a female mount, the Mount of Venus-in the Palace of Venus? What was it like to dip a finger or two into the slitted slice of a woman's sex and feel its squirmy inner convolutions of slick tissues, to make them slicker by exciting her and bringing down her drizzle of inner juices? What-what did a woman-taste like?
And what would it be like to sort of mess around with jugs as big and fat and swollen-looking and tight-skinned as Jackie's? To suck them, lick their tips, play at nursing at a fat titty, like a baby fortunate enough to have a mother rather than a bottle-warmer.
Slowly, her legs moved farther and farther apart. Slowly, her hand drifted away from her crotch. She watched Jackie's eyes drop along her body and then zero in on her vulva, so nicely displayed within the triangular opening of the crotchless panties she wore. And so nicely displayed, too, because-there was no hair, not one strand of pubic fur, to disguise or conceal her sexy pussy.
Jackie stared at it. Below her almost flat belly, between the tops of her slim, strong-looking thighs, the younger woman's cunt was truly a thing of beauty. She had to admire the conch-shell shape of that outjutting mound, split by a deeply pink slice whose lips were full and pink and so sexily parting to display their moist interior surfaces and just a glimpse of the scalloped pair of lips inside. "Oh, Lynn-you're beautiful!" Lynn lay there gazing at the larger woman. Then, suddenly, she jerked up into a sitting position, opened the beige negligee, and un-snapped the front catch of the soft little sleep-bra. The melting curves of her breasts came tumbling free. They jiggled saucily, as if deliberately trying to attract Jackie's attention. They succeeded.
Lynn's gesture was unmistakable and made her decision obvious. With her own overblown jugs jumping and swinging wildly, Jackie hurried to the bed. For a moment she hesitated, then she plumped her plump butt onto the bed and slid her arms around the blonde with the shorn pubis.
Lynn felt the big thrusting bulges of Jackie's pendant tits cramming into her, forcing her own tits, proud bulges that had suddenly become inadequate and minuscule, to strain outward around the bigger, heavier, thicker masses of tit-flesh bursting from the other woman's chest.
Then soft gentle lips were pressing against hers, opening. A just-as-soft tongue was wiggling its way into her mouth. Sensually stroking hands were running all over her back. Again and again Jackie dipped and wiggled her tongue into the girl's mouth, until Lynn's body was squirming and her eyes filmed over with pleasure edging toward passion. Jackie licked out the inside of the blonde's mouth with a tongue flickering like fire.
Lynn greeted the invading tongue with her own. Her hands were greedy for the feel of the redhead's corpulent knockers. She went after them, savoring the silky, tight-stretched softness of their skin with her fingertips, sliding her hands all over the lavish treasures of those breasts, full and heavy but in no way flabby. Jackie began moving her shoulders to make her tits move in the other woman's hands, while she sighed into Lynn's mouth.
"You have the most fantastic breasts, Jackie!"
Jackie sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I've wished I didn't, often enough. Men take one look and know I must be some kind of sex nut. They think a woman with big tits is a regular hellion in bed, a creature driven by some sort of magic erotic glands buried in her boobs." She sighed. "T'ain't so, of course. Certainly I love having them played with. I play with 'em myself. But-it's a woman's caresses I want, and a woman's mouth."
"Do-do you hate men, Jackie?"
"Of course not. That's dumb, and forget the shit you've heard; most daughters of Bilitis do NOT hate men. They just prefer women. Lord, most men prefer women-and they don't hate other men! And certainly you find plenty of male homosexuals enjoying the company of women!"
"Daughters of Bilitis?"
"Um. Daughters of Bilitis-devotees of Sappho-Sapphists-lesbians."
Lynn felt an involuntary shiver go through her. She hoped Jackie didn't notice. OK, so it was a loaded word. Lesbian. Lesbian. But-for one thing, she was now suffering from an almost overwhelming desire; she wanted to taste the luscious, swollen, overripe fruits her hands now fondled.
She said so.
"Good," Jackie breathed. "So do I! Look, if I get over here beside you, like this-and lie back, this way, and you get up on your hands and knees-uh-huh, yes, and then move over here-right. Now you can lean down and get your mouth on my breasts-and yours will be swinging right over my face, see?"
Lynn shivered, gasping out a swift "Uh!" as she felt the sudden, sweet, soft jab of a wet flickering tongue over her nipples. Nice! Moving a little to be certain Jackie had full access to her downward swinging tits, she lowered her face to the great white mountains of Jackie's mounded milkballs.
"Umm! Give me tongue, Lynn, suck!"
She lapped, she slicked her tongue over them. Her tongue spun around and around over the tip of Jackie's right breast, imitating the action of the lingual love Jackie was bestowing on her own dangling tit. The solid nipple came feeding delightfully up into her face and she smiled and sucked with absolute delight. She felt the heat, the sensuality that each of the big warm bulges radiated.
Now Jackie had her hands up and was cramming the blonde's tits together, pressing them close and moving her face in short jerks, back and forth, flipping her tongue from one sweet pink nipple to the other as if she were imitating a windshield wiper. She kissed the succulent nubs, nuzzling with her lips. Then she began sucking.
"Uh-ah-o-o-ooh-h-hhhh!" Lynn sighed in ecstasy, and she too began to suckle. The dangling teardrops of her own excited breasts were beginning to feel as if they were afire. She tried to kindle similar flames in the upstanding twigs of Jackie's nipples.
Jackie's hand went moving down the kneeling girl's fluttering belly, making her squirm, approaching the split pouch of her naked shaven cunt. She began fondling the swelling, furless pubis of the girl who feasted on the stiff and perky nipples tipping her soft breasts.
Slowly, gently, carefully, the experienced lesbian began tickling her hand's longest finger into the clasping vaginal aperture. The sheath and its sleek firm lips were fervently soft, and she smiled at the feel of the dewy coating over the satiny inner surfaces of those sweetly puckered lips. She moved her finger in tickling motions, still exerting an increasing suction around the kneeling girl's nipple.
Lynn was growing hotter and hotter, and her attentions to Jackie's jugs grew more and more fervid. Drawing into her mouth a firmly swollen bulbil of erected flesh like crushed red fruit, she began sucking hard. Jackie's fingers were now stroking hotly over the pink pussy lobes and the firm nubbin of Lynn's sensation, which was thrusting forth to part those gasping labia.
Two women curling together on the bed, an experienced heterosexual with qualms about lesbianism and lesbians, and a seasoned and experienced lesbian-and it was not the lesbian who initiated the warm wet joining of mouth to cunt!
Writhing in lust, feeling the blood pounding through her head in waves, and suddenly gripped by an uncontrollable and furious wantonness, Lynn abandoned the big tit she was mouthing and lunged down the other woman's body. She hardly felt the slight pain when her movement tore her nipple from Jackie's mouth with a scraping of its tender surface over the woman's teeth. Then Lynn was pressing a full-mouthed, passionately warm kiss to the child-smooth mount of Jackie's vulva.
"Uh-ummmm!" Jackie gasped, then sighed in surprise and pleasure. Almost instantly she was exerting pressure against Lynn's inner thigh with her hand, so that the girl swung her leg up and over and was then kneeling astride the supine lesbian-while lesbianizing her soft swollen pussy.
Jackie drew the girl's hips down and slid her tongue between the soft protective folds of her labia, barely parting the pink crease between them in a way that sent hot thrills steaming through Lynn's body.
Lynn sucked in a deep breath. Musky sex scent wafted forth from Jackie's fat, pouting cuntlips to fill her nostrils. Her mouth dropped open as she enjoyed the fantastically pleasure-ful sensation of the redhead's tongue moving up and down her slitted cunt. She bent to perform the same action in Jackie's slit.
Lynn sent her tongue plunging into churning cunt, igniting a flame in Jackie and pumping up the liquid to put it out.
The two women began licking, sucking, softly mouthing, sending tongues deep into increasingly wet sexual clefts and rubbing pulsing clits with noses and tongues. Lynn felt the top of her head threaten to blow off when the supine woman drew her hips down still farther and began licking up and down the crack between her buttocks. She moaned. She tensed her lithe legs involuntarily. Her tongue pressed deeply into the silken membranes of flowing, pulsing cunt. She lapped and lapped like a pussycat, licking away at the hot flesh of the redhead's long slick furrow.
Then she was taking a tongue up the ass, and she groaned and shuddered violently. Her tiny anal mouth opened willingly to admit Jackie's wriggling, pressing, wet tongue. Like a greedy and unsated mouth, her anal sphincter tried to suck up the other woman's tongue. Then it was sliding out, again sweetly licking and licking the long shining furrow between the two perfect halves of her upturned rump, sprung wide by her wide-legged kneeling position. She nearly collapsed, her chin taking most of her weight, pressing and crushing into Jackie's vaginal bulge.
Having accomplished her purpose of moistening and opening her lesbian partner's snug little anus, Jackie returned her mouth to the slashed purse beneath it. It and its parted lips glistened with saliva and inner fluids. Jackie slid her tongue into the slot and began tongue-pumping it. After a moment, she began sliding her finger into Lynn's asshole, and it went easily. The younger girl groaned aloud, shuddering violently and wagging her hips.
Then Jackie gripped her sweet blonde head between her big thighs and held her there, mouth to cunt, while she gave Lynn's cunt a tongue-fucking and her anus a finger-fucking the girl would not soon forget.
A tremor ran through Jackie's big body; she came, sighing and shivering. Lynn slid her tongue off the sheathed clitoris and began lapping up vaginal fluids until once again that rubbery little cock-like excrescence came throbbing up out of its sheath and poked its shiny head between the apex of Jackie's open labia. Again Lynn began licking it.
All the while, she was being just beautifully licked in the vaj and fingered in the ass. She felt her rectal channel getting looser and looser. It felt good, that sliding, slicking, probing finger up her secret back-passage! She wagged her hips and licked away at Jackie's clit with an avidly pressing tongue.
Another minor orgasm shook the redhead's large frame. Again her thighs clamped Lynn's head. And, holding the blonde there in that warm vise of savory flesh, she began licking and nibbling at the girl's clit, a firm, quiveringly erect bud of feeling.
Jackie was Lynn's fourth sexual partner of the evening-and the first who made the girl become a flaming mass of desire and satiation; who made her come, and come, and come.
Lynn was still lying there, gasping and sighing, and gratefully, blissfully smiling, when Jackie very reluctantly checked her watch, got up and dressed, kissed the limp blonde a last time, and left the room.
Lynn lay staring at the ceiling in delicious ennui until the short man named Joe came in, fully clothed, shoved two fingers callously up her cunt, and told her to get off her ass and get ready for her next client.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lynn was in the bedroom setting again, this time wearing only the crotchless panties and the lacy, front-latched sleep-bra. Her hair was down, foaming over her shoulders and partially covering her face. Her wrists were decorated with (quite comfortable) black leather cuffs three inches wide. Each had shining silvery studs and an attached ring and clip, so that her hands could be clipped easily together either in front of her or behind her-or to the similar ring in her collar. It too was of black leather, much narrower than the cuffs, and buckled in back.
She gazed at the card.
There was no name. She was supposed to call him "Sir" and "Master." He had marked N for "slavish," along with A and B. After A was the notation: from behind. OK. He wanted a slave, but he didn't intend using any form of discipline on her. He just wanted her to suck his cock and then get on her hands and knees like a bitch in heat while he fucked her from behind. Lynn sighed. She could stand that.
She just hoped her pussy could stand the workout it was getting on this, the strangest and sexiest and most sexually active night of her life!
And her mouth! It was really being initiated with a vengeance; tonight was the first time in her life she had ever had it on a man's prod, and here came the third cock to seek its caresses!
The door opened and he came in, and the two of them stared at each other.
Suddenly each of them had the same thought; suppose the rooms of this place were somehow monitored, so that the proprietor of the Palace of Venus could eithlr watch or listen to-or both-what went on in his erotic establishment?
Dear god, Lynn thought, it's Pete, and I don't dare call him by name or act like I knotv him at all! I hope he has sense enough to think of that! To remind and coax him, she bowed her head and said, "Hello Master."
Jesus H., Pete was thinking, it's Lynn! She did get a job here, and I had to decide I wanted to try the slavegirl thing! But I've got to go through tvith it; these people may have concealed cameras and microphones in these rooms. Damn-I hope she has sense enough to think of that!
Then the sexily submissive and leathered girl bowed her blonde head sweetly and said, "Hello, Master," and Pete knew she had indeed thought of it-and he also felt his cock lurch up and start throbbing like a dynamo. The thought hit him. All this time he'd been thinking about getting head from her! And now, here in the Palace of Venus, thanks to Bill Grenell and his membership card and Congressman Eugene Wallace and this assignment-now she's going to wrap that pretty mouth and tongue around my cock!
Weird. They'd asked him what he wanted his slave's name to be. And he had answered almost at once, without thinking: "Lynn." Lynn!
He took a deep breath, swallowed a couple of times, and started being worthy of the name Master.
"Hello, Lynn. Your master is tired and needs a good cock-sucking and then a little rearward fuck tonight. Hit your knees, please."
Shocked, Lynn stood there and stared at him. Then she collected herself. She gave her head a little jerk as if she were snapping out of a trance.
"My master isn't even going to kiss his Lynn? Do you want me naked for you, Master, darling? Just-hit my knees!"
He sighed. His head jerked in a brief shake of exasperation. "Oh, Lynn! And with Igor on vacation, too! You could use a good touch of the whip, my girl! Don't question me, or I'll have to consider selling you back to that diseased Arab I bought you from when you were twelve and earning your living on your back in Cairo!"
Lynn's mouth dropped open and she quivered in suppressed anger.
"Clothes?" he said, warming to his role, enjoying it. "Clothes? I see that that wisp of lace can be got off your tits very easily, simply by unfastening the catch in front. And as for those panties-well, dear, they look like a picture frame, a display case for your pussy!" He dropped his eyes to that shocking vista again, softened, and told her quietly, "It looks just beautiful shaved, by the way."
"Th-thank you, Master. Dear."
He started forward, peeling off his shirt. He had left his jacket and tie out front, this time. Silly to dress and undress and dress and undress again! He planned to find out all he could about this place, do his duty properly-if it meant fucking himself bald-headed!
He opened his pants and tugged out his cock. It was long and thick but not tall. It had achieved something like half its potential erection, from no more than his thoughts and the marvelous spectacle of a slavish, ultra-submissive Lynn Berkley-with her pretty puckered mouth available to his masculine probe. It flopped thickly out and dangled before him, drawing her eyes in an instant.
He stood there and stared at her until she lifted her own gaze from his hanging penis to his face. For a moment she was still. Then she remembered. Realized that he was waiting. Remembered where she was supposed to be.
