With a huge cat's grace and sure body movements, she weaved toward him, almost drunkenly, intoxicated with her own sexual powers. Her toes pushed provocatively into the shag rug, cutting a sensual path for her as she slithered up in front of him, her shapely leg muscles rippling deliciously hard against her skin, her tits swaying freely.
Quickly, he freed his cock. It flared red and hard before him, drawing her attention.
She smacked her lips.
"Hey, honey-" she purred, "you like your sex straight-or kinky?"
CHAPTER ONE
"You're a tease!" Bunny squealed.
As she watched, her pastel blue eyes widening, he pulled the already taut foreskin of his cock even tauter. Its huge purple-red head quivered hugely before him, poking regally from his boxers.
"Now you can kiss," he said evenly.
Drool escaped from the edges of her rich, wide lips, frosted with a light, almost silvery lipstick, as she puckered. Her pink tongue darted forth as she got to her knees.
Slowly, teasing him now, she inched her tongue's juicy tip toward his cock's massive, throbbing head. Touchdown. So soft and tantalizing he almost erupted.
Smiling, she began running her deliriously versatile, velvety brush around the glossy, swollen cockhead, as polished as a mirror, until she was roaming its tough, sharp corona, while her hands held his huge, sweaty balls in her softness as if they were a rare brandy sniffer.
The oval of her evenly textured tan face, not beautiful but sensuous, fascinated him. Long, blond hair, thick and glossy, framed it, hair that now fell in sexy forks over her luscious tits, shaped like party cakes, with a delightful cherry-sized nipple in the center of each. As she sucked, waves of pleasure flowed across that blond face, increasing its sensuousness.
"You really love cock, don't you?" he asked.
She smiled, slurping free.
"You're colossal, Mike. I love a fat cock that fills my mouth."
Like an orphan, his cock vibrated its mushroomed head in the air between them, demanding attention. From its peep window oozed a stream of transparent lubricant.
Returning to her pleasure, Bunny closed her eyes in ecstasy as she rolled her soft, pliant tongue up and down the backside of his turgid projectile, coating it with the juices of her lovely mouth.
As she ascended and descended its hard, pulsating surface, savoring each lap, he ran his greedy eyes from her upturned, passionate face down her shapely body. She'd pulled her lovely, tanned legs under her so that the satiny and smooth thighs almost kissed. Her body was so positioned that she could use it as a spring to keep her mouth fastened to the cock she was enjoying whenever he made small changes in his own position.
A flesh-toned string, so tight it pinched her skin, formed a shiny triangle over her protuberant cunt, as perfectly and beautifully shaped as a mouth turned sideways, her dark pubic hair pressed flat by the fabric. A faint wet trace of her own excitement lay across the nylon string.
Sighs of pleasure escaped from her.
Without warning, she changed her method, loving the passion she triggered when she suddenly started using her tongue as a miniature whip.
Striking soft, exquisitely arousing strokes back and forth across the broad underside of his hot dork, she licked from its base to its proud head. She whipped it, her tongue tightened into a point that delivered lashes of rapturous delight.
His whole pelvic region seemed to freeze in ecstasy as she pecked and sucked and licked and lashed the length of his rigid cock, so red it seemed to have fire in its stem.
As her golden hair fanned around his gluttonous, red cock, she bore down, sucking with focus, in great sweeps, so rapid he saw her mouth as a blur. Her hair seemed to spin in a fantastically beautiful golden web before him, as she rapidly fell upon his thick spike with her opened warm flower of a mouth, as quickly to rise, leaving his stiff crimson rod throbbing violently in the air.
Still teasing. Christ, she knows her stuff!
As he stared in utter fascination, she now settled into a rhythmic sucking that put her entire mouth over his cock on her downward plunges, adroitly accommodating its tremendous length and girth.
The rim of Bunny's lovely, red mouth closed around his mammoth organ as tightly as a Mason jar rubber. That excited him. It also excited him to see her pale blue eyes light up with lust as they climbed the length of his cock. The view of her succulent maw closing wetly around his thickness sent tingles up his loins.
Her string was becoming wetter, so wet that her nest of black cunt hairs shone through the thin nylon. She'd pulled her body higher so that her midriff was straighter, her lovely little ribs tightly drawn against her sun-burnished skin. Her tits, fruit-like and hard, seemed to push up on individual springs, each a tasty mouthful.
Slurping back to his knobby cockhead, she began to gyrate, twisting wetly on its humid surface. Faster she revolved around its shiny cap. His body began to respond wildly. He pushed his cock higher, wanting the lushness of her mouth to envelop his head, but each time he poked it forward she withdrew, sucking only when and how she preferred. That really turned him on.
"Jeeeeeeesus?!" he shouted. "Jeeeeeeesus!" She slurped free. "Don't stop!" he ordered.
But she rose, sliding her feet into glossy, sexy black heels, while he whipped his cock, answering its growing need.
With her back to him, she started across his living room's white shag rug, brazenly bouncing her ass, on rippling muscles. Dimpled craters of flesh popped open in her buttocks as she walked, advertising her beautiful backend. Her supple spine, faint beneath her tan skin, shifted tantalizingly, coiling like some exotic snake.
From the back her legs were even smoother and more appetizing, long and svelte, descending nudely and sensuously into those shiny high heels. He'd always been a backview man anyway, and she completely satisfied his taste.
For a moment he felt as if he were in the Midnight Blues nightclub and she was doing her act. The Oklahoma Twister-that's what they called Bunny. Bunny Barlow. Was it only two weeks ago that he'd met her while doing some routine investigative work for her boss, Tony Mazzolli? Jesus, it seemed he'd known her a lifetime, ridden the curves of her body so many times they were as familiar as the streets around his office.
"Come into the bedroom and come in me!" she said without turning.
My god, can I hold it?
Calling up all his will power, he drew his hand from his cock and iollowed her, as if in a trance, his hard, crimson cock a flag bearer before him. When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway to gloat over the sight before him, that gorgeous bundle in the center of his Hollywood bed.
Against the expensive black sheet, a night sky, she seemed like some exquisite star. The sheet perfectly defined the beauty of her body. She lay back, her body just tense enough to make its shapely fines firm and appealing. She'd crossed her legs and moistened her lips.
It'll be a joy to shoot in her and then spray my wad on that fancy sheet!
As he approached, she rolled over in the bed enticingly, popping up her hard, round rump. She wiggled it as she splayed apart her lovely long legs, shaplier because they were still in the heels. The nylon string stretched until it seemed about to snap as she wiggled her butt, but served its purpose, acting as a border around that luscious expanse of flesh. Each buttock tucked in, leaving a shadowline between mound and leg. Little craters of flesh appeared and disappeared as she flexed her muscles, beckoning him. It was an ass that would bounce pecker, pillowing each outrageous demand placed upon it.
"I want you to dog-fuck me!" she said.
I've got my own plans, baby. I'm the gamesmaster.
He flicked on all the lights, even the concealed ones along the border around the mirrored ceiling. Glancing up, he leered at the reflection of her voluptuous body in the ceiling.
When his body pressed onto the bed, she jerked up her head, flaring blond swathes, and turned it to train on his prick.
"Damn, you've grown another inch!" she squealed admiringly. "That's one hell of a pickle ... ugh ... hey, what're you doing? That hurt!"
With his right hand he snapped the flesh-toned nylon string loose from her body. He dangled it in his hand for a moment, looking at it curiously. It had served him well, adding fuel to his passion. He threw it onto the carpeting.
With his hands he spread her ass even wider, until the pink bud of her anus was visible. Beyond, veiling the sharp profile of her cunt, was an overhang of pubic hair. A warm nest.
Crudely, he ran his forefinger forward, sending it up the small dry backhole.
She shrieked.
"Take it easy!" she cried.
He withdrew his finger in a long, easy slide and stroked it into her cunt, as wet as an oasis, a dripping pussy, and liberally doused it. Next he scissored in two fingers and juiced them up.
With her dewy lubricant coating his fingers, he drove them up her anus. She wiggled but didn't cry out. Using his fingers like a corkscrew he loosened her up with her own juice. She loved it. It really turned her on.
Making a nuisance of itself, his cock throbbed, racing hard with blood, aching for her, but he knew he'd need to work her hole bigger before he entered her. Otherwise, he'd tear the hell out of her. He was too big to go into a half-dry hole. Besides, he didn't want to hurt her; he only wanted to play the game his way.
Getting hot, she began to lurch up and down on his fingers. But he wanted cock in her, not fingers, and his cock was a hell of a lot more than his fingers.
He withdrew them. She cursed.
Once more he bathed his fingers in the flow of her cunt, reaming it hard at the same time. He added a third finger. He drenched them in pussy nectar.
Then he sent his probing fingers, shallacked with cunt juice, back up her butt's pink hole. This time he burrowed deeper and twisted, enlarging her hole considerably as she kneaded her buttocks against his wrist.
"Dog fuck me!" she pleaded. "My cunt's sizzling hot, Mike. Please!"
But he cut off her words when he sent his thick, fat, hard sausage between her lovely, tan buttocks, dimpled even now, into that virgin-like hole that he'd only partially opened.
Plugging it with delight, welcoming tight holes, his cock hardened more as he inched it in. "That hurts!" she protested. "It'll get better," he said.
More of his long, thick pole plunged into her, dry and quivery. Suddenly he struck nerves and she squirmed. Her cheeks clamped hard, touching his cock and she started to buck under him, actually trying to pull in more cock.
He obliged her.
Their hot flesh ground together as he rammed more dick into her clinging anal slot. He kept it in, pumping methodically in short jabs as her pleasure mounted.
Her ass still sassed him with its pillowy undulations. He shoved harder, sending her into a convulsion of ecstasy as he split wide that brown crack. Her buttocks bobbed like jelly.
As his cock speared into her, his loins slapped hard against her buttocks. The harder he ass-fucked her the louder the slaps against her buttocks. They became shiny with perspiration and the slaps became sharper, with a faintly wet ring. Again and again he drove his hard tool deep into her bouncy ass. It swallowed his cock and swabbed it with a jelly-hard pressure.
"Oh, I love it now," Bunny gasped. "I love it. Keep it up."
"I told you so, Bunny," he said. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
A long, guttural groan, hurled from deep inside her, surfaced as he directed his high-riding cock to its hilt, driving to the very bottom of her pit, between those naked tan buttocks. He nailed her to the black sheet, her body mashed against the mattress. She was his.
To keep from emptying his surging seed into her, he frantically sought to cool his lust. He used an old trick, thinking of something else, something remote from sex. He visualized the cool green surface of Lake Sligo, where he sometimes fished on a lazy weekday afternoon. Boats far out in the lake. The old wharf.
"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked.
"I just want to prolong it," he said, regaining his rhythm but using a shorter, slower stroke that would serve his purpose.
Knowing she was split apart, divided into two parts by his hard, thick root, pleased him. But then she enjoyed a triumph of her own. She'd managed to swallow between those curvaceous buttocks an extremely long, very thick rod of cock.
As he fucked her ass, his eyes raked appreciatively up her shiny, tanned body. Firm and hard, yet supple and yielding. Her copper tan and blond hair gave her a fit, Nordic look.
After ten minutes of prolonged pleasure, he eased back, slowly drawing his cock from her. Watching his glistening red stalk emerge from her filled him with pride. He stopped as her body shivered in the pain of withdrawal, while two inches still remained lodged in her. The hard, fleshy ring of her puckered anus spread around his thick shaft's glans just enough to cover it in wet warmth.
"What does Bunny want more than any other thing in this world?" he asked.
This game always got predictable results.
"Bunny wants that lovely ... long ... red poker all the way up her gorgeous ass!" she panted.
She does like it! I thought she would. She doesn't really care whether ifs her ass that's filled or her cunt.
Exultantly, he rode back into her, so hard he became momentarily dizzy. But her firm body cushioned his brutal re-entry. Raising her sweet bottom, wiggling it, she met his thrusts as they landed.
With wanton caresses she coiled her no-longer-tight hole around his hard mate as it plunged into her. Her snatch dripped from the excitement, and her body exuded a thick, sensuous female scent.
He gripped her hips, pulling her flushed, tanned ass cheeks back as well, to meet the hard spear that was tearing into her.
On each thrust his ever-stiffening cock slid solidly into the dark, deep cleft between those lovely, jutting mounds and plowed the soft flesh of her anus.
With inspired counter-thrusts she sucked in his cock, opening wide for him. Her luscious tits pummeled into the black sheet from the force of his attack.
She became so excited she began to do all the work, literally throwing her ass upward for his hot cock time after time, trying each time to subdue it but failing. Having failed, she increased her tempo.
Her neglected vagina poured forth its nectar as her long clit, out of its protective hood, rubbed against the pillow he'd propped beneath her body. She was being aroused front and back.
Her whole body became a bonfire of greedy, gutter-level need. A great wave of wanting-to-come spread throughout her, as the boiling hot bludgeon poked in and out of her ass.
Her motor started to run down, but his body had rested. Now he was ready for a super charge. Ruthlessly he drove up her ass his long, fat dork, as yet un-sated, knowing she loved the impact of his pounding penis.