Her shapely breasts bounced half out of the loose and lacy halter as she went sinuously to her knees before him.
Pete stood there and looked down at his slave. Admired her mouth. Studied the full, pretty pink lips. Thought about the wet little pointed tongue lurking about inside. And his prick thickened a bit more.
"Get some head around it," he told her in a quiet, steady voice.
She licked her lips and the sight of her tongue sent a little shiver running cat-footed up his spine. Then she raised her hands. Scooping up the whole package of balls and limp meat in her hands, she bent to kiss the crown of his cock. And she heard his long, contented sigh.
I've been waiting a long, long time to get her face wrapped around my dork, he thought, and another jolting tingle ran up his back.
Holding his half-erect cock with both hands, she let it slide slowly, sexily, between her soft lips. He groaned, moving slightly to explore the warm moistness inside her mouth with the bulb of his throbbing prong. He felt her tongue slipping around and over the crown, then the veined shaft of his needy tool. What a sweet, wet haven she formed for his sexual flesh within her pretty face! She sucked it softly. Her fingers played over the wrinkled flesh of his scrotum. The wrinkles became fewer as his testicles tightened up. His penis began throbbing harder, and it stirred in her mouth, slipping and flopping against the fleshy inner lining. He watched her pretty, lipstick-free lips spread, dilating as they champed on his meat, and he listened to the soft sounds of her sucking. With hands and lips and swirling, swerving tongue, she worked to revitalize his tool and its carnal resources.
He watched more and more of his prick's turgid shaft appear, slipping out of her mouth. It was growing in the luscious recess of her face, becoming thicker and longer and forcing itself backward out of her oral grip!
But-he frowned slightly. She seemed perfectly content, devoted to her task. She acted as if she'd been sucking cock all her life. She did it well and ardently. But...? She had never-good lord, he thought, what I've been missing-and has it been my own damned fault?
Or-another thought came. Maybe she'd had to, here tonight; he didn't know how long she'd been here and how many clients she had had.
Suddenly he wanted to know. "Lynn."
With her mouth stretched into a taut ring by his thoroughly tumescent prick, she rolled her eyes questioningly up to him.
"How many cocks have you had in your mouth tonight?"
Wonder of wonders; beauty of beauties! The kneeling doll blushed! Grinning, he waited for her answer. She was obviously most reluctant to reply. But she did. This was her master. They might be watching, listening....
"F'ree," she said, around her mouthful of swollen dick.
That hit him! Recovering, he said, "Three! And you're beautifully good at it, too. You must love having a mouth full of cock meat."
That prompted her to slide her mouth backward off his, leaving it shiny-coated with saliva. She looked steadily up at him and said in a quiet, sincere voice, "I do."
His hand slid into the mass of her blonde hair. He made a little lurching movement with .his tight-clenched buttocks. "Then do it some more," he said, and shoved his cock back into her f
"Gl-l-l'lgl!" Her head tried to jerk back and her eyes flared. But his hand in her hair held her in place while he filled her mouth with his flesh-and kept shoving. Her adams apple bobbed again and again. She trembled. He had to maintain a tight grip in her hair to keep her from pulling her head back. His cock was so far into her mouth now that it stretched her wide open and thrust her jaws out, until she felt the strain and worried about choking. He was doing no more and no less than fucking her face like a cunt.
She gagged and trembled. He seemed determined to seek out her very tonsils with the bulbous head of his surging masculinity. She emitted a gurgling cry. It felt as if the big helmet of his glans were trying to cram itself down her throat. She tried to open her mouth even wider to relieve the growing, terrible strain. She could not. Her lips were distended to their limit and her jaws were at the cracking point.
"Ummm," he said, taking a long deep breath and tilting back his head in rapture. Then he looked down at her again. "Hold it that way, now. Your master doesn't want to feel your teeth." And he pulled something like a third of the length of his horn out of her gaping mouth.
At least that enabled her to breathe, to swallow, to move her tongue. She was grateful-and angered because he had done it, and now made her feel that gratitude! Damn him! Taking advantage! Treating her like a slave! Fucking her face as if he had indeed bought her and cared nothing about her comfort....
She dropped her hand casually, hoping he didn't notice as she checked herself. Her fingers traced through a well. She shivered and .would have sunk her teeth in her lip had it not been straining around his big organ. He was using her, she was angry, it was terrible-and how come she had gone all wet and juicy in the vaj?
"All right," he said with a casual quiet manner and voice, "now suck it like you mean it!"
She sucked it like she meant it. She meant it.
Her parted pink lips formed a soft and exciting oval all around his pole of enflamed flesh. Her eyes fluttered and she sucked with lascivious joy, her cheeks pale and tissue-thin with expansion. He began surging his hips involuntarily at her sweetly sucking face. He was caught up in fiery lust from the soft wet pressure of her tongue and her soft, damp, distended lips. Now he made his erection a suffocating gag of flesh, forcing her to submit to his masterly cock.
With one hand she fondled and manipulated his rumply scrotum; the other she passed between his thighs to caress and stroke and press the tight, small cheeks of his rump. She leaned in to him and pressed close so that both of them could feel the exhilarating pressures of her tits against his trousered legs. She pressed in harder, deliberately wagging her shoulders to gain the rough caress of the fabric of his pants against her nipples. They swelled rapidly into thrusting buds, and she kept pushing them forward and moving them back and forth.
He quivered and squirmed helplessly under the sensations of her clinging lips and her voluptuous and ineffably sensual mouth. His balls were fired and tightened by the wet sucking sounds she made. He gazed down at her, at her fluffy blonde hair, at her crown where he could just see the darker roots, moving as she bobbed her head to slide her mouth up and down the length of his stormy shaft.
He considered ending it this way. Letting her suck him off. All the way, until he creamed down her throat in squirts of warm, sticky milk from his balls. The thought of it made him tremble. His teeth sank into his lower lip.
But-no. No, he wanted to ball her just as he had stipulated on the menu, up her cuntal canal from behind with her pretty pink and white bottom waving before his face and brushing his crotch.
He pressed, with the hand in her hair, backward. Slowly the thickly dilated shaft of his sex emerged from her mouth. It was wet and gleaming, sparkling with saliva. Then the fat head emerged, and his hard-on snapped up and back to thump his belly before riding there before it, standing straight up about an inch from his stomach. She looked up, and for a moment they gazed into each other's eyes. Pete and Lynn. Legislative Assistants on special assignment. Secret agents. Partners....
He bent, slid his hands into her armpits, and aided her to her feet.
They stood for a moment, hands on each other, looking at each other. Then he was glancing around the room, taking stock, thinking, working out a minor logistics problem ... It was very minor, he saw. He turned her toward the bed, fondling one loosely slung breast as he did.
"Kneel right there on the edge of the bed," he told her, "with your legs out over the edge and your ass up."
"Oh, yes, Master. My master's going to fuck me now?"
"Your master sure as hell is!"
He saw with pleasure that she was ready and more than ready. She hurried, practically trotting over to the bed. She knelt swiftly on it. With a glance at him over her shoulder, a little smile, she dropped forward onto her hands. She had been well used this evening, but one thing she remembered about Pete Ryan, and on this busy night in the Palace of Venus she had had adequate opportunity to make comparisons. The man had staying power, meaning he slid it in and out long enough to let a woman know she'd been screwed well and deep, rather than stuck, briefly rummaged, shot into, and abandoned as used meat.
For his part, Pete had been beautifully sucked and was both aroused and anxious to get his cock in out of the cold. Now he smiled, gazing at the taut-skinned, perfect hemispheres of her upturned rump. It was beautifully naked, and the exciting pink purse of her shaven pussy was temptingly displayed below and between those fine asscheeks. He hurried to them.
She was prepared and she was ready, but she gasped and jerked forward anyhow-for she had not dreamed that his entry would be so swift and sudden, all in a rush the moment he came up behind her! His hands had hardly fallen clampingly onto her hips before he was shoving the head of his saliva-slick cock into her from behind.
Parting, perfectly moistened lips opened and caressed the incoming male, titillating the entire swollen length of his shaft.
Juicy-pink lips and then her thermal depths enveloped his prick like a searing furnace.
His trousered body thumped against her proffered buttocks.
And he was all the way up her cunt.
"Ungh-ahhh!" she gasp-cried, taken by surprise, shocked-and delighted. It felt so warm and solid and male, so good contained within her body. And now, as he moved restlessly to imbed himself absolutely as far inside her as he could, she smiled at the feel of his body slithering over the quivering warmth of her buttocks. Her naked breasts, elongated as they swung beneath her, began swaying and jumping wildly beneath her frenetically writhing body. She was screwing herself back on his thick pole as energetically as he pressed it into her.
The taut supple bulges wiggled and squirmed beneath his hands. The hot wet slash beneath them worked on his straining cock. The slippery pole worked in and in and scoured her inner vaginal walls. Loving it, loving him and his cock and her servile position, she wriggled and writhed in a provocative series of movements that spurred his passion and worked to tighten up his balls.
It was damned near too much for him: her servility, her superb cock-sucking, her calling him "Master" after all the time they had worked together. Intense pleasure and excitement gripped him as he skewered deep into the dilated hole, caught up in the throes of violent balling fervor.
The wet avid pocket of her pussy caressed his cock and bathed it in its slippery secretions; her jiggling buttocks cushioned his slamming jerking drives into her; his cock rammed deep like a well-oiled piston. Desperately tugging at buckle and then zipper, he let his pants drop so that he could scrub her butt with his lower belly and hairy crotch. And he pushed in and pulled out, rocking her body with his hands on her naked, gloriously swelling asscheeks.
His cock ranged deep, his groin flattening out the rounded bowls of her upturned buttocks. Their resilient textures thumped and caressed him as she jerked back. Her hips pumped hard in response to his rearward strokes into iier hot clasping cunt.
He was pushing, grinding, plumbing the depths of her passion-seared gash, pushing her inner flesh around with hard cock, skewering her to the end of her cuntal tunnel, teasing the flinching little neck of her hot womb with his cockhead, kindling a raging fire in her and in his own sexual flesh, an inferno in his balls, which tightened up more and more as he fucked her like a stallion.
He clung to the writhing flesh of her ass and thumped those out jutting cheeks with his body as he thrust his cock in and out of the widespread cleft from behind. The cheeks were a pair of billowy mounds, resilient as silk-covered foam rubber in his clamping fingers.
Easing up deliberately in his usual effort to prolong the joy of fucking, he reached around her kneeling body. His hands found her down-swinging breasts, plucked and pressed them. She sighed and wiggled and crushed her bottom back against him, enjoying the feel of his hairy flesh against the palpitating mounds of flesh.
He made his breast-fondling hands deliberately rough. He squeezed hard and jammed them up against her chest. Then he strummed both jutting pink nipples until sensual, liquid fire gushed through her loins. She gasped in pain and shocked astonishment when he pinched them, hard. Yet, even so she was aware, too, of the ecstasy that was coursing through her from his harsh manipulations. Her buttocks revolved and jiggled, stroking his body and making his prick flail about inside her.
Supporting her weight on her knees and one hand, she thrust the other hand back beneath her. Anxious fingers found just-as-anxious clitoral bud, throbbing out at the top of her well-plugged vaginal entry. She pressed and rolled and circled it-as he pressed and rolled and circled the larger erections of her nipples.
He heard her moaning, felt her trembling. He knew what she was doing, knew she needed the sort of clitoral manipulation she was giving herself to get herself off. Good-and what a joy and thrill it was to treat her pretty tits as if he were contemptuous of them! He knew her nipples were crying out in silent agony as he squeezed harder and began turning the tumescent pink knobs.
She groaned loudly when he abruptly released her tortured tits and, straightening, dragged the full length of his cock out of her. He made her groan again when he drove it back in with a force that knocked her forward on the bed. Grasping her hips, slipping his hands into the perspiration-wet creases between them and her bowed body, he dragged her back and bent his knees to thrust hard and deep up her flowing cunt.
Moaning and whimpering in lust and helpless knowledge that she was being used, used by a man who had long been a co-worker and a gentle lover, who had brought her off time and again with his hands and mouth, she circled her pulsing lovebud with her fingers. Waves of oceanic lust rolled through her belly and a rain of her sexual secretions bathed the cock working wildly in and out-of her.
"Eh-eeeeyahh!" she squealed as the magic moment arrived.
She stiffened, jerking and arching her body. Swelling, pulsating waves ran through her cock-dilated pussy in an endless outpouring of passion and satiation. She'd have fallen limply forward had he not held her up, on her knees, while he continued to rummage her from behind.
It kept happening. She kept popping and popping. Jerking her head from side to side, she squealed and sighed out her hot wet orgasm.
And he continued jamming into her, whipping backward, and cramming back in again! It was too wonderful. She had never experienced an orgasm like this, going on and on and on while he kept her contracting cunt full of his thick hot meat. He had always waited until she was through and recovered from the moments of ennui, she realized. Because that was the way she wanted it.
The way I used to want it, she thought firmly, and with both hands firmly braced on the bed, she crammed her cunt back up his deep-delving shaft.
He shivered and stared down at her wildly bobbing body. The walls of her pussy rubbed his tool in a heady rhythm, the inner muscles grasping and milking in a wet, throbbing fervor. He threw his meat to her with all his might, forcing her to swallow every inch of it in the full red mouth of her open pussy. She began moaning in a weird erotic agony as, bending lower, she felt her sensitive nipples dragging over the rumpled sheet.
"Now," he gasped, weakly. "Now-coming-move-suck it off-yourself!" And with difficulty, he braced his hands on her buttocks and stood straight and still behind her.
His words electrified her. She bounced and bobbed and jerked herself back and forth as if unable to break contact with a hot wire. The slurping wet lips of her soupy cunt rammed back along his shaft, all the way to his body. She could feel his curling mat of crotch-fur tickling the gaping, sensitive lips-and the head of his cock threatening to plug up her cervix.
Then he cried out, almost a yell as a violent series of ejaculations took him. He stood there behind her, shuddering, straining hard to sink his jerking cock another millimeter into her as it started firing powerful, spasmodic bursts of jism. Hanging onto her hips, he crammed his crotch against her rump until his spasming body had completely drained itself in her.
Then he sagged weakly forward over her back. His weight pressed her down and down-her knees slipped-both of them tumbled exhausted onto the bed.
"Uh, oh, oh, Pete," she gasped, "Pete, darling!"
And in another room, the man watching them on his closed-circuit television screen narrowed his eyes and leaned forward suddenly at her words. They sounded less like the response of a member of this organization to a client than any words he had ever heard.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lynn put in a lot of time mentally castigating Pete after he'd left, but after awhile she began to think more logically.