She whimpered, wanting to come, yet wanting to take his dick and wring it dry. With all her concentration, she focused on satisfying that craven pecker which had humiliated her by its seemingly eternal rock hardness.
He bore in, only to jerk back and cram even more lusty meat into her spongy hole, spurred on by her grunts and gasps and her own frantic efforts toward deliverance. The hole was huge now, a well-worked velvety tunnel.
Sweat ran from under his arms as he housed his thick stalk to its base, eliciting a loud groan, and ground it around until her ass shook like gelatin.
"I'm coming!" she shouted. "Keep it up."
Tremors raced from her body to his, as she writhed beneath him. The humid fit of her hole, the heat of it, and the supremely satisfying vibrations began to churn up his come. He could feel it boiling in his scrotum.
Paying no attention to her frenzy, he proceeded to satisfy himself, riding hard on her perky young ass, sinking hot cock up her with slick, hard strokes.
She exploded under him, calling his name, shouting obscenities, asking for more as she reached orgasm, a frenzied victim of his pounding.
A hot finger of pleasure shot from him, a thick liquid finger going far up her. Then more bolts of his white lightning streaked up her shivering hole.
She lay limp now, exhausted from his assault. Slowly, he pulled out his huge cock. It was so excited it was still hard as he sprinkled its cream over her red-tan hillocks. Then he rubbed the smooth cream into her soft ass mounds, liking the abstract art he created, swirls of thick white across a field of tan, reddened by cock and loins. Some of the sperm even spilled onto the black sheet, smearing it with his mark.
"Devastating, Mike," she said in a whisper. "You're devastating."
He rolled over on his back, looking up into the mirrored ceiling to view his own flushed face wearing a silly, pleased look. His cock, still high, was slowly, very slowly becoming smaller.
She reached to kiss it In the mirror he saw only a cloak of gorgeous blond hair spreading around it. It started hardening, briskly.
It was then that the apartment doorbell sounded.
"Damn!" she said. "I'll get it."
"Don't bother," he said. I'm having too much fun."
"It might be important, Mike," she said. "I'd better go." She climbed out of bed.
"Then you'd better put on a robe."
"Oh!" she squealed, blushing.
As Bunny slipped her lovely body into one of his robes, a silk one with a diamond pattern, she smiled. "Suppose it's one of your girl friends."
"Then invite her in," he said, straightening up in bed, propping a fat pillow behind him, "and we'll have a three-way party."
"You serious?" she said, arching her eyebrows.
"Sure."
The doorbell sounded again, and she hurried out of the room. He heard the clip, clop of her sandals in the hall and then mumbled words.
Mike reached for his Winstons and lit one. He inhaled the smoke deeply, letting it finger his lungs. First cigarette in hours. It tasted great. By limiting himself to ten a day, he was enjoying them more. Maybe adding a few hours to his life, too.
He stretched out his hairy legs and clasped his hands behind his head. Sex always relaxed him. A smoke helped too.
He wasn't prepared for the puzzled look on Bunny's face when she appeared in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"There's a man to see you," she said, her voice low. "A strange one."
"A client?" he asked. "I ... I guess so."
"I'll be out in five minutes," he said, getting out of bed. "Tell him to make himself comfortable. Fix him a drink, Bunny."
She hesitated. "But...."
"Well ... hurry along."
"But he looks like a warlock!" she said. "Or a direct descendant of Count Dracula."
"Then fix him a bloody Mary!" he snapped, smiling.
Quickly he dressed, putting on brown slacks and a short sleeved shirt and slipping his feet into comfortable Italian sandals. His curiosity had been aroused.
When he reached the living room, he did a doubletake. Bunny hadn't exaggerated much. The visitor, a tall, thin man, was nervously pacing the room. He was so tall he towered over the furniture. His complexion was almost chalky and his eyes sunken. Bushy black eyebrows and a Salvador Dali mustache gave his face a harsh, fierce look, accented by his sharp nose and pointed chin. He wore a tux and about his shoulders was draped a black cape lined with red silk. In his hand he was holding a half finished drink which Mike figured had been supplied by Bunny, but she had left their company.
The visitor looked down on Mike as he flashed a macabre kind of smile.
"Mr. English?" the stranger asked.
"Yes, I'm Mike English." He started toward the visitor, who stood by the modern coffee table in the center of the room.
"Permit me to introduce myself," the man in the cape said. "I'm Colonel Christopher Wark Paulmann. I stopped by your office. Your secretary directed me here." He handed Mike an engraved card bearing his name:
CHRISTOPHER WARK PAULMANN
President Paulmann Shows
118 Coral Bay, Tonawanda, Florida
"Besides being president of Paulmann Shows, I am also the ringmaster of our traveling circus," he said gravely. "It is one of the few surviving circuses of its kind in the world."
"Won't you sit down, Mr. Paulmann," Mike said.
"I prefer to stand, thank you. I'll get on with my reason for being here. Mr. English, my circus is being systematically sabotaged by a madman. Rare animals have been poisoned, trapeze nets cut, valuable performers injured." He paused dramatically.
"I see," Mike said, exhaling cigarette smoke. "But don't you think a security service might be of more help to you?"
"I've tried that," Paulmann said, shifting his weight from his right to his left foot, a tall, leaning tower of a man, almost rickety because of his thinness. "Ten guards travel with the circus, but still these vicious acts of sabotage continue."
Mike put out his cigarette and straightened up, looking Paulmann in the eyes-dark, mysterious eyes. "My services are expensive," he said. "Five hundred dollars a day. In addition, I require a retainer of $5,000."
"You come highly recommended as a private investigator, Mr. English ... I can't afford not to hire you."
Sweeping aside his cape, Paulmann reached into his jacket's inside pocket, extracting a leather-bound checkbook and a pen. Meticulously, he wrote out a check for five-thousand dollars and then pulled ten crisp one-hundred dollar bills from his wallet-secretary, handing the check and money to Mike.
"Your retainer, Mr. English, and two days' expenses as well. I'll expect you at our show tonight. We're at Convention Center ... just show this pass." Paulmann handed him a pass from his wallet, bearing the words PRESS.
A feeble smile played on Paulmann's face, his eyes seeming larger than they actually were because of the heavy makeup he wore. He was aware of his own appearance now.
"I came to your place right after our matinee performance," he explained. "Didn't even change into street clothes I was so shaken up. You see, today a fifty-pound weight dropped on our star clown, Terry Shields. Brain concussion. He's on the critical list at Methodist Hospital."
Mike coughed.
CHAPTER TWO
The insolent, brassy sounds of trumpets and tubas bounced into Mike's ears as he flashed his PRESS card, stepping through the turnstill past an old man in a yellow uniform.
Kids swarmed around him, giggling and talking excitedly, hurrying through the many doors opening into the Convention Center arena.
"How do I get to the back side?" he asked a freckled usher.
"Stay to the right, keep going until you reach a double door marked NO ENRANCE," he said. "You got a pass?"
"Yeah."
"Just knock on the door. Someone will let you in."
As he nudged his way toward the building's rear, he caught glimpses of the kaleidoscopic setting for the circus.
Already, clowns in white, painted-on faces and flouncy clothes and long, floppy shoes were cruising the arena firing pistols that ejected red flags that said BANG on them, turning somersaults, pouring buckets of sawdust marked WATER on the surprised spectators.
The rollicking, raucous band music ignited the excitement, punctuating the clowns' antics with high, shrill trumpet notes or deep, guttural groans from the tuba.
Around the circle of the ring, near the main entrance, a beautiful redhead in tight-fitting powder blue tights gleaming with sequins rode the back of a huge elephant. Behind it trailed other elephants, their trunks linked to the tails of the animals in front of them.
Hawking bouquets of cotton candy and cups of flavored chipped ice called snowballs and hot, buttered popcorn were scores of men and boys in white tunics, weaving to and fro in the rows around the arena.
The aromas were tantalizing. The sweet, succulent pink fluff of the cotton candy, the rich, deep smell of the popcorn.
Mike checked his Explorer watch: 7:15. Still fifteen minutes until show-time. But he hurried up, showing his pass at the entranceway to the innards of the building and being admitted.
Around him swirled beautiful women, some in tights, others in-exotic, flowing costumes. From cages peered Bengal tigers, with stripes like lightning across their orange coats. A Strong Man wearing a leopard skin and a gold fitting around his huge left arm brushed past.
But Mike had little trouble spotting the Ringmaster. In the center of it all, he rose like a tower, talking gently to a young woman in an Indian maiden costume, her glossy, dark hair trailing down her back in pigtails.
The leather of the costume and its tightness made no secret of her figure. It was gorgeous, her legs especially. Long and muscular, but only enough to make them exciting. Trim ankles. Nice, smooth olive skin.
He moved up casually, catching Colonel Paulmann's eye.
"Pretty hectic aorund here," Mike said.
"Always is at show-time, Mr. English. A hundred different things going on ... uh, Mr. English, this is my niece, Glenda Rawlings, my sister's daughter. She's an assistant in one of the acts. Only one I trust around here anymore."
"Hi," he said.
She smiled. Her warm eyes said, "Hello ... I like you," although she just nodded. She turned back towards her uncle. "Guess Pd better put on my makeup."
She hurried off. He watched. Nice. Especially nice butt.
"Tonight I'd like you to keep your eyes open and ask questions. Meet as many people as you can but don't be obtrusive," the colonel explained, curling up the waxy ends of his moustache. "You see, I've told everyone you're the agent for a corporation that's considering purchase of the circus. That way you'll be free to ask questions, probe around without coming under suspicion."
"Clever," Mike said. "That's a good cover ... is Terry Shield-the clown-any better?"
"Thank God, yes. He's off the critical list, Mr. English."
Through the doors came the heady sounds of "Yankee Doodle Dantly."
"That's our cue, Mr. English," the Ringmaster said. "I'll see you later."
Mike watched with fascination as the tall man strolled aristocratically to the doorway into the arena and disappeared into the midst of the crowd beyond.
Four large men, sweating and straining, began pushing the tiger cage forward, while the big cat tamer, a short, muscular man with a faint smile across his mouth, paced nervously behind the cage, snapping his whip, trying it out. His black boots clicked hard against the pavement as he paced. Beyond him, a tall, shiny platinum blonde, magnificently built, watched him coolly from dark green eyes. Jungle eyes.
Mike followed the tiger tamer and the cage and the beautiful attendant through the door into the arena but forked left, heading toward the band stand where he positioned himself behind a row of saxophonists, who didn't even look up from their sheet music as he took up his watching post.
After the singing of "The Star Spangled Banner," the show began, each act introduced in lovely tones by Colonel Paulmann. In his full regalia, a tuxedo with a long red coat and top hat, his waxed mustache shiny in the spotlight, his eyes bright with excitement, the colonel was impressive. He also was a first-class master of ceremonies, commanding the audience's attention with his thunderous voice.
Mike watched the acts but he also kept his eyes roaming the stadium. For a loose cable. For some flicker of the hand or false move that might signal another disaster.
Wish I'd brought my binoculars.
As the trumpets sounded again, Chief Osceola, tight-wire star, walked regally into the arena in full Seminole Indian trappings. Following him dutifully in her Indian maiden costume came Glenda Rawlings. She carried his paraphernalia-hoops and a huge, bright-red firecracker.
Warily, the big Indian, in chiefs headdress, tested the wire, stretched between vertical orange poles, striped with swirls of white like a barber's pole. Again. Then, grabbing hold, he spiraled atop the thin wire and tip-toed across it, his mocassins landing surely.
Suspenseful notes shrilled from the brass section as Chief Osceola stepped up the pace. His moving body became almost a blur as he skipped rope on the wire. Faster and faster.
The crowd roared, mostly kids, liking the Indian's boldness and his nimblefootedness, not to mention his fancy clothes and elaborate headdress of leather and beads and feathers. Several times he slipped, sending the crowd into spasms of surprise and terror and delight.
Below him the shiny wire flexed with his changing weight glistening in the rays of the overhead lights, every color of the rainbow.
Over the public address system now sounded the dramatic words of the Ringmaster: "And now Chief Osceola will do a full turn through the hoop with a double whammy climax!"
More suspenseful music poured from the bandstand as the Indian princess handed him a red hoop and a gigantic firecracker.
Cautiously, as the crowd's noise dipped to a hush, he started across the shiny wire, weaving now, seeming unsteady.
In the middle he began to sway, hard, back and forth, testing. Then suddenly he brought the taut wire still. Raising the hoop, holding it with a strong grasp, he quickly lit the huge firecracker.
The crowd gasped.
As the band music boomed, he suddenly tossed the firecracker high into the air and jumped, performing a perfect somersault through the hoop and landing squarely on his feet just as the firecracker blew off. Two loud blasts.
The crowd went wild.
In appreciation, Chief Osceola let out a loud war cry as he hurried out of the sawdust arena, his pretty assistant right behind him.
Next came a trapeze act and then the Human Cannon, followed by an act in which French poodles, dressed in haute couture, performed various feats.
He ducked back into the performers' section of the arena, finding gorgeous Glenda Rawlings at a card table, playing solitaire and sipping some iced tea.
She looked up. "How's your investigating?"
"A zero so far ... I liked your act."
"Oh, the kids love it. It's mostly a fun thing, although Henry's a damned good performer. Chief Osceola to you."