He was investigating, she realized. Sure he was a client here, and sure he had checked off activities other than what passed for "normal." He wanted to know all about the Palace of Venus. In point of fact, she mused, he may have been putting her down pretty hard mentally, too, for having found her working here! She assumed that he, too, would arrive at the proper conclusion: that she had found her own way to get Inside!
She wondered how he'd managed his entry. Found someone who had brought him as a guest, she thought-but surely he had thought to use the fake last name. These people could be pretty damned angry if they learned that not one but two assistants to their unfriendly neighborhood Congressman were checking them out with a view toward Taking Steps-probably in the name of children, as if children could get in here any more than they'd be allowed to make purchases in adult bookstores! The thought made her frown, as she left the bathroom and tied the sash of the fleecy robe Violet Fletcher had provided her.
I'm here to get the goods on these people, she mused. So my boss can crack down hard on them. Probably a big raid and all that marvy publicity shit for some local DA who happens to be in the right political party-and most likely has a name like Frank X. Houlihan. And that, in a great splash of headlines and local chatter, would be the end of the Palace of Venus.
Bui;-it's obviously a great idea! That guy Jim-here's where he comes to let off steam, the pressure of his inner needs; they differ a bit from what "society," whatever that is, calls "normal," whatever that is. Why, a shrink would say this was a fine idea, a therapeutic establishment! Keeping Jim from grabbing and mistreating some girl in the park some night, when the pressure grew too great. But as long as he can read degradation-type books and come here-he can get it out of his system harmlessly!
Then there's Roger-dear Unca Roger! Lord knows how much good this place does him. He might succumb to raping his own daughter-although he probably wouldn't have to; I think most young adolescents could be persuaded to flop open-legged for daddy, pretty easily. He might not do that, though-and go bats. Or get into alcoholism or something like that. Ruin his life, most likely shorten it, at least.
"Wow, listen to me! I sound like an ad-writer for the Palace of Venus! Hell, I'm sold!" She was opening the door of her tryst-room with Pete, since she didn't seem to have a client right now and was feeling some hunger pangs. Hell, she had a right; she'd been busy!
"You talking to yourself, Lynn?"
It was Violet Fletcher, and Lynn blinked, taken by surprise.
"Uh-yeah, I guess I was muttering. I've been a busy girl, and I'm hungry!"
"Oh, sure. Well, you can go along back to the kitchen and grab whatever you want-or maybe you'd like to make a sandwich and join me. I've got something I want to watch."
"Watch?"
The other woman nodded, then handed Lynn a card. A man named Darrell had checked off E, F, I, R-passive!-and he wanted a tall buxom woman!
"Why lay this one on me?" Lynn asked. "I ain't no tall buxom broad!"
"No, no, I was taking it to Qu-to Peg. We call her Queen. But don't you realize what this guy has specified? He wants to receive medium-strict discipline, and he wants to eat a woman-and he wants it in the ass!"
"From a woman? Queen must be something to see!"
Fletcher sighed with a small smile. "She is, believe me-when she straps on that dildo! Anyhow, there's a one-way mirror in that room, and I am going to watch. I thought you might want to join me."
"Oh, I don't know...." Lynn hadn't decided when Fletcher sort of squirted through a door at the end of the hall, wiggled her eyebrows, and closed the door behind her. The room she entered, Lynn had seen, was completely dark. Frowning, thinking about it, Lynn went on into the kitchen.
Next thing she knew, her heart was pattering excitedly and she was mayonnaising a slice of bread, thumping a thick slab of roast beef on it, and grabbing salt and pepper. Topping it off with another slice of brown bread, she asked and was told where she could grab a beer. Lynn, sandwich, and beer hurried out of the Palace of Venus kitchen to join Violet Fletcher.
She was just in time to see a nicely set up young man of about thirty, presumably Darrell, getting a flurry of crisscrossing slaps across the face from a large woman whose shining purple-black hair was drawn up and back into a fat bun.
She wore large gold circles at her ears-and an incredible "uniform" straight out of drawings. Tight, shining, black leather boots laced all the way up to her knees, over plum-colored velvet pants that fit her as if she'd bought them tight, worn them into the shower, then lain out in the sun to dry out. They clamped her big thick thighs, pressed and moulded the big rounds of her broad butt. Her hips and belly bulged over the tight-gripping cloth of her front-laced pants. Her breasts were partially confined in a short vest of shining black leather. It, too, laced up the front, but rather loosely. A large amount of flaccid-looking white tit jiggled and jostled and pressed strongly against the slim black laces.
And damned if she wasn't wearing black gloves, either leather or wet-look cloth, that rose nearly to her shoulders!
"Good grief," Lynn said, sitting in the padded seat beside Fletcher, right in front of the window into the other room. "Look at her! Madame Domina, in the flesh!"
"Queen," Fletcher corrected. "And yeah, in a lot of flesh!"
"And that's Darrell, huh?" Lynn's sandwich remained poised before her lips.
"That's Darrell."
Darrell wore only his shorts, a pair of standard white briefs. Now, after being slapped several times, he was dropping to his knees before the big, exotically clad dominatrix. Lynn noted that the floor in there was uncarpeted. She felt something like a wince go through her own knees. The big woman stood tall and haughty above him while, submissively, eyes down and head bowed, he began plucking at the laces of her pants.
Her dark eyes seemed to blaze as she stared down at him. She stood dominantly over the kneeling man, her sweat-filmed tits shining and fairly jumping up and down with the intensity of her breathing. Her gloved hands were on her hips and her face was pitiless, completely unyielding.
"Wow!" Lynn breathed, still forgetting to bite into her sandwich.
"Yeah," Violet Fletcher said beside her.
The two secret watchers gazed on as Darrell finished unlacing Queen and lovingly drew down her plum velvet pants. He exposed a tangly profusion of black curls, adorning the lower swell of her belly and choking the junction of her body with her thighs. Shoving his face lovingly forward into that midnight jungle, he began rubbing his nose through it while lapping the hair with his tongue.
Lynn and Fletcher grew helplessly more excited as they sat there and watched. The kneeling man was slicking and sucking and plunging his face deep into the big woman's hairy pussy. Obviously, he loved what he was doing and the way he was doing it. Just as obviously, so did she. Tremors ran through her Amazonian frame. Her gloved fingers curled and bit into the flesh of her own meaty hips. Her big buttocks tightened up and pumped her crotch into his face. Her eyes rolled, but retained their glaring glitter.
Then she was shuddering and jerking. Her hands held his face so close into her that she must be smothering him. Her mouth was open, her shoulders hunched and her head rolled, but there was a strangeness; they could not hear what Lynn was sure were orgasmic groans. The lofty dominatrix was coming, and she was coming good and hard.
Then, finishing, she suddenly moved forward, at the same time giving her arms a strong surge at the man's head. He went over backward, reminding Lynn of the way she'd been shoved back, earlier, except that Darrell was receiving something she had not-and she wasn't sorry she'd missed it! Using one hand to direct the flow from what appeared to be a tight cunt, the woman he had just treated so marvelously was directing a stream of glittering amber liquid all over his cowering body.
He took it, lying there shuddering, wallowing, writhing, with urinary streams rolling off him and onto the floor.
When her flow at last trickled off and ceased, the woman called Queen set a booted foot atop her slave's head and pressed his face into a puddle of her liquid waste.
With a shaking hand, Lynn set her sandwich aside. She was watching a super-submissive Darrell crawling about the floor, mopping up the mess under the stern supervision of the tall buxom woman he had come here and actually requested. While he was finishing up his cleaning duties, polishing the floor to a gloss, she skinned out of her pants and unlaced the leather vest. Mountainous in their sensuality, her big red-tipped tits plunged free and swung pendulously low. And she pointed.
Lynn and Fletcher (who had a hand up under her skirt and was emitting a series of rather plaintive sighs) watched while Darrell rose and bent forward over the back of a chair, in which he knelt. Using black cord slim enough to bite, Queen bound his bowed body in place. She wrapped him up like a mummy-except that the slender cords sank in. His flesh bulged whitely out around them. Also bulging whitely out was his bottom, quite nicely rounded, Lynn observed, and lightly haired.
Queen did not step back until he was secured immobile in and to the chair, bent almost double with his entire body bound, his knees forced apart, and his ass projected. His head was aimed floorward. She had dragged his shorts down to his knees, revealing an impressive erection. It left no doubt about his enjoyment and sexual arousal.
Not quite naked, Queen walked with juddering big asscheeks to a table and, for the first time in her life, Lynn Berkley saw a strap-on dildo. A belt hung low on the hips and compressed part of the tops of the lush, trembling mountains of her big ass. Straps ran down and buckled around each thigh. A big nippled cup fit directly over her bushy vulva, covering the bulge, if not all that mass of black hair.
The woman was transformed, changed into an obscene creature of hermaphroditic endowments: big, pendant, floppy tits above great swelling Earth-mother hips-and a great pink cock with a helmeted head, rearing rigid and looking hard as bone from between her bulging thighs. With a little shiver, Lynn watched Queen anoint the head of "her cock" with something glistening and slippery, something that she was not averse to smearing over the fingers and palms of her gloves. At least the dildo was not a monster; although it looked smallish because of the size of its wearer, Lynn felt certain it was perfectly normal in size. Whatever perfectly normal meant-the size of Pete Ryan's prick, then.
"Ungh!" Lynn gasped, and she shivered. She watched with bulging eyes. Her own anus tightened up and squeezed as the woman in the other room stepped close and started shoving her dildo up the anal tunnel of her willingly submissive male.
Lynn and Fletcher sat there, almost forgetting to breathe, and watched Queen bugger the bound, kneeling man. Fletcher tossed herself off, groaning. Lynn tossed off the beer, shivering. And Queen tossed off Darrell, for as she rooted up his squirming asshole with her slippery, sliding, deep-delving godemiche, he suddenly lurched, shuddered violently, and started spurting arcing jets of semen out of his thick erection and onto the chair, the floor-and his own body.
Queen was still sodomizing the man when Lynn and Fletcher were interrupted: a card for Lynn. She inspected it as she hurried to the designated room.
She had just got herself into a sweater and short skirt of pale pink orlon when they arrived. Yes, they. Her next client was a couple, a very hairy man with a growing pot and his very slender blonde wife. Their names were Art and Julia.
Ignoring the fact that Lynn was standing there silently watching, Julia divested herself of her tan maxicoat, and she and Art wrapped it around Lynn's more opulent figure. Then Art tugged Lynn out of the room. In the hallway outside, he pushed her up. against a wall and tried to tickle her tonsils with his tongue, completely ignoring a single passerby-whom Lynn recognized as Darrell. He was walking carefully, a bit heavily. But he looked happy.
Art's hands pressed her breasts through his wife's coat, and his tongue stabbed and circled and sought out the length and breadth of her mouth. Then, with one hand firmly wrapped around her arm, he opened the door and they returned to the room. Lynn blinked and her eyebrows rose. Julia was in the bed! There were her clothes, too, piled neatly on one of the chairs!
As her husband entered with the girl wearing her coat, Julia jerked up into a sitting position. The top sheet slid down to reveal a slim body that displayed much of its bone structure, right through the skin. Her odd breasts were like small moons, round, not tiny, but with hardly any thrust at all. They hugged her slender chest. Their nipples, small and set in dark rings that had obviously been lipsticked or rouged, pointed jauntily at a slight uptilting angle. Her waist looked small enough to be spanned by Art's hands, Lynn thought; how nice to be so small, never to have to worry about gaining weight, and then to be one of those fine-looking older women whose figures were so much better than those who had been far more shapely in earlier years!
Lynn was unable to see the other woman's body below the navel, since she was covered by the top sheet.
"Look what I caught, darling!"
"Wh-why, that's my coat!" Julia said, squinting a little at the girl as Art pushed her closer to the bed. "What's she doing with my coat?"
"She tried to steal it, darling. I caught her just in time. Says she hasn't one of her own, doesn't have any money, and it's cold outside."
Hmp, big deal, Lynn thought. This coat's nice-looking, but it's poplin and couldn't have cost as much as thirty dollars-unless they're rich and can afford to pay a hundred or two for stuff like this from those fancy-pantsy stores that charge all the traffic will bear! She hadn't noticed the label of the coat she was supposed to have stolen. But maxi or not, it wouldn't go far toward keeping her warm cn a cold day!
She went along with their little fantasy, though. "Oh, please-I didn't mean to-I'm so sorry-it's just that;-I'm so hungry and I haven't any money and can't afford...."
"There, hush now," Julia said, pursing her lips and looking sympathetic.
"Want me to call the police, honey?"
"No, oh, Art, let's don't do that...." Julia raised her eyes to Lynn's again, seemed to be studying her thoughtfully. "What's your name, my dear?"
"G-Gwendoline," Lynn said, blinking hard, trying to manufacture a tear.
"Gwendoline. Poor, deer, sweet Gwendoline, out in the cold without a coat," Julia said, shaking her head sorrowfully. "Well, I'm afraid you'd better take it off, dear. We're a very special sort of couple, you see, and there's just one way you're going to avoid a little ride downtown with the police."
"Oh," Lynn said, playing along, "I'll do anything!"
"Good, good, that's perfect, then, dear." Julia watched while the blonde "thief" unbuttoned and peeled off the coat. "Umm, nice figure. Turn around, Gwendoline. Art?"
"Lovely," Art breathed, as if he were seeing the sweater-and-skirt-clad girl's figure for the very first time-as if he hadn't kissed her and planed hell out of the lumps in the sweater just seconds ago!
"Now dear," Julia said, "just slip off that skirt and sweater and let's really see what you look like. For instance-are you a real blonde, like me?" She flipped the sheet down to expose a strangely furred mons veneris. Its fleece was blonde, even more pale than that of her head.
But it was sparse, and it grew not in a triangle, but in a vertical bar that just mossed the pink seam of her vaginal slash.
"Oh, oh, please-you're not going to take my clothes!" Lynn cried piteously, playing her role for all she was worth-and enjoying it. This wasn't the first time she'd been involved in little playlets tonight, and she had already discovered them to be fun.
Julia smiled.."No, no, of course not, Gwendoline, dear. As a matter-of-fact, you can even have the coat, if you-please us."
With Julia growing more and more kindly by the moment, her husband took the opposite tack. "Get those clothes off, girl, and shake it! Otherwise you're going to spend the night in a cell-probably stuck in with a bunch of screechy whores."
Remembering that she was to be L-willing-Lynn was already unzipping her skirt while she looked from one to the other of her "captors."
"Hey-y-y-y, listen-n-nnn-are you two-do you plan to-are you working up a little three-way, here?"
"Don't ask questions," Art snapped, sticking to his stern role. "Just get undressed."
But Julia, gazing into the girl's eyes, said simply, "Yes."
Lynn smiled and ran her zipper the rest of the way down. She wiggled the skirt over her hips and let it plummet. "Oh, good!" she enthused, smiling delightedly at Julia-who was now gazing at her exposed crotch, since Lynn had donned skirt, sweater, and shoes, over nothing.
"Why you little sneak," Julia smiled. "We can't even tell if you're blonde or not. Art-look at this pretty child-pussy!"
Art looked. He licked his lips. Lynn smiled. With her fingers curled up under the hem of her sweater, she asked, "Does it matter?"
"Why, no, of course not," Julia said. "I mean, Art and I don't have any particular fetish for blondes. Judging from your eyes and brows, though, I'll bet that if you let the hair grow on that pretty bulge it wouldn't come in matching your head."
"You're right," Lynn said, and hoisted the sweater, straight up. She felt the baring of her breasts, felt them trembling before her and their tips tightening at the exposure; the room was not cold, not even chilly, but the temperature inside the orlon sweater had been considerably higher than that of the room!
"Umm, wow, aren't those pre-e-tteee," Julia smiled, gazing at the bobbing breasts while Lynn dropped her sweater and fluffed her hair. Then she beckoned. "Come here, dear, dear Gwendoline."
Lynn came here, until her knees pressed the bed. The two naked women gazed into each other's eyes. Then Lynn cupped one of her breasts and lifted it a little. "Would you like to taste?"
Smiling, Julia opened her legs more widely, until' suddenly the slender hairline of her mount came apart like a zipper and Lynn could just see the clover pinkness of dewy inner lips. "No, darling," Julia said, "I don't want to taste anything-it's you who're going to taste. Right here, dear. That's the girl-just kneel there on the edge of the bed and let me feel-ah, ahhh!"
Lynn let her feel it, all right. Mouth and lips and tongue, she pushed her face into the other woman's loins. She assumed the directed posture, kneeling on the side of the bed with her feet and half her calves thrusting out into the air-and every bit of her tight-skinned buns. She hunched down some more, trailing her dangling tits over the other woman's thigh and getting a little charge herself from the contact of nipples with warm, unpadded, and thus very firm, skin. They liked it, and they fattened right up.
Meanwhile she massaged the little nipple of Julia's clit up into similar stiff readiness and caressed the moist labia soothingly until they became more and more moist. Julia sighed and trembled at the voluptuous pleasure warming her belly. The kneeling blonde's sweet mouth unleashed waves of concupiscent rapture that washed over her and made her sigh happily. The busy tongue was a magic wand of exquisite delight. She began stroking Lynn's head and soft blonde hair.
Behind her, Lynn heard the sound of a zipper, and rustling clothes. Realizing that she was stirred up, that she was going to enjoy being balled by a not unattractive man while his wife looked on, she wagged her upthrust, saucy tail in a deliberate come-on. And she kept her mouth busy at Julia's lightly furred and increasingly dampening pussy.
She jerked, then went through a series of trembles and sexually fed whimpers when she felt the hand glide over her own pouched cunt, from behind. Art's fingers came creeping over the hairless pad of flesh, stroking and pressing lightly, until one questing finger found where it was slit. Fingertips brushed soothingly over the soft pink flanges. With a sigh, Lynn thrust her tongue up inside Julia's body. Behind her, Art opened her with soft tickling movements, then slid his finger in between the lips.
"Ah-you've got your finger in her?" Julia asked.
"Yes."
"And how does she feel, inside?"
"Warm. Soft. Pretty snug. And wet. Not moist, but wet." Lynn could hear the smile in his voice. "She's like you are, honey."
"Ummm!" Julia breathed excitedly, and she grasped Lynn's head with both hands to cram it into her crotch. "Ah, ah, aggh!" she groaned, lurching in lust, and she fell backward. One thigh rose to caress the side of the girl's head. "Oh," she sighed, "oh, oh baby, ummmm, what a mouth, oh, you dear, delightful DARling!"
Yes, Lynn was thinking, squirming a little, that's just what I'd say too, if I didn't have a mouthful of pussy! Except I'd be saying it to Art!
Now, gently and easily because of her inner exuding substance, he slid two fingers into the heat of her slippery slit. A soft moan of delight sighed from her parted lips and was swallowed up inside the other woman's slippery socket. Art was bending close behind her, now; she could feel his breath on the backs of her thighs and she knew he was gazing at the wet little gash he was finger-fucking.
He was, and he loved what he saw. Just inside the sweet furrow, he could see the sexily beckoning coral pink of her inner lips, delicately scalloped and fluttering nervously around the fingers spreading them. He pushed them in, pulled, pushed them in again, enjoying the way the girl trembled and wagged her pretty bottom-and loving the sounds of his wife's rising rapture.
His own was rising too, and his need. It was time he replaced his fingers in the slippery tunnel with a part of his body that would appreciate its hot grip a lot more than his hand!
Carefully, slowly, he withdrew his fingers. The supple lips of the vaginal mouth they quit pulsated slowly, remaining slightly parted and invitingly waiting. Straightening, he used his hand to guide his swollen cock into the waiting oval slit.
With his eyes on the enticing rounds of her buttocks now, he sank just the tip of his glans into her moist warm vaginal rift and paused, waiting for her to beg for cock.
Naturally Lynn felt the presence of the big round head just inside her sexual vestibule, and naturally she wanted more of him than that. She tensed her thighs and jerked her buttocks up, at the same time pushing back, trying to nab his prick with the hot breach of her crotch and make it stab deep into her. Her tongue grew less athletic over the nubbin of Julia's sensuality.
Still he held back, clamping her asscheeks with his hands now so as to hold her steady and prevent her backward thrusting. He let it go slowly, teasingly slowly into the kneeling girl, savoring the delicious sensations all over his sensitive organ as he entered her inch by slow inch. She began working her hips and moaning, arching herself up and back to the thick tool that bored steadily into the spongy wetness of her pussy. Steadily-and too slowly!
"Dammit, Art, get it in her-the poor dear's going wild for cock and she's left off tonguing me-e-eEEEE!" Julia's final word rose into a delighted little squeal as her voice reminded Lynn of her lingual neglect. She sent her tongue whirring straight into the long, narrow slit and waggled it back and forth as fast and forcibly as she could. Meanwhile she was getting herself filled up, slowly, and she made throaty sounds of surrender to her own searing sexual urge. She rocked her hips, she pressed backward, she blinked and groaned, more than ready to be opened and probed and plumbed.
Then she was moving less strenuously. She felt his prick's beloved pulsing strength all the way into the well of her belly. She tried to hold it there by directing her brain to find little-used cuntal muscles and make them clamp like an anal sphincter around his warm club of throbbing flesh. Responding to that thought, she clamped her asshole, as tight as she could.
"Uh!" he gasped behind her. "Jesus, Julia-she's got teeth in it! She just grabbed me, with her cunt!"
Smiling, the nakedly sprawled Julia reached out and tweaked the kneeling girl's nipple. Lynn quivered and gasped. Running her tongue out long and stiff, she began moving, skewering Julia's wet hollow with her tongue and stabbing her own damp interior with cock as she moved. She heard sloshing sounds, realized they were coming from not one, but two wetly excited female clefts. She clamped down hard with her vaginal muscles again, grasping his ensnared cock as though her only desire were to send him to a pinnacle of lustful delight more consuming and violent than anything he had previously experienced.
Sliding her tongue up through the supine woman's swampy slit, she pressed it firmly to the plump button she found and began pressuring it firmly. At the same time she bowed her head back, arching it in to force her breasts down and down, seeking more and more of the delightful fondling and pressing of Julia's hands. She had to hold herself steady with her own hands, for the man standing behind her was screwing hard now. His body pounded her pillowing buttocks in grinding, driving, elemental passion. With each thrust his cock was imbedded deep up her vaginal passage. He met his wife's eyes. They smiled at each other.
"Look," she said softly, pulling one of Lynn's dangling, sweaty breasts out to the side so that Art could see its dark, thick tip. Julia milked it with the tips of her thumb and forefinger, while her other hand seemed to try to crumple up the girl's other breast like a mass of putty.
The willing and more than attractive girl was making both Julia and her husband fervently happy. Up on one elbow now, half on her side, Julia was able to see her man screwing the other woman from behind, while she herself quivered hotly from the tender, womanly knowledgeable ministrations of the wiggly tongue-and enjoyed playing with the firm dangling titties that Art's hard drives made jump and swing around beneath the kneeling beauty.
Art, too, was somewhere in the sixth heaven and approaching the seventh. The girl's upturned cheeks were a soft-skinned, firm-fleshed caress against his groin, even while they cushioned it. Her clamping wet burrow gave him more penile pleasure than he'd felt in a long while. And too, he was able to watch her eating his wife, pleasuring her constantly and beautifully, and that was a turn-on to Art, who loved his wife.
As for Lynn, she too was ecstatically happy. The wet softness of the other woman's pussy felt and tasted nicer and nicer. How she loved the hands that palmed and pressed her down-swinging breasts and rolled the fat red nipples between their fingers! But best of all was that big, hot, thick, pussy-pleasing rod of burning flesh that Art stroked in and out, in and out of her cunt from behind.
I'm going to wind up a whore, she thought. I'm getting so much sex tonight I'll never be able to stand to let a day go by without it!
Oh, that's right, man, fuck it to me, cram it deep-I feel you, I feel you-about ready to come too, aren't you? Boy, what a shock to ol' Eugene Wallace and Pete Ryan if she just kept her employment here, stayed on as one of the resident Aphrodites in the Palace of Venus!
She was so wrapped up in herself and what she was doing and feeling that she lurched when Julia's sudden scream interrupted her own private world of united mind and flesh.
But she knew why the other woman cried out that way, and she smiled. And stabbed, hard, again and again, at Julia's twitching pulsing clit with her firm tongue.
Then that over-agitated girl-cock dived back down into its warm fleshy sheath. Julia was gasping, half whimpering cries of sensory delight. Her hands clamped to Lynn's tits as if she were trying to keep from sailing off into space on the magic carpet of orgasm. She sagged, whimpering, almost fainting in the final consummation of her burgeoning passion.
The moment Julia had screamed, Lynn began receiving her second spanking of the night. But this time it was with Art's hammering groin, not a splay-fingered hand. He saw the flare of his wife's eyes, watched her mouth drop loosely open as she lost control of her body, and he knew what it meant, all of it. Instantly he began fucking with all his might, hurrying to catch up.
He screwed his kneeling little shaven-pussied darling with passionate, almost brutal force.
The solid spike of his cock drove hotly in and out of her fleecy, sweat-slick loins with ecstatic urgency. With his body fitted perfectly to hers from behind, spoon-fashion, with her opulent, wildly gyrating hillocks of fanny-flesh fitting perfectly into the hollow of his groin, he pumped the meat to her from behind. He gave it to her with deep-probing thrusts that jarred her whole body, reveling in the delicious contact of his fevered tool with the walls of her molten fissure. Passion and lust and need and volcanic orgasm swelled and swelled in him, and he clung to her swerving, bobbing butt as tightly as his wife gripped the girl's tits.
Then his hot, fevered cock squirted out its full load in copious, flowing orgasm.
Lynn flopped forward onto the bed, onto Julia, with streaming cunt. She had not come, and she didn't give a damn. She felt wonderful, all glowing and happy with the knowledge that this time she hadn't made just one person happy, but two. Two? No, no, she corrected mentally, I'm ecstatic! This time I've made THREE people happy!
She had, and when they dressed and took their leave, Art and Julia left behind the tan poplin maxicoat. Lynn had received her second tip of the evening! ' t
CHAPTER NINE
"B-but-I don't think I can STAND another! I'm shot, through, strung out, Fletcher! Christ, I've never had so much sex!"
"Don't be silly," Fletcher told the limp blonde with the shorn pussy. "A woman can't get too much-and certainly not a sweet little sexy one like you!" She tweaked one of Lynn's naked nipples. With a gasp, Lynn hunched her shoulders in. Fletcher grinned triumphantly. "See? You and your pretty body are all ready to go again, luv! Now you just get yourself back into that orlon skirt, and this blouse rather than a sweater, and here are some shoes and pantyhose."
"Good grief," Lynn said, giggling in spite of herself, "they've got a split crotch!"
"Pantyhose are a great invention," Fletcher told her solemnly. "They look great and they feel great. But they're as bad as girdles used to be, when it gets down to the wire. So-open crotch. I'm amazed you don't have some yourself."
Lynn thrust a hand through the slitted little pile of rumpled nylon in her hand; pantyhose were so tiny when they were off! "Hmm-you tell me where you got these and maybe I will...."
"Never mind," Fletcher said, patting her shoulder. "Get dressed. Here, I'll put the card on the table." And she left with a final smile and a little wave.
Feeling rejuvenated, looking forward to another in a series of new-new-all-new experiences, Lynn dressed: pantyhose (slitted and-drafty!), plain cotton blouse and orlon miniskirt, then shoes. Only then did she go over and pick up the card to see what she'd be doing next.
"Oh, my god!"
His name was Zane, and he had checked off a bad combo, a frightening one. C, H, M, and R.
Zane wanted a submissive partner to whom he would administer "medium discipline," whatever that was, and then whom he would-bugger. With H for "rape" thrown in. God, she thought, trembling. Ass-rape!
And this man wanted her in street clothes!
Then he was there.
"Hi, Zane, darling," she said, hurrying to him. "Your Lynn has missed...."
CRACK! His palm met her cheek in a forcible smack that made her reel and see dancing bright lights.
"You don't call me 'Zane,' cunt! Oh, Jesus, Oh, sweet savior, look at you! You brazen wanton hussy-you aren't even wearing a brassiere, with your milkwagons slopping around in that blouse-and displaying your legs in that short skirt like a scarlet woman!"
"Hey...."
This time he didn't slap her; he reached out instead, just as fast and viciously, and one hand rammed hard against her chest while the other hooked into the high-V'd front of her cotton blouse. And pulled. Cloth tore, buttons pulled, and buttonholes gave.
"Jesus!" she muttered, as ravaged cloth fell away and her tits were suddenly naked and bobbing wildly.
"Don't dare call on Him!" Zane practically shouted, and he grabbed her tits in both hands and commenced mauling them.
"Oh-oww-easy!"
"Don't dare tell me to be easy with you, harlot!"
His hands dropped away from the fleshy balls-then he slapped both palms up beneath them so that they jumped and quivered and she made a squeaky noise of fright and pain. But she dared not pull away or try to flee from this guy who was apparently some sort of religious nut turned off on women....
He balanced her breasts there, nestled warmly and roundly in his hands, which he held extended almost flat rather than squeezing the eminently squeezable flesh. They lay sweetly in his hands, white as milk and just as soft.