"When do you folks eat?"
"Nobody in show biz eats before a show," she said. "Too many butterflies. Usually we eat right after the show."
"Can I take you to dinner?"
"Sure."
In the candlelight her face looked soft. Her eyes reflected pinpoints of light. She'd combed out her lovely black hair and was wearing a white dress that heightened the beauty of her olive skin and her dark hair.
He lit a Winston and sipped the orange-flavored liqueur with which they were completing their meal at Donatello's.
"Care for a cigarette?" he asked.
"Don't use them, thanks."
"How long have you been with the circus?" he asked.
"Since my mother died-three years ago," she said, searching out his eyes. "I'd just started in college, but I had to drop out. I was working as a waitress, the only kind of job I could get, when Uncle Chris showed up."
"And?"
"And he packed my bag, paid the back rent I owed and here I am. I love circus life."
"Your father?"
Her face grew hard and her eyes looked absently into the distance.
"He abandoned us when I was small. I don't know where he is. Don't give a damn." She sipped her liqueur. "This is tasty."
"Good on ice cream, too ... do you have any idea at all who might be causing all the trouble?" he asked, not really wanting to talk shop but then, duty called.
"Everything's been so vicious," she said thoughtfully. "It seems like some hate thing to me. Some kind of revenge act."
"Somebody in the show?" Mike asked.
She hesitated. "No ... no, I don't think so. Everybody in the show loves Uncle Chris. Really. He's been wonderful to everybody through the years. You see, circus people are very close. No, Mike, I'd say it's an outsider."
Mike studied her face. He loved its soft blush and the deep pools of her blue eyes. Large, mellow blue. His hand touched hers.
"Would you like to to go my place?" he asked.
She smiled engagingly. "Sure."
By the time they reached the 900 Apartment Complex, rain was falling in sheets, so hard the windshield wipers of his Alfa Romeo could hardly keep them clear. He drove into the underground garage and parked.
As he turned toward her, cupping the ignition keys, he took her into his arms, pressing her fresh, firm young body to his, his warm mouth searching for her equally warm reception.
"Mike?" she managed to say.
"Yeah?"
"I'm not promiscuous, believe me," she said, her voice breathless. "It's just that you turn me on."
"The feeling's mutual," he said. "Know something? I've got a huge, imported, expensive sofa in my apartment that's a much better place to make love on than this."
He opened his door and rounded the car. When he opened her door and she shifted to get out, he got a jokingly sexy view of her legs, so shapely they'd have looked good without the enhancement of the extremely well cut white pumps they fit into. Light hose, so clear her legs seemed naked, fit her long, svelte legs so snugly they didn't seem to be sheathed. Her dress inched up, providing an excellent view from mid-thigh down past her taut calves to her feet.
Wow!
His excitement increased as they walked across the garage floor toward the elevator. For a moment she walked ahead and he saw her fleshy but firm buttocks stretched tantalizingly tight against the fine, silky material of her dress, riding tantalizingly against it.
Her heels beat out a sensuous rhythm on the concrete as she walked, a proud, sure walk, the kind of walk possessed by women who are sure of their sexual competence.
"Do you have any Indian blood in you?" he asked, out of the blue, as they waited for the elevator to reach the basement level.
She laughed. Her ripe mouth spread wide, and she laughed. "Not a trace. I wish I did."
"But you...."
"Are you as aroused as I am?" she asked.
"I'm rock hard!" he said. "Feel."
Taking her hand, he put it to his fly. She didn't flinch but softly rubbed, an admiring look flooding into her eyes.
"That's a whopper!"
Liberated woman. To think that women used to repress such lovely words and actions.
The elevator doors yawned silently open for them and they boarded. In the small, climbing box he pulled her to him, his body hungrily pressing against hers. His imprisoned cock shoved rudely against her pelvic area, finding that familiar bulge. This one was well protected by snatch hair.
His hands slid around her hips, silky and evasive in the dress, pressing hard as he sucked her toward him, burying his mouth in hers and reaming up her softness, enjoying the remarkable skills of her tongue.
They unboarded, holding hands, hurrying to 10E. He had the key ready and quickly opened the door.
"Make yourself comfortable, Glenda," he said, flicking on the lights. "I mean very comfortable, while I check with my answering service. The bathroom's down the hall, to the right."
He took off his coat and tie, as she disappeared up the hall. Lighting a Winston, he called his answering service. Just a couple of routine calls.
Excited by her presence, he was stretching back on the living room sofa, his shoes and socks off, momentarily cooling and relaxing his tired feet, when she appeared in the doorway, in one of his robes, too big for her, a mixture of white diamonds and clubs on a rich crimson background-all silk-British. Across her face she wore a sad look, as if somebody had just taken candy from her or abandoned her with a dirty old man.
"You look like some lost moppet!" he said.
She didn't change expression. "Close your eyes!"
"What for?"
"Close your eyes," she repeated smoothly.
He did, hearing just afterwards a faint rustling of the robe and a muted giggle.
"Now see what your moppet has turned into!" she teased.
He popped open his eyes, rubbing them, doing a Utile acting of his own, but still he wasn't prepared for what he saw. His early assessments of her physical beauty, he realized delightfully, had been far, far short of the mark. That simple white evening dress had concealed a veritable sex goddess!
Before him now, she paraded her treasures. Except for a string-type bra of white, contrasting sharply with her lovely dark skin, a matching string bikini and those lovely white pumps that did so much for her now-bare legs, she wore not a stitch.
As she rolled her tongue around her mouth, freshly lipsticked in a pink patina, she posed for him, turning and twisting. Every inch and every shadow and nuance of her beautiful body revealed itself to him.
Another twister!
Tantalizingly, as she teased him with her sky-blue eyes, she began swaying her body so that every delicious curve and dimple and turn changed shape before him. In perfect rhythm she began to oscillate her large, conical tits, upturned like rockets, nippled brown. Bouncing, hard bubbles of satiny flesh.
With a huge cat's grace and sure body movements, she weaved toward him, almost drunkenly, intoxicated with her own sexual powers. The pointed toes of her well-cut shoes pushed provocatively into the shag, cutting a path for her, as she creased toward him, her shapely leg muscles rippling deliciously hard against her skin.
Quickly, he freed his cock. It flared red before him, drawing her attention. She smacked her lips.
"You like your sex straight or kinky?" she asked, pirouetting before him, hands away. Her thick yet silky black hair played about her shoulders as, she spun around for him.
"I like it any way I can get it!" he said, taking off the rest of his clothes, as she watched with visible signs of approval. Her eyes widened and she stroked a finger across her nylon-shielded cunt mound.