"Sir-uh, Master-please-that feels so nice...."
Slowly he began to caress and mould her breasts, filling her with pleasure, bringing them together, pressing them hard into each other's inner surfaces-and then pulling them relentlessly aside, apart, tugging until she gasped at the unspoken threat to tear them gorily from her quaking body.
His fingers pressed hard, twisting, tugging, as though bent on that very end. She groaned and gasped. Her entire body trembled. Her blouse hung loose and ragged on either side of the wobbly fullness and bounce of her mauled tits; otherwise she was still fully dressed, and so was Zane-and he was still squeezing and pressing as if he were in a supermarket, trying to decide on which grapefruits to take home!
But, despite her fear, despite her wishes, he knew just how to make the creamy halves of her bosoms respond until her body writhed and trembled, shaken by erotic thrills. The firm tips were soon thick and fruity, stabbing outward.
She didn't know whether to be mad or grateful. She didn't know whether to thank him or to knee the arrogant mother in the balls. But her body knew. It told her that maybe he was a little nutty, but he was male, and he came on strong, an absolute take-charge guy who had her at his feet, at least figuratively.
"There! There's punishment for these brazen butterballs!" he snapped, releasing them angrily.
"Oh-oh, are you-through with them?"
"Bitch! Shut up and leave the talking to me!" He backed away and sat in a chair. "Strip!"
After a moment of lip-gnawing hesitation, she stepped out of her shoes and unzipped her skirt, then took it off. He rolled his eyes as if in horror.
"Even your underclothing leaves bare your obscene parts!"
"I think it's pretty," she said stubbornly, angered. "And it's handy, too!"
He thrust himself up out of the chair. Before she could flee, he had grabbed her arm, towed her back to the chair, and sat. Instantly he jerked her across his thighs and began bouncing a hard, hard-swung palm off her pantyhose-covered buttocks. They were split back there, too. The harsh impact of his fingertips on the naked flesh in the center of the aperture made louder noises than on the transparent beige nylon.
But she was getting all wet and itchy in the crotch again, and she squirmed to press it against his trousered leg. She knew she would leave a wet spot on his pants. She quaked in the grip of ambivalent responses. The bastard-he was sexing her up-the bastard! But her body was so happy, so full of warm tingles....
Then he increased the pain, by holding her with one hand while he pulled off one of his shoes with the other. "NO!" the girl cried, and she tried to wriggle off his thighs.
He made an impatiently angered little growling sound-and bounced the leather sole of his shoe off her helplessly upthrust butt.
"Yeeee-OWWWW!" She squirmed violently. Tongues of fire blazed a trail across her squirming, rounded buttocks. She tried to wriggle off his thighs in a completely automatic reaction to pain. His left hand clamped hard on her back and he brought the shoe down again.
And again. She felt herself contracting, tightening and loosening spasmodically, as he struck first one tensing, snowy cheek and then the other, until she moaned incoherently. Tears collected in her eyes and stung. Her tormented ass jerked and quivered at each new stroke. She squealed out piteous cries and her belly knotted up. It felt as though her very skin were being flayed from the tensing hemispheres of her flaming ass.
Suddenly he paused. She groaned aloud, lying across him twitching and quivering, exuding sweat from every pore, feeling the sting of the angry-looking welts she knew he had laid across her hindquarters. Then his hand seized her center. His hand was splayed and his fingers were probing, probing. Her breath was nervous, rapid, and moan-filled. She tried to tighten up against the probing fingers at her hairless vulva and the intimate groove of her ass. To no avail-pain or not, her body had responded wetly to the flailing of his shoe onto her buttocks, and two of his fingers did not have to work hard to force themselves upward into her vagina's steaming slit. A third pressed, and pressed-then breached the ring of muscle at the mouth of her anus. It was instantly swallowed up her ass. Sighing, whimpering, trembling in every muscle, she closed her eyes in submissive acceptance and let her thighs sag apart.
Now he held her thus doubly impaled-and began pounding her butt with his leather sole again.
Each succeeding stroke was more agonizing than its predecessor. White skin swelled and reddened and grew more and more pain-sensitized. The magnificent melons role and fell like an angry sea under the intensity of the leather paddling. And still his fingers moved and probed in her, setting up a strange, an agonizingly embarrassing and humiliating, ambivalence of responses in her. She hurt-ecstatically. She felt her flesh flaming-rapturously. Her stomach fluttered and her belly trembled erotically. She began to lapse into a sort of semi-aware delirium of the agony-ecstasy of pleasure/pain. The sounds of his heavy breathing and her own moaning whimpers and the loud smack of broad leather paddle on her rump's twin swells receded to become a form of background music for her drifting into another reality....
She hardly knew how he seemed to have slipped out from under her and bent her over with the palms of her hands on the chair, but she had a sudden vision of the (purely voluntary) punishment of the masochist Darrell by the big woman called Queen-as Zane lashed her wrists to the chair and now used his hands to slap the trembling globes of her well-reddened posterior. Rather than tightening, they seemed to go all loose. Her body was becoming flaccid and weakly receptive, inside and out, sensations of pleasure growing in her loins, and then she realized that she was itching with lust and need for the male flesh she wanted so desperately to have plumbing her wildly inflamed, copiously leaking pussy. She forgot the choices he had indicated on his card. Clinging to the seat of the chair to which she. was lashed, she opened her legs more and more. She wanted, with such intensity that her knees went weak at the thought, to be stuffed right up the middle.
Then she screamed as he shoved his cock up the hot hole of her ass and ground it in to touch bottom, all in one swooping, sweeping lunge.
No matter how sexually aroused she was, no matter how much she had loosened up in sensuous response, no matter how much his gliding, anally delving finger had loosened her up, the advent of his big hard-on into her body's virginal channel was a jagged red pain. It blossomed like a scarlet flower, opening its petals all through her rectum and into her belly. She quaked and lurched. Her bowed head batted the back of the chair and her bound wrists strove to tear themselves free.
All to no avail. He held her steady with both hands to prevent her dislodging his invading meat. Straining forward, he skewered it deep between the big shuddery cheeks and into her tightest, most delicate bodily channel.
"No-noaaaowww! Hurts, hurts-annngh!" She still fought to escape the rearward despoliation, bucking and slewing and rotating her hips madly in spasms. But he merely stood still behind her with his huge erection imbedded deep in her clenching bowels.
The pain began to subside, moving slowly down the scale even as sweat trickled from her armpits, rolled down her dangling tits, and dripped onto the chair seat beneath them: She gnawed anxiously at her lower lip and continued to groan, for even though the jagged edge of the pain had gone, it still hurt. She still felt terribly misused and insulted and angered that he had....
She remembered. He had done precisely what he had indicated he would, when he filled out his "menu." He had treated her like a slave, both hurt and aroused her with both hand-and shoe-spanking, and now he was raping her asshole. She had known it was going to happen-and she had forgotten!
A wave of sensuous excitement rushed over her. I've got a cock in me; it feels good and big and hot and male. And, for the very first time in my life, it's up my ass!
She had read about it. She had thought about it, put off by the ugly, rather sinister words: buggering, Socratizing, cornholing, sodomy ... She had even experimented. With a little lubrication of one sort or another, her own finger had entered her pretty easily. But she had really felt it up there, even her own slim finger. She had feared a penile impalement of that same little passage, then. A cock was a lot bigger than her finger-any cock!
And now here it was, and she couldn't do a damned thing about it. Except-except it's rape, and when rape's inevitable, relax and enjoy it!
With that thought, she relaxed. And the pain and even a good part of the pressure floated away.
OK, she thought surprisedly, happily, I'm ready, rapist-fuck my ass! And with the thought, a , scalding stream of lust seared through her.
He felt her inward relaxation, the release of a portion of the tension around his rectally seated prick. He smiled, rubbing her reddened cheeks as he stood behind her. So her asshole was ready for it, was it!
Then he was fucking strongly up her asshole. His body rammed against her buttocks with ruthless smacking sounds as he pumped it in. His cock sucked in and out of her snug anus with hard, furrowing strokes. Each powerful shove split wide the cleavage between the normally close-pressing cheeks and made certain that his prick's full pumping length was buried deep, deep in her rectum.
Already she, too, was moving, bracing her hands and softly jogging her swollen-cheeked butt. Screw my ass, baby, she thought. Make it a good one!
He gasped, and lust coursed through his veins as he felt her response. He slid excitedly in and out of that darling little rosebud mouth and watched the movements of her shining buttocks. The swollen demiglobes jerked and swivel ed and shuddered. The huge thickness and length of his cock demanded, forced an even greater expansion of her anal tissues. They squirmed and dilated all around the shaft of fire that seared up her back. Her dangling breasts slapped each other. Hot juices filled her pussy and its mouth gaped open to let them leak from her. It felt huge, hot, and frightfully empty, but....
It was coming! She was going to make it! A wavering cry emerged from her lips. She tried to throw her head back. Surges of climactic thrills rocked her. Every thrust up her back boundlessly heightened her searing bliss until her body exploded, seemed to come all apart in a violent orgasm, tearing open in cataclysmic response until she felt buried beneath an absolute avalanche of pleasure.
She sagged weakly, kneeling there in exquisite ecstasy.
The man behind her continued sawing in and out, in and out, in and out-until he shivered, stiffened, and crushed his pelvis into her cushioning buttocks. Then came a new thrill for Lynn; despite what she had read, she had never felt semen spurting into her pussy, never after that first time back when she was fourteen. But she felt every one of his pumping surges of final release, felt every squirt of his thick hot cum shooting up her bowels. And she loved it, and realized that the gentle tingling that ran all through her was a new ecstasy, a new orgasm, a mini-climax that wasn't an all-powerful release like the first, but a gentle and lovely response to her rearward receiving of his sperm.
She sighed when he drew it out of her with a little squelchy sound.
She was still kneeling there, bound and sighing, when the knowledge hit her: he had left. He had gotten dressed and left the room, and she hadn't even noticed-and she was still bound on her knees in the chair with semen oozing out of her asshole! It tickled.
Fifteen minutes passed, fifteen frightening, dragging minutes, before the tall slim guide-girl came in and found her. Muttering, she untied Lynn and helped her over to the bed, although Lynn was quite able to make it herself. She thought that she was quite all right, really, and she told Fletcher so when the redhead entered bearing a brandy. That Lynn accepted gratefully, noting from Fletcher's watch that it was after three in the morning, and she sipped and sighed as warming waves of distilled wine made a sort of inner love to her stomach.
The next thing she knew she was lying on her back in that same bed and Fletcher was standing over her, wearing a different dress, smiling and telling her how marvelously she had done and how zonked she must have been, because it was four in the afternoon.
Lynn blinked, staring up at her. "Four in the-I've slept over twelve hours?"
Fletcher grinned and wagged her head. "Isn't that wild? You really throw yourself into sex, don't you? Hungry?"
Lynn's stomach growled loudly and they both laughed.
"But...."
"But what, honey? Come on, get up and let's find you some food. By the time you're finished it'll be time for tonight's activities!"
"But...."
Violet Fletcher put her head on one side and gazed at her. "All right, I'll bite, if you insist. But ... what?"
Lynn blinked, licked her lips. A little frown creased her forehead, but another surly growl from her lower belly chased it away and made her laugh. She sat up with a sigh.
"But I don't understand-and so what, I guess. I mean, yeah, I really threw myself into it, and a lotta people really threw themselves into me. And yeah, wow, I am hungry, and-oh-oh!" Her eyes were wide as she looked up at the other woman. "I'd better make a little visit before we do anything about food! I had a fantastic enema last night, right before bedtime!"
She and Fletcher were both laughing, although Lynn began frowning again, once she was in the bathroom. Good grief, how could she have slept so long!
CHAPTER TEN
Pete had no reason to worry about Lynn. He lay there in Violet Fletcher's bed, stared at Violet Fletcher's ceiling, and thought about it. Last night ... First there had been the teenager, and then he had gone to the redhead and told her he'd really had a ball-those were his words, and she laughed, and instantly he realized why, and they both broke up. He told her he had a special favor to ask: he'd like to ask that second girl, a blonde named Lynn Somebody, if he could take her home. All of which Pete thought was quite clever of him.
The redhead put her head on one side and regarded him. "Really grooved on her, hm?"
He grinned. "Yeah."
She sighed. "And here I was hoping you were about to suggest taking me home." She shook her head, then stood. "Will you come with me to look at something, Mr.-Cooper, isn't it?"
"Right, Pete Cooper," he acknowledged, following her switching tail down the now-familiar corridor. She paused before a door, glanced at him, smiled, and then pushed it open. She made a gesture, and Pete went into the room.
On a rumbled bed lay Lynn Berkley, on her back, beautifully nude. The general softness of her body, along with the heavy breathing-almost-snores that came from her open mouth, told him that she was fine, but sound asleep.
"I'm afraid you weren't her only client this evening, Mister Cooper. And I must admit that she really climaxed with the last gentleman, who, ah, buggered her. She had a drink or two and flopped, just as you see her. Do you really want to disturb her?"
"Lynn?" Pete said, in a slightly louder voice. The sleeping girl did not stir. He grinned. The little witch! She'd really grooved on it! And up the ass, eh-and camel And now look at her-sleeping like an angel-with-her legs open and her naked shorn pussy looking as ready as ever to grab a cock and suck on it!
He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't want to wake her. She-she'll just spend the night here, is that it?" They were leaving the room, and Fletcher closed the door quietly. She nodded.
"Yes, but-the night? It's twenty of four in the A.M., Mr. Cooper! Also-you're the very last client on the premises."
"Whew. My first time here. Guess I lost my head!"
Walking along the corridor at his side, she said quietly, "Three, wasn't it?"
"Uh, yeah," Pete said, a little embarrassedly. "Three."
"Congratulations. You're a virile man, Mr. Cooper."
Pete chuckled. Then he asked her, "You weren't serious about my running you home, were you?"
"Not if you're not."
He chewed on that one a moment, then said, "Car's right outside. Get your coat."
And he took her home. Had some Baby Swiss and smoked beef loaf with her, and accepted a nice relaxing brandy. Then sleep really came on strong, and he barely made it to bed.
Now he lay there regarding her ceiling, thinking about her and his third girl of last night. Going ape, he had checked off A, D, M, Q, and A-l on the second card, along with B-l, C-2, B-5, and E-5. He had been advised, contritely, that at present the Palace of Venus's available teen-ager would have to come under the buxom category, C-4, rather than C-2, because of her bosom and her bottom. She was not, however, anything approaching overweight.
Pete had advised in his turn that that would be acceptable, and he was shortly facing a pretty blonde teen-ager in a pretty party dress that he left on but pushed up to spank her full bottom, with her lying across his thighs. He enjoyed that-and he thought she did, too. Her name was Madeline. Then he let her up, had her undress, and bade her suck him. She did so nicely. Thinking that she looked about fourteen but could be anything up to twenty, he asked her acre. She wouldn't tell him. He let her suck his cock awhile longer, grooving on her fat tits, and then he drew her to the bed and fucked her nice and slow. He came in her. She had been so nice and tight and cooperative, and it had all been such fun that he just hadn't got around to shoving his prick up her ass rather than into the humid little sluiceway of her young pussy.
Then he had gone out and asked Fletcher about Lynn, which led to his finding her sound asleep, which led him to bring Fletcher home, which led directly to now: his lying here naked in her bed. At four in the afternoon.
When he got up to answer a call of Nature, he found her note.
"You may be a man of leisure, but I have to go to work. You know where. Grab yourself anything that looks good out of the refrigerator and come on over. You're my guest tonight; I have that right. The coffee pot's plugged in."
Yeah, he thought, fine, but he dressed and returned to the motel. There he shaved, showered, and made a little batch of notes for his report to Congressman Wallace. And he went out for a full hot meal; he treated himself to a fat chunk of nearly raw prime rib.
Then he drove to the Palace of Venus. It was coming on for seven o'clock, and he was wondering about Lynn, He asked Fletcher about her, shortly after he arrived.
"What a bastard. Spend the night and most of the day in my bed, and come in asking about that new girl again, hmm?" She wagged her head and made "tsk tsk" noises. She also relieved him of embarrassment by going on, not forcing him to answer: "She's fine, of course. Also busy right now, so you-oh, wait. Would you care to watch her?"
Pete regarded the redhead with lifted eyebrow. "Watch her?"
"Uh-huh. If you promise not to try to help her."
"Help?"
She smiled. "She had some new experiences last night. She found that she-enjoyed them. I mentioned that the sort of activity she very obviously grooved on brought a rather higher salary than the other Venuses get here. She's our resident 4-S."
"4-S? Sounds like a draft status!"
She chuckled. "You've forgotten the Bill of Fare," Violet Fletcher said, handing him one. "See? 4-S."
Category Four: Discipline. Subsection S: severe.
"L-that girl? A masochist?"
"Oh, I don't know if she's that, or not. That's a psychiatric term, after all. But she likes being treated like a slave. And she really turned on to getting her buns warmed. And-poked between."
Wotv, Pete thought, so we came here to check out this place for the boss, and both of us arc learning all sort of new things about ourselves!
"Hmm," he said, feeling a stirring in his shorts. "All the more reason for me to-request her services."
"That can be arranged. Later. I'll see to it, Pete."
"Thanks, and-you mentioned watching?"
"There's a bit of the voyeur in all of us, don't you agree? And yes, you could watch her, right now. With me."
Pete nodded. Fletcher excused herself for a moment, returned with a girl to take her place at the reception desk, and he followed her through a side door and down a hallway-he had not known existed. His heart was thumping rather loudly.
So was Lynn Berkley's. The card in her hand told her that a client had checked D for all of the above: the giving and receiving of oral pleasures, as well as normal intercourse, as well as L, for submissive (but he'd added "protest!"), and then O: inexperience! That would call for an acting job, she mused with a little quirking of her lips. The final letter was one she had not seen before, and it made her heart pound, tightened up her rectal hollow, and sent flutters into her belly and a slightly lower inner cavity.
T: the Chambre de Sade.
So she went there, into a medieval dungeon setting complete with stone walls and chains. She had on a pretty but obviously inexpensive copy of the sort of dress that sloe-eyed beauties such as Patricia Medina wore in all those costume movies about pirates and worse. After baring her shoulders and chest and the upper bulges of her breasts, it fell to the floor in long rippling lines of deep purple. Her bosom was pushed up by the laced corset inside: tight! She felt it, with every intake of breath, squeezing and nipping at her. She waited there, feeling a little like Joan of Arc waiting for the inquisitors.
The place was spooky. Even the lighting was provided by torches that flickered and made little sputtery noises from time to time. She glanced around, half expecting to see a rat or two giving her a red-eyed stare. There were none, but her client arrived.
She was surprised to see that he was not the tall, masterly type, but a quite short man with broad shoulders and a thick chest and a belly. He wore an open robe over briefs, and boots.
"Ah, now then, m'proud beauty," he said, and she had to fight back her giggle. They were going to do an old movie!
He came straight to her, ordered her to be still, and began fondling and caressing her. He had to pull her head down a couple of inches in order to kiss her. Then he ordered her to remove his briefs and caress him with her hands. She did, finding a rather short and stubby cock standing half-erect above a pair of very large egg-shaped balls. She slid her fingers up and down the shaft, making it throb and rise a bit more, and then she started to bend and add the caress of her lips to those of her hands.
That's when the late-movie illusion ended and the Inquisition one returned: he snatched up a nasty, whippy little switch and lashed her projected breasts, once. Sharply. The snapping stroke stung like fire and she groaned and looked down to see a thin red line snaking across the tops of her tits, pushed high by the corset so that they bulged nearly out of the top of her dress.
"I didn't tell you to use your mouth on me, little whore!" he snarled. "Try to be patient."
"Y-yes, yessir!"
"Get up against that wall," he ordered, making the whip keen as he cut menacingly through the air. "Arms out!"
She obeyed swiftly. Within less than a minute, her wrists were shackled to the walls and he was standing, grinning, before her. She tried not to breathe; she didn't want to attract his attention and his nasty little switch to her still-throbbing breasts. (Although when she glanced down at them she saw that the red line had faded almost into invisibility.)
He made her grunt and gasp, made her butt thump the wall and her chains rattle, then, when he literally ripped off her clothing. She stood there whimpering while he stripped her to the corset. Pushing the leather-wrapped handle of a whip up her naked and treacherously moist snatch, he bade her clamp her thighs snugly to hold it there.
"Let it drop out and you'll be tied on that table and whipped," he said. And he began manhandling her again, until her breasts ached and her hips were swiveling, bearing deeply pink fingermarks. A particularly vicious pinch to her left nipple made her cry out and jerk-and the whip dropped to the floor.
She stared at him in mute horror. "Please, I'm sorry, that hurt so-put it back, I'll hold it-oh, wouldn't you like to put your beautiful cock in me?" she babbled, trying to talk him out of that whipping he had promised.
Without a word, he unshackled her arms. She let them drop limply. She winced and moaned when he thrust a thumb up inside her cunt, grinned, and mocked her by showing her how wet his thumb was, and then pushed it back up her. She was forced to walk very carefully over to the strange-looking table, because he had led her that way, with his thumb up inside the helplessly, treacherously, juicy folds of her cunt.
He forced her down on the table, on her hands and knees with her belly quivering at contact with the big roller that ran from one side of the table to the other, about midway up its length. Then he bound her there. The roller punched into her middle, and she tried to hold herself stiff, arching upward, to ease the pressure. That worked only a little; he was not a novice at tying his women down.
I must present quite a picture, she thought. Her arms were drawn up and out, fastened to the corners of the table. She lay over the roller, her naked breasts dangling over its other side. Still, he allowed her to stay on her knees; although her ankles were drawn well apart and bound to the corners of the table, the cords were long. She knew that her naked bottom was poked excitingly and invitingly upward, and that the thick-lipped coral cleft of her vulva was fully displayed, its warm folds sprung well open to reveal the throbbing fissure.
Mounting the table, he played idly with her upturned buttocks. He caressed and caressed them, fondled their sleek, silky skin, then pulled them even farther apart to examine the narrow pink crease dividing them. He gazed in at the slightly puckered little mouth of her anus.
She was already working away at lossening it, thinking hard, telling herself that he was coming into her there and she'd better be as ready as possible because this man had been rough and was certainly going to continue. The prospect both frightened and aroused her. She could not help tremorous little wagging motions of the upstanding and resiliently round cheeks he fondled. She felt the heat of his body as he moved in closer, then the warmth of his prick's head coming into the valley of her parted bottom, and the mildly irritating tickle of his pubic hair. She did her best to make herself utterly limp and flaccid inside.
With his eyes fixed on that sensuously swaying dent, he bent over her back and pushed himself between the bound kneeling girl's flaring cheeks.
They parted still more under the pressure of his body. The crown of his cock separated the matched mountains and thrust straight into the mouth of the juicy chink they sought to hide. She squirmed a little. He pressed his hands tightly onto her hips. He maintained a steady pushing, running his prick forward with the full weight of his body, but slowly.
He's more considerate than I'd expected! she thought, and wondered at the possibility that she was a little-just a little-disappointed....
The soft tight warmth of her ass enveloped the bloated head, but at the same time tried to hold it at bay with a frenetic squeezing of strong, sphinctering rectal muscles. With conscious efforts, she relaxed them and opened her readward channel to him. The presence of that inflamed and fiery muscle in her was-nice. She remembered last night. A cock up her ass had made her come! That thought made her tremble and she felt the surge of voluptuous sensations, deep inside her. The snug little passage relaxed even more. His hips and belly pressed against her upturned buttocks. He-and she-had sunk his prick to its ultimate length up the hotly quivering furrow of her back. She felt his little trembles as he felt the snug soft pressure all around his cock. Her own body shivered and surprised them both with a little convulsive jerk, already helplessly caught up in the throes of lustful cravings.
Holding himself well up inside her, he reached around and palmed her tits, hanging onto the big dangling ornaments while his fingernails flicked maddeningly at their nipples. She sighed in pure delight.
"Umm-oh, oh, that feels so nice!"
It did. Her naked body was quivering, her juices boiling, her cunt weeping slick tears of lubricating oil, her rump wiggling high in the air and filled to capacity with hot thick male meat.
He began to move, and so did she.
She rammed herself back on his thick prick, hurting her wrists but satisfyingly skewering the butter-soft depths of her asshole in the intensity of unleased sensuality. He reacted with surprise and was still for a time, shivering in the delicious sight and sensation of her fucking her own ass on the broad stiffness of his cock. The kneeling girl's asshole was a tight-clenched band around his thick shank. Each time she drew forward to prepare for another backward stroke, the tiny mouth of her anus stretched along his shaft, and he could look down to see the beautiful phenomenon, the tight ring actually looking as if it possessed lips, ripe lips, red and moist and shiny like a newly flowered rose.
Then he could be still no more. Seizing her hips, he made her groan when he rammed in hard and ground himself against her cushioning rump. He drove the great bar of hardened flesh in again and again, shoving it deep up her rearward channel and then pulling until only the tip of his cock was within the dilated anal ring. His arms tensed and his hands pressed down and outward. He was spreading her asscheeks to the utmost and grinding hard into the deepest well of her rectal tunnel. She groaned and moaned and shuddered in delight, smiling at the table top in a near-narcotic joy Narcotic-yes, yes, she thought, I'm high on sex, high on his big hard hot ramrod tip me, high on fucking-on getting my ass fucked!
The big pendant lobes of her tits jumped and shuddered beneath her with every impact of his driving body against her fleshy asscheeks. She felt their weight, and that was nice, too, for everything was nice, and sounds of bliss gurgled in her throat. He was fucking her hard now, as if he were trying to rip asunder the tender tissues of her anal channel-but she didn't mind. It didn't hurt. It was nice, getting it hard and fast and hot and having her bottom spanked by his body!
She rested her cheek on the harsh table without noticing its unyielding harshness. With her head down and her back a long declining slope, her divided rump was pointed almost straight up. His flailing cock explored the deep hole between those lovely cheeks, slicing in and out of the hot smoothness of her open little asshole.
Awash on an ocean of pure carnal bliss, Lynn began coming, and coming, and coming.
"Christ," the watching Pete Ryan said, "he's trying to drill a hole into her intestines!"
Beside him, Violet Fletcher was quivering and gnawing at her lip. Her eyes were very bright, fixed on the activity she and Pete "Cooper" were watching in the Chambre de Sade. Oh, but that Lynn Rolland was something else-damned if the little beauty wasn't getting it off, blowing her caps, enjoying a cum while that sadistic Paul Clair, the high school principal, pounded her ass with his body and her inner asshole with his cock!
He glanced at her. The Palace of Venus receptionist had her dark blue skirt hiked up and one hand buried beneath it. He became aware of juicy sounds as her arms jiggled, alive with flowing tendons and muscles.
Turning his eyes back to the big window into the Chambre de Sade-on the other side, it was a large mirror-Pete let his hand slide over and across the redhead's nyloned thigh. It slipped up the just-as-smooth fleshwarmth of her thigh until his hand contacted hers. He slid his fingers over it, stroked it, and then tugged it away. A moment later he had one finger thrust well into the slicky softness of her profoundly wet pussy and another slithering about over her clit.
"Uh-oh, ohh, Pete-oh, like that yes, just rub, circle it-ummmmmmm! Oh, that's so-o-o nice-ohh, oh, baby!"
Pete watched while the big bastard in the adjoining room shot his load up Lynn's asshole and then tugged his cock slowly out, bringing a little stream of semen with it. The girl was totally limp while he untied her, and he lifted her easily off the roller-mounted table. She sagged back against it to stand there weakly, her mouth open in post-orgasmic gasps, while he dressed, came back-and slapped her face! Then he left.
His head clogged with a multitude of swirling, slightly conflicting thoughts, Pete sat there and gazed at her. His co-worker-his former co-worker-still stood there weakly, although now she had one hand to her slapped cheek.
She liked that, he mused. She loved it all. She didn't even mind that slap! What a parting "kiss" that was! Look at her-she's different from what I thought-and about ten times more into sex!
The woman beside him was gasping, making little gagging noises, and plucking at him. She trembled all over.
Turning to her, he kept one hand in her crotch while he slid the other around her. Then he claimed her mouth with his. Her response was immediate and warm. They sat there and clutched each other, kissing, smooching like teen-agers at the drive-in-with two of his fingers up her juicy quim and another rolling over her clitoris, again and again, over and over the swollen, bristling nubbin of her ecstasy. .
She came, moaning and trembling against him. Her fingers clutched him. Her nails sank into his shirt and dented the flesh beneath. Slowly, she wound down. Her hand eased his away from her sensitized but no longer needy vulva.
"Uh-oh, th-thanks, Pete Cooper! That was really-I really needed that. You're a good man, you are!"
He wiggled his tongue in her ear. "One aims to please," he said, and shifted his hand from her loins up to the swell of her left breast. She pressed it into his fingers.
"What-what can I set up for you, you doll?" she asked.
He rubbed her back, stroked her breast, and muttered it into her ear. "Let me stay here and see she gets set up with another man who wants her in the Chambre de Sade. And-stay here with me."