"Would you mind giving me an ass-whipping!" she asked, her eyes pleading.
"I'd love it," he said. "Come here!"
She inched forward and he pulled her to his tough, expectant body, sweeping in every curve that had been teasing him. She felt even better than she looked.
His mouth found hers, meshing with it, then roaming it in a juicy exploration. Urgently his cock pressed against her silken triangle.
"It's an old hangup, my penchant for a spanking," she explained, her voice husky. "You see, that was the only way I could get my father to pay any attention to me when I was a little girl ... I'd do something bad just to get him to punish me. Then I'd be close to him, see. Oh, I hate him for leaving us!"
He pressed his hands to the harderect hillocks of her butt and pulled her to him, then traced them up the smooth surface of her back. She ground her mouth into his hungrily, her tongue probing for his tonsils.
"You don't have to explain," he said, taking a breather, staring into those lovely blue eyes, already beginning to glaze. "I've got a few hangups of my own. I've got a thing for shoes, for instance. When you came out almost naked except for your strings and those gorgeous shoes showing off those beautiful legs, I thought I'd blow my wad before I even touched you! I love to screw a gal in heels."
"Hell, that's not kinky!" she laughed.
"The kinky part is that I love using the heels, uh, in different ways. Sometimes I like to shoot in one or...."
"Oh, Mike, I knew we'd get along!" She hugged him tighter. "Isn't it a damn shame other people can't be free with their sexual instincts? It's so much fun!"
"Hey, you lied to me," he said mischievously.
A hurt look flashed onto her face, erasing the dimples and extinguishing the fire in her eyes.
"I haven't lied to you," she said, pulling back, flaring her hair.
"You said you were a waitress before you joined the circus. I never saw a waitress with a walk on her like a burlesque queen!"
She giggled.
"I worked in the Merry Go Round, an exotic bar-restaurant in Frisco, silly. We did a little more than just serve food!"
Brusquely he pulled her back to him, kissing her hard. Then he guided her to the huge couch, pressing her back to it, folding his body in front of hers.
Putting his hands to those huge, aching-to-be-handled tits, he ran his fingers under the soft undersides, savoring them before sweeping upwards. Then uptarning those rockets even more, pointing their hardening nipples high.
"God, they're nice!"
"Want to suck?"
His mouth fixed to the right one, relishing the grainy texture of the nipple and feeling the puckers of skin around it, inundating it in saliva as she ran her fingers through his hair. He filled his mouth with her breast, as much as he could stuff in, wallowing in its silkiness and the firm feel of her nipple.
He switched suddenly to the left boob, giving it the same attention, drowning it in his mouth juices, trying to swallow it whole, eat it up.
Before him his huge cock protruded obscenely, neglected, until she put a silky, soft hand to it while he sucked her perky breasts. She jacked him off, slowly building her tempo in lusty, velvety sweeps of her hand up his cock's stalk, as he straddled her, gorging himself on those lovely cones.
He slid her into a fucking position, her legs wrapped around his back. Female velvet. He felt her sharp heeled pumps peck, peck on his rump. Then, sensing his arousal, she rubbed the soft, leathery sides of the heels across his buttocks.
"Like that?" she asked.
"Hell yes, woman!"
"You can shoot your manly hot come all over those heels," she said seductively. "I'll even drink it from them!"
The words themselves and beyond them the sheer meaning of them seared into his mind. It inflamed his mind, turning on every sex tap in him, flooding his body with lust.
Lifting his mouth from her hard rocket, moist from his rubbings and suckings, he found her mouth, burrowing in so hard he probably bruised her. His body fell to hers.
Aching and panting to be inside her, he slid his tremendous, hard cock into her body, relishing its relative dryness, not giving her time to get fully aroused.
"Oh!" she cried.
With a force born of total desire he rammed all the way up her, feeling hot tissue give, suddenly feeling her body working with him, her muscles parting and salving and helping.
His full weight was suspended above her, but his energy had been pumped hotly into his huge cockhead, which bore into her spongy, soft cunt with a mighty, gushing fury. A shiver coursed up his back as he plowed in deeper, reaching the flowing sap far down in her vagina, bathing his cock in its wet heat.
Her pillowy ass writhed beneath him as he filled her with his hugeness, grinding the delicious hillocks of her ass into the sofa's surface.
Her flat belly, a field of down, rose and fell in hungry gasps as his violent, violent desire released itself.
Each boring in sent his dork snugly into her hot, pungent bowl, spanking her cunt with solid force.
Twisting and turning, she sprawled atop him, impaling herself on the spike that rose from his loins like some magnificent red weapon, coated in her dew.
Back and forth she thrust herself, slithering her gushy cunt onto his mighty, upturned cock. He smiled, enjoying the sensation and even the sexy sounds of the slap slap of her titties, flopping wildly, banging his chest with nipples so erect they peppered him with pain.
As he reached up, grabbing them, twisting them into the hard insides of his hands, she fucked him with renewed fervor, anchored to him now in three different parts of her delectable body.
As she filled her belly with his wet prick, sliding up and down its rough arch, her body developed a fine coating of sweat, perfumed by sex. Its fragtunce aroused even further his animal instincts.
He fired his cock into her descending body until it vanished, allowing her only to nibble with her trained vagina around its girth before exiting to ride upward again, taking control of the rhythm.
He gloried in the beauty of her young body, as fresh as a nymphet's, beautifully supple and resilient and responsive. He loved her for having kept on her stylish shoes. His fetish. The only piece of a woman's wardrobe that really turned up his sexual motor.
Those beautiful, white, soft leather shoes seemed an extension of her beautifully turned legs and fine ankles and feet, the creaming on the cake. He marveled at the way the soft leather creased as her heels dug into the shoes from her exertions. Beautiful creases of white leather, nearly as soft and sexy as her own dark, olive skin.
More and more she relied on her wonderfully springy and shapely legs to slam herself down the long, firm length of his prong. Using those lovely gams as springs, she sent more strength into her volleys, trembling and moaning from her own exertions, but loving it.
Down she slid, sheath onto dagger, until she rammed her lovely cunt to the hilt and halted, savoring his fullness in her, resting, but then, suddenly igniting again, rolling on him in frantic circles.
Up he thrust now, maddened by her, until his big-ended cunt conqueror struck her cervix, eliciting a loud Jesus!
But instead of retreating, she fell back on his arched high prick, swimming dizzily down its curved massiveness, whamming down again, pubic hair against pubic hair.
Each round increased in its speed and violence until her breasts looked as if they were going to fly loose, but instead, pecked insistently against his hairy chest.
The sap of her flaming cunt being parted ruthlessly now as he bowed his body and sent his dick pistoning into her, began to bathe his furious prick until it seemed almost enveloped in liquid.