"Oh, I ca-hm! All right," she said huskily, excitedly, and her hand squeezed the big bulge against his fly. "Umm, wow! Sit tight, don't do anything about that beautiful hard-on, and let me go and see what I can arrange!"
With a last squeeze and a light peck, she dragged herself up, gave him a fond little smile, and hurried from the secret watching room.
Pete sat there with narrowed eyes and gazed through the glass at Lynn. It was strange, watching her this way. She seemed to be returning his gaze. But he knew she wasn't. She was inspecting herself in the mirror. Obviously she had no idea that it was a one-way glass.
He was still gazing at her-Lynn was twisting excitingly around, inspecting her pummeled rump for marks and bruises-when the tall, too-thin usherette came in and handed her a card. Pete saw a little shiver run through his co-worker as she gazed at the card in her hand. It quivered. Meanwhile, the other girl was leaving-meaning Lynn would be staying right where she was! He grinned and hoped Violet showed up soon!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Violet Fletcher came in smiling. "I got Stella to sit in for me at the front desk," she said, sliding in warmly against Pete. "It's her time of month, and she's glad to have something to do."
"Good! Looks like you've got something odd set up for-what's her name?"
She glanced at the one-way window. "Lynn. Oh, yes. THIS will surprise her-and you too!" She snuggled, sliding an arm around his waist, just above his slender and slightly bony hips. "Do you like seeing her tied that way?"
"Sure," he told her, tilting her face his way to give her a kiss. He loved the strange, thick scent of her perfume, and the smell of her breath. There was a light pineapple flavor to her lipstick that was most pleasant, too. There were a number of things about Violet Fletcher he liked, including the extremely soft textures of her breasts beneath his fingers. He regretted having slept so soon and so soundly last night, regretted having spurted three times before he took her home, which had made him only mildly interested in sex with her.
"You sneaky dog," she said, with a little chuckle, "I'll bet you wish that were me in there!"
He thought about that. Finally shook his head. "No. I like you better right here-and with your hands free. What you should be doing with them is taking off your clothes."
"I thought you'd never ask!"
"Fletcher."
"Hmmm?"
"Get nekkid!"
"My pleasure," Fletcher said, and she bounced up, smiled down at him, then turned and went sinuously down into a hunch-broadening squat before him, with her back to him. "Unzip, please?"
He unzipped her, slid his hands into the opened sweater-blouse, and traced out the softness and warmth of her back. His fingers slid over the strap of her brassiere, which was broad, and he paused there. She let him hear a little grunt as he unlatched its triple catch and watched the back elastic of the strap spring apart.
Then she stood, still with her back to him, and let herself sway slightly, enticingly, while she tugged her skirt down her hips until it fluttered to form a little blue puddle around her ankles. He smiled; the mocha-colored half-slip was extremely feminine, bordered with fine-looking lace-and obviously worn over nothing. Hers was a broad-flanged butt, the cheeks long ovals that jiggled and rippled as she moved, without the firmness of youth. She was probably thirty, maybe a little past.
Enjoying the feel of her flesh through sleekly soft nylon, he stroked down her hips and thighs with both hands. She swayed, rubbing his palms with herself. At the same time, she was pulling the sweater-blouse off. He gazed at her back, its bareness broken only by the broad shoulder straps of her bra and, at the sides, the dangling ends of the back strap.
She glanced back at him, over her shoulder. "I'd better tell...."
"The half-slip now," he said, his eyes steady on hers. "Just like this, with your back to me."
She slipped her thumbs inside the waistband and began coaxing it down. More and and more of the deep cleavage and swelling hills beneath her twin rear dimples came into view as she edged the skirt low, deliberately prolonging its removeal. She knew how to strip for a man, and she made the most of it. He smiled at the way her cheeks clutched each other as she denuded them for him. He knew that she was tensing their muscles, making them tighter and rounder for his delectation. Then the half-slip was gone, and the choice flesh of her full, shimmery buttocks was bare to his gaze. It was a large and beautiful ass indeed, and his hands went out to the oval hills. Then his face. She shivered at the pressure of his mouth on each cheek. She moved them, just a little.
"Oh, Pete! You know about women, don't you-you know about this woman!"
"I'm about to know more," he told her, circling her hip with one arm and running his hand over the gentle but convex swell of her belly and into the moss at its base. It was very, very soft.
"Yes, oh, and I started to tell you. A year ago I weighed eighty pounds more than I do right now."
"Eight-good grief! You should've been SHOT! To do that to a body like this!"
"Agreed. I decided that, too, and I went on a godawful diet. Water, all day long. And vitamins-and a lot of trips to the bathroom!"
"I guess!" he said, shaking his head and trying to envision this sexy woman with another eighty pounds on her.
Then she turned, dragging her hip and buttocks through his hands, smiled down at him, and gave her shoulders a little hunch while she leaned toward him. Her bra slid off and acres of soft white flesh came flowing and jiggling out, dangling long before her; tits that were full, and had been even fuller, hung, very fatly rounded at the ends, where dark areolas sprouted paler nipples that seemed to beckon like beacons to attract hands and mouth and tongue.
He learned quickly that those unusual tits were no less exciting for being long, pendant, and marshmallow soft. Grasping them, he lifted their ball-like ends to his face and kissed first one nipple, then the other.
In moments, moaning and sighing, she had reached around her own dangling breasts and opened his pants. Out came his balls and the stiff cock rising magestically from them, looking like a thick reddish spear eager to do battle. She warmed it between her palms, which she began moving around it like an Indian making fire. It worked; he felt the fire flowing into his scrotum, and his hands clamped hard on her breasts. With fingers sinking in, he sucked at her nipples.
She bent lower, lower. He saw her look of sudden surprise and noted her little jerk.
"Oh! That glass is cold!" she grinned.
He chuckled. She came on down, not quite onto her knees, but squatting in front of him. With both her breasts in her own hands, she pressed them around his cock.
"Oh-that feels good," he sighed. "And looks good, Fletcher!"
"You call me Violet," she told him, rubbing his prick between the bloated, dangling tits that hung before her as if they might have belonged to someone else and had been grafted onto her chest, beneath rather slender shoulders. The cleavage between them was very, very warm, and supremely soft.
"Good lord," he said, catching a movement past her shoulder and returning his eyes to the adjoining room-in time to see the entrance of Lynn's next client.
"Otto came in?" Violet asked, smiling up at him and continuing to press and move her pulpy jugs around his tool.
"Yeah!"
"Big muthah, isn't he?"
"Yeah!"
"How does the girl look? Has she seen him?"
"She has. She looks scared. God, he looks like something out of a movie-a karate champ to tangle with James Bond or the head man in the torture chamber of a costume movie. He's undressing now-Jesus, that monster's got shoulders like a Sumo wrestler-and damned near that much belly, too. Odd, though, there's hardly any hair-oh, NO!"
"What, what, what?" Violet was grinning up at him, deliberately not turning to look, loving the description from the man whose lovely pussy-pleaser she was warming within the foam-rubber softness of her tits.
"He-he's got a cock like-like that!" He showed her his middle finger, thumb cutting it off at the inner crease marking the second joint. "Christ-what a-oh, hell, maybe he's one of those guys who grows about ten times when he's hard, huh?"
"Listen, sweetheart-you do," she told him throatily, and made him jerk by planting a kiss on the tip of his glans where it thrust sexily up from the valley of her breasts, tightened around it by her pressing hands.
Pete sat there and stared into the other room.
Lynn had been prepared for this man, this monster Violet called "Otto." Another girl had come and supervised Lynn's donning of shiny black garterbelt, high-rising, figured black hose, and short boots. Then she had bound Lynn to the wall, spread-eagle and practically immobile, with metal clamps on both wrists and both ankles. A leather strap even passed across her waist. She looked beautiful that way, her pale-skinned thighs flowing up out of the dark hose to flank her naked shorn vulva-the lips of which were forced slightly ajar by the widespread position of her manacled feet. Her breasts were lifted high and thrusty with her arms drawn straight out to either side of her, and her blonde hair had been arranged to trickle down in front, over her uplifted shoulders.
She had had quite a wait, time to work up plenty of apprehension. Now she looked honestly terrified as the thick, flabby, huge man named Otto stood before her, smiling and watching her while he stripped off every stitch of his clothing.
He moved forward, then, and Pete Ryan began to have thoughts about banging on the glass, or squirming out of Violet's titsy embrace and galloping out and around and into the other room. He couldn't sit here and watch Lynn half-killed by a bullet-headed guy as big as that Bond villain, Goldfinger's employee Oddjob!
In the Chambre de Sade, Lynn was also having second thoughts. She was totally helpless. She had been ordered to say nothing to this client, this Otto. But she wanted to-she wanted to plead!
Her skin flinched and rippled, trying to escape, as he began running his hands hungrily over her.
"Oh, you're so beautiful," he told her, in a rather high voice, a decidedly strange voice, to be issuing from such a mountain of a man! "So soft, soft, like silk in my hands. And those beautiful, beautiful bosoms-oh, you are just beautiful!" His hands stroked lower. "Such a sweet slender waist-these lovely, womanly hips-and ah, ah, what a beautiful little slitty-so delicate and tender and sweet, so pink and all puckered, without any hair to mar it or cover it up."
Bosoms? The bound girl thought, astonished but too nervous to be amused. Slitty? I wonder what he calls that pint-size excrescence between his legs-a tinkler?
Then she quivered under an involuntary-tremor, and pressed back, inadvertently crushing her bare bottom against the chilly wall, for he was stroking his big pudgy-and soft, strangely soft-hands over her naked and defenseless vulva.
It felt so good, so good-if only I could let go and just enjoy, she thought sadly, just groove on it. It's just lovely and his hands are so shockingly soft!
"Oh, oh, it's so nice, so soft," he was muttering, sliding his hands all over her child-smooth pussy-bulge and sliding a knuckle gently up and down between the pursed lips. "So-soft-so swee-eet-I want-I have to-to-kiss it!" He was sinking to his knees before her.
Then he was kissing, and kissing, and kissing more, all over her quivering inner thighs and into the creases where they joined her slitted torso, all over the juicily rounded thrust of her pubis, soft and pink and yielding beneath his lips. She sighed, shuddered-then groaned when she felt his tongue sliding up and down, up and down the long chink. She knew the lips were open, knew they were parting even more now, helplessly responding to his marvelous oral loving. A ball of warmth materialized in her belly and her entire organism began twitching and warming as his tongue and grazing lips sent heated thrills flicking through her cunt and up into her belly. It began thrusting in and out, with her agitated breathing, hard and fast against the leather strap.
His tongue slid between the soft fluted lips, making her sigh, then gasp. Lustful pleasure flared hot and hard in her and she moved her hips in little squirming motions.
"Umm, and so juicy," he crooned, beginning to taste the savory cream that flowed forth from her feverish passage. He lapped it up and sent his long tongue slithering in search of more.
Her muscles twitching in exquisite delight, Lynn flinched and groaned and gasped out sobbing sounds. It was too marvelous. She felt that her swelling tits were going to burst, that the engorged nipples would pop open, that her thrill-laden belly must pop just to release the inner pressure. His mouth and tongue and what he did with them were even softer, gender, erotically nicer than the lesbian's had been last night! He was licking and sucking her fevered cunt as though it were his one delight in life, as though he were orally, lingually in love with cunt and its warm sticky juices. And her body manufactured and released more and more of that fluid, excited beyond the bounds of description.
"God-damn!" Pete Ryan exclaimed softly. "Fantastic! He's not doing a thing to her!"
Violet Fletcher glanced up from her preoccupation with his cock "Wha-aat?"
He grinned. "He isn't hurting her or treating her like a victim, I mean. Just-just eating her like a starving man with a prescription for a thousand cc's of pussy juice!"
The kneeling redhead shivered, released her breasts to let them collapse away from his spearing penis, and bent her head to slide her mouth down over the plumshape of its tip.
"Uh!" he gasped, dropping his eyes to see her face accepting and enfolding that purple-arteried, blue-veined, and redheaded staff in the yielding warmth and salivary moistness of her mouth.
Her lips were tightly pressed all around the thickened horn as it sank and sank into her face, far down past the mid-point of his prick. She began sucking hard on his cock with a greedy, gluttonous mouth. Assailed by coiling tentacles of inner arousal, he stared down at her, at her willingly sucking mouth giving its breathless devotion to his bloated male meat. She began to bob her head over his crotch, stabbing her face with the long thick poker of his penis.
On the other side of the one-way, soundproof glass, Lynn's sensations were similar to Pete's. The kneeling man was licking her, sucking her, tongue-fucking her. Juices seemed to boil and bubble in the frothing oozing depths of her open cunt. All of it built in her to a raging fire of unfulfilled lust. She sucked up a deep breath and held it, trembling on the brink of final ecstasy. Then it happened.
A series of violent spasms in her creaming cunt announced her arrival at the peak. The wonderful man had caused her to ascend the awesome heights of lust and satiation at last. She jerked, and her body squirmed in a furious twisting as her passion throbbed through her and out of her.
And as she came, so did her cunnilinguist. From the thumb-sized excrescence of Otto's little prick jetted a thick spurt of semen, a gobbet that zoomed between her widely parted legs and struck the wall behind her with an audible smack. Another followed. And a third, which arched to splash on the floor. And a fourth ejaculatory spurt, and a fifth, this one landing on the floor only a few inches before him. The final drops of his thick cream dribbled on the floor directly beneath his pitiable little penis. He continued to kneel there, breathing hard-she felt the little rushes of air over the outer surfaces of her sensitized, still contracting vagina-and sagging loosely, for several minutes.
Then, embarrassedly, without looking at her, the huge man got to his feet and began to dress. Lynn stared at him. But he never returned her wide-eyed, grateful gaze. He went hurriedly to the door, paused with his fingers on the handle.
"You're beautiful," he told her in a subdued voice. "I love you." And then he hurriedly left.
Lynn stood there, still shackled to the wall. Her breasts still rose and fell shakily, for her breathing had not returned to normal after her violent orgasm.
"God," she muttered aloud, staring at nothing, "why should a man like that have to PAY!"
On the other side of the one-way mirror, Pete saw her lips move, caught several words and guessed the rest. But he did not quite grin; his face had become a mask of almost pained rapture as he pumped his seed down Violet's gulping throat.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lynn was made very happy by the guy who came in, treated her respectfully, almost deferentially, necked and fondled like a kid in his first experimental seduction of a girl, and then screwed her slowly and carefully, in the time-honored position variously known as Missionary or Beast-with-two-Backs.
With Violet, she then watched Pete Ryan with a pretty teen-age girl, not knowing that her co-worker had very recently watched her-and emptied his balls into the mouth and down the gullet of the redhead seated beside her before the one-way window!
Pete's roughness astonished Lynn. She licked her lips, and she bit them. She played idly with her own breasts, palming and tweaking them.
She watched Pete spank the pretty young girl, and she watched the rounded buttocks warm up to a high glow. Watching the girl squirm and shiver and wiggle across the seated man's knees, Lynn too squirmed and shuddered. She opened her legs willingly when Fletcher reached over and began to fondle her unpantied pussy.
Next, with heaving breasts and flaring nostrils, Lynn watched the teener grovel and actually crawl about the floor while Pete used a whip on her. What's got into him? Lynn thought. With each new lash Pete directed onto the quivering mounds of that teen-age rump, a thrill tore through Lynn like a lightning bolt-or as if she had touched a hot wire.
What, she thought, has got into ME?
She was sure the sobbing girl's bottom was a humid, steaming morass of welt-streaked pain when Pete at last tossed aside the whip and reached down to drag his naked teen partner to her feet. He then turned her to face him and pulled her to him. With his hands cupping her whip-darkened asscheeks, he kissed and kissed the girl until she was clutching at him, thumping her body at his, and seemingly trying to climb his legs.
Then he ordered her to keep her hands behind her. She put them right back and jutted the pointy cones of her tits at him. Lynn sat there and shuddered, while she watched a man she had thought she knew really mauling and biting the teen-ager's youthfully firm, jaunty little jugs. Lynn's legs eased wider and wider apart, and Violet Fletcher leaned into her work. Her fingertips stroked and soothed the blonde's shaved pussy, occasionally running into the hot wet crease to emerge with more juices to lubricate the knobby clitoris she manipulated.
Now Lynn watched while the nameless naked young girl in the adjoining room slid to her knees and grasped Pete's cock and balls in both hands. She pushed the long thick shaft straight into her mouth, without preliminary. Lynn trembled, wondering how it felt for a man to have his prick warmly, clutchingly ensheathed, as the girl slid her plump pink lips up and down the thick, glistening shaft.
The kneeling girl's cheeks were bloated and her eyes were half shut. His bulbous, rock-hard, phallic shaft totally filled the humid, elastic sheath of her face. She had a face stuffed very full of cock. He wagged his hips, making the big crown of it slither around over her teeth and tongue and the slippery insides of her mouth. Lynn could see it, actually see its rounded pressure when the glans shoved out the taut-stretched plane of the girl's cheeks. Well over half of that long thick pole had vanished into the clinging oval of her soft pink lips.
She sucked. He trembled at the feel of that powerful suction on the end of his semen-spurter. She sucked harder. She began moving her head up and down.
Like Pete, Lynn Berkley was trembling violently. Jerking and thrusting Violet's hand away from her loins, she swiftly thrust three of her own fingers up into herself. She hunched, groaning softly, with her eyes fixed on the scene in the adjoining room.
Then she groaned loudly and lurched hard when she saw Pete pull the girl to her feet, turn her around, "push her forward over an ottoman, and thrust his hugely-swollen masculine wand up her back. The thick shaft cleft the perfect roundness of her rump, forced open its dainty little exit-turning it into an entrance-and in seconds his hips were crushing into her buttocks. She was wearing every inch of his cock, all the way up inside her anal furrow. Her mouth and eyes both were wide, and she was squirming like an impaled eel. Lynn knew that she was crying out in pain-and she knew, too, that the pain would not last long.
As for Lynn herself, she had three fingers inside herself and was bouncing wildly up and down.
Lynn nodded with hair-flying vehemence. "Yes! Yes! I've turned on all right-and I want to stay, too! But right now I...."
"Stay? You mean you didn't think you were signing on permanently when you first came in, yesterday?"
Lynn's face streamed perspiration. Her eyes were fixed on the man hunching up the ass of the girl in the next room. "Hell, no-I was just...." She only just remembered herself in time. Her mind was reeling, wavering, and refusing to function properly in its delirium of lust. " ... going to sort of try it out!" she finished.
"But now you're sure!"
"YOU'RE TEASING ME, FLETCHER! I can't look-I can't STOP looking! I need a man-I need cock! Yes, yes! I'm sure, dammit!"
"You shake me up, Lynn. I thought you were really serious when you showed up yesterday. Our personnel are under contract. And suddenly I'll be damned if I'll put you ahead of the regulars, the serious devotees among us, when you've only been...."
"Then give me a contract!" Lynn interrupted in a sob-shaking wail.
In short order, she was bending over the her twitching fingers and quivering arm enough to affix her signature to the bottom line of a contract headed The Palace of Venus.
"I-I-the one thing I want to be sure of is that I'm exempt from severe discipline. I mean-I'm not a masochist, you know." She glanced around. Crazy place to be doing business!
"Just severe?" Fletcher asked. "Mild is all right, eh? The spanking, the binding-what about Zane?"
Lynn trembled. Zane. She chewed her lip. But-boy, did I make it with that wild dude! "W-well, that was-that would be all right...."
Lynn watched while Fletcher made a slight adjustment to the sheet of printed paper. She was still twitching all over, her body assailed with the memory of what she'd watched Pete doing with the teen-ager, and assailed, too, by sharp hot tingles of needful lust. She felt hot, hot all over, terribly hot in the loins and bottom, and without even thinking about it she parted her skirt in back, to get a bit of air on her rump. It was strange; it was as warm as though she had shared the Whipping Pete had administered to his juvenile partner-but she certainly hadn't! As a matter-of-fact-as a matter-of-fact-she could use a little attention to her tail!
With a shaking hand, she signed.
Instantly powerful hands seized her arms from behind and she cried out at the sudden introduction of a violently erect cock between her buttocks. The hot little hole between them got a lot hotter. Twisting, groaning, she managed to glance back to see that her rump-rapist was the smallish man called Joe, who had so coolly screwed her as part of her pre-employment interview yesterday-yesterday! It seemed months ago!
"Ah, ah, ahhnnghhhh!" she groaned, as what felt like a yard or so of thick cock pulsed madly and hotly up her anal channel. Moving involuntarily forward to get away from the burning pressure, she groaned again when she rammed her naked mons veneris into the edge of the desk. Behind her, Joe hung on, and urged his body forward against her back. Then he released her arms, and she fell forward over the desk.
Gasping and beginning to feel a renewed heat-noticing, without being aware that she was moving, that her hips were beginning to sway-she planted her palms on the desk top and elevated her face a little. He ground in, and in, and she began undulating her bowed body, making her tits bounce and her buttocks slither sensuously over his crotch.
She moaned and wiggled in a surrender to her erotic nature and to libidinous rapture, her head buried between her arms and her hips wagging to caress his huge dork within the marvelous hole she provided for him. He ground hard to imbed another inch of solid flesh up her ass.
"Oh," she groaned, a passionate, throaty sound. "Oh, ohh-oh, Joe-that's it-that's-UH!-i-i-iiitttt-fuck ohyesfuck-fuck-my-asssssss!"
"Pleasure, babydoll," he muttered, with his mouth close to her ear. And he threw her a swift series of fanny-flattening hunches that made her moan and shiver in voluptuous joy.
Then he was crushing his body against hers from behind, wrapping his arms around her, gripping her tightly-and lifting her!
"Ngahh!" she groaned, as her feet left the floor completely and the arms wrapped around her crushed up into the soft bases of her breasts-and she found herself hovering in air, riding a torrid bar of hardened flesh that was crammed as far up inside her sweltering rectal hole as it could possibly go. She felt an inward pressure, against her intestines....
Then he was grunting in her ear, backing up and swinging her away from the desk, moving unsteadily with her held before him, legs dangling as she rode his cock. Then he was backing again, and they groaned in unison when he backed up to the desk, rose on tiptoe, and sat. His arms hurt as he forced himself backward, backward-and she stared as Fletcher approached her, grinning, and holding in her hand-a fat dildo covered with some kind of French Tickler rubber, a thin sheet of plastic with knobby little eruptions all over it.
"No, wait-wait, Fletcherrrrrrr!" Lynn cried.
But Fletcher couldn't be bothered to wait. She slipped the hard rubber dildo into the girl's moist red vaginal slit and Lynn squealed. She spread her legs even wider, feeling the little bumps rub over the inner surfaces of hex-labia, and with a lecherous smile Fletcher crammed it as far up the girl's slippery pussy as it would go.
"Agh-wow!" Joe groaned in her ear. "I can FEEL that thing, against my cock!"
"Your cock's not in here!" Fletcher snapped, jiggling the dildo inside the other woman.
"Yeah-uh, ow-wow! Yeah, but there's only a piece of skin between that thing and my prick, Fletch!"
"G-god," Lynn groaned, shivering violently and starting to stream perspiration, "don't I know it!"
Fletcher looked into her eyes. "Grab hold of it, Lynn."
"Uh-uh-uh-if I d-do-o-o," the girl gasped, "I'll tear it out of there!"
"Like this?" Fletcher whipped the dildo nearly all the way out, stretching out the lips of the blonde's hairless vulva. Then she thrust it in again until Lynn squealed, feeling its rounded tip thump her cervix.
"Gahhhh! Oh, oh, god, that's GOOD!" And Lynn grabbed the end of the dildo just as Fletcher released it. She began thrusting it in and out of herself while Joe sat there on the desk with her riding his penis-and felt the inner friction against the super-sensitive underside of his shaft from the plastic prick!
He and she began groaning constantly, almost in unison. He didn't even have to move. The heat and constriction of her anus and rectal tunnel was a firm hot pressure all around his swollen whang, and now the dildo was sliding up and down it. He was going to make it, he knew, sperm off up this doll's ass without moving a muscle!
Smiling, Fletcher left the room.
She began peeling off her clothing even as she walked down that inner corridor that led to the observation rooms set behind one-way windows. But the room she entered, stripped already to panties, garterbelt, stockings and shoes, was a quite different one. It was another of the luxurious bedrooms of the Palaoe of Venus, but a special one, more luxurious, equipped with a bigger bed with a wraparound headboard on one side. In its top were set a double row of buttons, along with three dials.
They controlled the establishment's closed-circuit television system.
On the bed lay a man in a red silk smoking jacket or short robe. He was hairy, only slightly paunchy-unusual, since he appeared to be around fifty-and wore nothing else but a thick coating of hair on his chest, down his belly in a thumb-wide line, all around his crotch, and all over his legs. The hair of his head was black, about half gray; that of his body contained only a few of the gray strands. Beside him, on the telecontrol panel, rested a large snifter with a few sips in it, and beside it a bottle of Remy Martin V.S.O.P., just over half full. Also on the panel were a gleaming steel ashtray and a small, slender box nearly a foot long-the container for the Bering cigar jutting from his mouth at an arrogant angle.
He waved a hand as Violet Fletcher entered.
"Hello, Fletch-nice show you arranged. She's really grooving on all of it, huh?" He gestured at the wallscreen. "That Lynn Berkley cunt."
Violet nodded. Her long, pendant breasts swung beneath her as she skinned down her pants. "Yes, sir," she told her boss. "She's crazy about-everything!"
"Good, good, I thought so, certainly thought so! I like the looks of that shaved pussy on her, too, Fletch! Here-pop over here and give me a suck while I watch her fuck herself with that charming dildo. I'll want that later myself-I think it'll be fun to wedge that thing up your ass while I cram a cock up you from the other direction."
Shivering in reaction to his intensely erotic, thoroughly lascivious, and slightly scary words, Violet nodded and mounted the bed. "Yes, sir," she said as she got herself between his hairy, outstretched legs. "Whatever you say."
He reached out to swat her shoulder with a rough fondness and a completely proprietary air. "Damn right! Plenty of advantages to being the owner of this place-ayid to having a hot-cunted brain like you doing most of the running of it for me! Uh!"
On screen, Lynn Berkley was writhing in a sweating, contorted-face orgasm. Her breasts were two-thirds out of sight in Joe's clenching hands. He was bobbing her up and down, now, and the slimily shiny dildo was oozing out of her quaking vaginal gap.
On the bed, Fletcher was tongue-stroking the full pulsing shaft of her boss's cock while she nibbled delicately at it. Then she slipped her rounding lips over the big glans, grasped his balls, and sucked hard in long, slow, up-and-down glides. Her lips clung hungrily to his hot, hardened meat.
Shivering beneath her expertise, he reached over and turned the little dial marked "Vol" and listened to the voices of his employee Joe and his employee Lynn. Having come up her ass like a bull, Joe had now dumped her on her back on the table and was fastening her thighs to it.
"We know who you are, you see," Joe was telling the girl. "It will doubtless interest you to know why no one ever talks about our place here, including you and the other assistant to Congressman Wallace, Pete Ryan-Miss Berkley!"
Then Lynn, with her thighs fastened to the table top and her ankles to its legs, sat there naked on the table and stared-while Joe ran films. They were of the previous evening, in the Palace of Venus, and they starred-Lynn Berkley.
"Well?" Joe asked, grinning at her and reaching over to tweak one pretty pink nipple.
The girl on the screen in the owner's "office" heaved a great sigh that made her tight tits jump beautifully up and down. Smiling, he reached down to press one hand atop Fletcher's head, forcing her down until her nose was pressed into his thick pubic hair and she was making thick gagging noises.
"Well, hell," Lynn Berkley said. "I-did sign the contract-and I meant it! Hey wait-Joe! Where're you going? Are you just going to leave me shackled here like this? I'm helpless, dammit!"
"Yeah," Joe called as he left the dungeon-like room, "the new manager wants to see you."
"N-new manager?" Lynn asked, her eyes widening.
The unseen watcher sprawled on his bed released Violet Fletcher's head and stroked her cheek.
"A nice job all around, Fletch, I'm thinking," he said. "I knew that Ryan boy had talent when I first hired him. It was easy to find out that he and Lynn were sleeping together on a pretty steady basis-but that he was also hacking a few other chicks, here and there, all over Washington. A smart stud. And she's proven herself a super-sexy young lady here, hasn't she!"
Fletcher eased off her cock-sucking long enough to look at him with twinkling eyes and say, "Lady?"
He chuckled. "God save us all from ladies-and nuts who want to close up places like this! Now shut up, Fletch, and suck that bone while I watch Miss Berkley meet the new manager of the Palace of Venus."
Fletcher sighed and smiled, using her nails to scrape his hairy, swollen balls, lightly. "Yassuh, Mister Congressman Wallace, suh!" she smiled, and she ran her mouth down the long fat shank of his penis again.
Smiling, reaching for his brandy, the Congressman leaned comfortably back and watched the expression on the shackled Lynn Berkley's face when the door to the Chambre de Sade opened and Pete Ryan walked in.
"PETE!" Lynn cried.
"Hullo, honey," Pete said cheerily, picking up a whip.