Her lips, rich and wide, as finely textured as a rose, began to tremble from the force of his passion and from her own need to come. So he eased up, sending just gentle strokes into her body. She reciprocated by loosening the choking hold of her vaginal muscles surrounding his tough, in-riding cock.
"This shoe thing really turns you on!" she said in kittenish tones.
"Always has. The most beautiful part of a woman's body are her legs and the thing that really frames up and sets off a lovely pair of legs is a nice pair of high heels. Simple as that. Hell, as a kid I used to get my rocks off riding the city bus, just watching the lovely, lovely legs moving up and down the aisle. Sometimes, when the buses were crowded, I'd get hold and squeeze up behind some nice young butt and press my dick against it!"
"Mike, you're so honest. How many men would tell something like that!"
"I've got a reason, sugar. It turns me on. It's a kind of verbal exhibitionism."
"Talking can be sexy, can't it! Hey, I just remembered a story you might appreciate. You're not the only shoe fetichist around! This girl friend of mine, Linda Sanderson, was in the Miss North Carolina Pines contest. Well, after their bathing suit prelims, all the girls were approached by this well-dressed man. Seemed clean-cut enough. Said he was a shoe repairman and he'd repair their shoes free as his contribution to the Contest."
He slowed his stroking but felt his cockhead swelling, already reacting to the excitement of the story.
"Hey, don't ease up too much!" she pleaded. "Well ... several of the girls, including my friend Linda, gave the man heels to get repaired. And they waited, and they waited. Never saw the guy again. Finally, when he tried the trick again, in another contest, the police arrested him. At his home they found a closet full of high heel shoes. High heels of every color and description. Many of the shoes were damaged from semen spills. What a ball he must have had, jacking off all over those heels! Some of the contestants were beautiful, I mean beautiful, with lovely legs."
He whipped his cock from her and pulled her forward.
"Give me a shoe!" he demanded.
As she reached back, pulling loose a shoe, he grabbed it, stroking its soft leather up and down the length of his stalk so roughly, he left indentations.
She squealed with pleasure, her mouth dripping saliva, seeing his cockhead seems to double in size, becoming a bobbing apple swinging madly in the air.
Before he'd fully realized it, she'd taken off the other shoe. Excited by her own project, she smiled as she pressed the shoe's sexy pointed toe softly under his lashing scrotum. As he pressed the side of the shoe tighter, in a rapid rubbing up and down his blushing cock, she ran the other shoe's teasing point in little circles against his balls.
He lurched in pleasure.
Seeing it, he became even more excited. The look on her face told him she was loving it too.
This woman's driving me mad with her cooperation! She's so goddamned sexy.
"Oh, Mike, please do me a favor!" she begged. "Please."
His voice husky, he answered. "I'll try."
"Shoot all that beautiful hot come of yours into my wide, wide mouth!"
With that, she raised the shoe she was pressing to his scrotum and applied it to the far side of his cock, rubbing in a rhythm that matched his, from the other side.
"Bend down to receive it."
They both rubbed harder, that magic wand before them risen higher and grown fatter.
Her rosebud mouth parted even wider, showing small, white teeth, like an animal's, and her tongue inched out, bathing her lips. Expectant.
His cock felt rubbed raw but so fierce in its needs that it was oblivious to the sweet, biting slaps of the high heels.
He reached forward and slid the back of his rock-hard pole across her mouth and she licked it appreciatively. Her eyes seemed streaked with licks of yellow passion as her free hand moved voluptuously into and out of her flowing pussy, so wet its nest of protective hair had become a tangle of wet noodles.
A splinter of sensation so sweet it paralyzed his loins started somewhere in his heavy hanging balls and spread. He fell back, his own hand limp, as she fell to his cock, eating it with a fierce delight he'd never experienced.
Her wide, deep, wet mouth seemed to sponge his entire dick with its heat all at once, to envelop it in a velvety cocoon.
His penis had grown monstrous in size, a shaft of crude, hard masculinity that arched high into her slurping, wet mouth that was trying to wring cream from it. Thick and bulging, it throbbed hard inside her wet tissue, its veins pressed anxiously against tight skin bathed in her exudations.
She literally lurched and rolled around on it, trying to conquer it with her sheer femininity and her gushing, sucking, sopping mouth, loving it so tenderly it seemed her possession.
Snuggling it more comfortably into her face, watching her eyes move up and down its tremendous length as she appreciatively lapped it, he began pumping softly as she licked.
The thick, long, fat mass of his aroused cock lay insolently, moving almost imperceptibly, an intensely red bar of flesh sizzling between the soft mounds of her rich, wide lips, its knobby end mashing into her orifice's sweetness.
Rapturously delighted, she spun on his huge top, shellacking it with her tongue, moaning as she worked, sucking his furious cock with the dedication of a whore.
She felt him coming. He saw it in her eyes. Eyes that wanted him to spill his liquid seed into her, to fill her cup. Some other time.
Quickly, he jerked it from her, marveling at the stupendous size of his cock and its redness.
With quick, hard jerks against its sausage-tight skin, he fired his cream into the cream-toned high heel she held for him, smiling, as juices trickled from her luscious mouth. With her other hand, she rubbed the other heel luxuriously up and down his shaft, milking from it every ounce of its white gold.
As the gusher lost power, she slid the smooth heel up the gloriously spent monster and tap-tapped its head.
"Well done!" she said.
Such a peach of a girl. Such an understanding girl. I'll repay her. So she likes ass beating. She'll get an ass whipping she'll never forget!
He was still mildly aroused, although his cock was steadily losing its power.
"Goddammit, you're naughty," he cried, in an angry tone.
She caught on, giving him a child's hurt look and a pouted lip. Her lips looked even sexier when she pouted them, faintly cruel little pillows of joy.
Frantically, she tried to jerk free of him, but he pulled her back, roughly, bending her nude body across his knees until her wet-nested young cunt was lying across his spent cock, her remarkably erect buttocks shining up at him.
This isn't going to be a chore at all!
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Preparing to spank your nice little ass!" he snapped.
His right hand, having caught up one of her high heels, bore down hard with it on her upturned right hillock, smacking it hard with the smooth-bottomed sole.
"Geeeeeeee!" she shouted. "I love it!"
The strike left a red streak across light tan, a mark as individual as a brand. That thought thrilled him.
Flaring her jet-black hair, she wiggled her head, staring up at him from her slave-like position, her gaze pleading for more. As he raised his hand, bearing the glossy pump, feeling his cock rising, she averted her face.
The powerful blow of sole against rump fell on her other buttock this time, embellishing it with the same brand. His brand. She sighed deeply.
"Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry!" she said, her voice changed, like a little girl's.
Inspired, he began a steady tattoo of heel against lovely, perked bottom until her entire ass was a field of red, firmed by the assault.
God, this is sexy! I love seeing that opulent young rump redden. I love the excitement it gives her and the wetness of her snatch on me!
Sounds of pleasure escaped from her as her body writhed beneath the smacking heel until his arm ached.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
Long pause. Her body squirmed tightly against his loins as his dick, bent against her, grew fat in a tight coil.
"No, it tickles," she responded. "It tickles ... deli-ciously."
That infuriated him, and his cock pressed more urgently against her silkiness.
Lowering her to the sofa, positioning her just as he wanted her, supine on her stomach beneath him, her face wearing a puzzled, alarmed look, he began spanking her ass with his fully erect cock, harder than a two by four, going from hillock to hillock in his lashings. Harder, until he thought the blood would gush from his pecker.
"That tickles too," she cooed.
Hussy! Wanton fucking hussy!
With a force that took her breath, spinning her forward without any hope of stopping or even slowing his fury, he fired his cock between those reddened de-miglobes to the humid bush beyond, feeling it give. But not enough. Reluctantly. But there was no stopping him.
Up her he screwed his turgid cock until he buried the flaming giant in the deep cleft of her hot, moist belly. Almost atop her rump, he pounded in and out of her open, oozing gash to a chorus of screams of delight as she hunched back, her indifference gone, quivering in the rapture of it all, the pain he'd inflicted on her delectable buttocks faded by the new sensation.
She rocked into his cock with the vigor and lust of a born fucking bitch, closing around his invading hammer those sponging, grasping, hugging wet rings of her vaginal corridor.
He tore into her fiercely, splashing her tits into the sofa, grinding her belly down into its coarse surface. Harder he drove in, until he felt her buttocks clench together defensively, trying to cushion his raining blows. But that only teased his passion. It made her seem virginal and less accessible, thus more desirable.
With an absolute fury born of her insolence, he sent her body tearing against the sofa, rubbing it raw. Inflamed, he sought relief in repeated phallic plunges, wet and gushing, up her well-tracked snatch, as she moaned.
He gorged her with every thick inch of his prick, each stab sending her body helplessly hard against the divan.
As her buttocks gave up their defiance, he missed their rigidity tight against his cock, the sensation of the twin pillows pressing into his dick as he surfed in, so he took one in each hand, pressing them inward simultaneously toward his rude red, touching it, as it extracted its due, as if he were drilling for oil. Drilling for cunt oil all right.
Jesus!
"Un ... unnnnnnngh!"
Abruptly, she spread her ass wider, digging her toes into the couch, giving herself wholly to his lust. She was so juicy the sounds of their contact splashed loudly into the room.
She came first, suddenly, screaming and reaching back to rake him with her polished nails, such was her ecstasy. She sank into a fury of hunching and squirming that only gradually lost its might.
But her naked, glistening body still responded to his spearing demands as she ardently sought to please him. Throbs of pleasure started to mount, ever increasing. Then he came.
Extracting his huge cock, he arched its white streak of come, shooting it up and trailing it down her gorgeous back, criss-crossing her supple spinal column, barely visible beneath her finely textured skin. It dribbled onto the sofa as she collapsed forward.
He rose, feeling slightly dizzy, wanting a drink.
CHAPTER THREE
Mike stripped down to his shorts and eased himself onto the candy-striped stool before the huge makeup mirror, ringed with lights to show up every flaw on his face. He shrugged and began applying white greasepaint to his face, working it in until it was a smooth white mask that reached below his neckline.
Jesus, I look sick!
Pressing closer to the mirror and picking up a thick black eyebrow pencil, he darkened and lengthened his eyebrows. Next he applied the huge apple-like artificial red nose, pressing hard to seal it to his face. The metamorphosis was starting to please him.
He donned the floppy yellow hat and gazed hard at himself, a smile forming slowly on his lips.
No wonder people become clowns. It's a way of hiding out. I feel great.
Another face appeared in the mirror, down low. Two huge blood-shot eyes. He spun around and looked down. Nemo the clown laughed a dry laugh.
"Not bad for an amateur," he said. "You look pretty good, Mike."
"Thanks, Nemo," he said to the midget, who wore baggy pants and a dunce's cap and whose own face was a quilt of violent colors so that he resembled some kind of weird human flower.
Mike climbed into the vibrantly colored clown's costume which he zipped up and then put on the long, floppy, ill-fitting shoes that curled up at the toes. He felt strange.
"The colonel told me to teach you a couple of routines, Mike," Nemo said, watching him closely. "Maybe the water routine or the Bang Bang.
"Well," the midget explained, "the water routine's simple. You see, I run ahead of you trying to get away from you when suddenly you stop and pick up a red bucket. Catching up with me, you douse me with the water inside. The crowd, taking me side, boos you. Suddenly you turn on them and make ugly faces and they boo more." He paused, lighting a cigarette, twisting his face into a smile. "The kids really give you a hard time. So what do you do? You run to another red bucket, grab it up and swing it several times in their direction, until they're reeling back in their seats. Nobody thinks you'll throw it. But then, suddenly, shouting "Watch Out!" you heave the bucket's contents into the crowd. Of course it's filled with confetti."
Mike lit a Winston and inhaled. "I've seen the routine, Nemo. It's pretty traditional, isn't it?"
The clown's feelings seemed hurt. "Yeah, but, well it's new to the kids, remember that! If you don't like it, we'll do the Bang Bang thing. You know, shoot into the crowd with the big red gun that ejects a flag saying BANG!"
"I think the water routine is better, Nemo," he said.
Through the main entrance he could see the big cats' tamer snapping his bull whip, running the last Bengals into a huge cage. His assistant, the beautiful Amazon, Jil St. Clair, lowered the cage's door with a flouish. As the band sounded high trumpet notes, the two performers bowed to the crowd's applause.
As the big cat act exited, the ringmaster made an announcement about souvenir programs and then the band struck up the opeing bars of "A Bicycle Built for Two," as two chimps, Mickey and Marge, wheeled into the main arena, peddling a specially built bike. The kids went wild. Next, a larger chimp rolled into view atop a gigantic bicycle. Major Dromo, a hairy clown.
"We're on next, Mike!" Nemo said excitedly, grinding out his cigarette onto the concrete floor with his shoe, so small it would have fit a child.
Mike put out his Winston in an ashtray on the makeup table.
Don't get so wrapped up in your act you forget your real job, he reminded himself. Keep alert for anything odd, anything out of place, any sudden or strange movements.
His antics under the big top with Nemo went off without a hitch. The kids' laughter switched to one mighty gasp when he sent the confetti flying into their faces and then hurried after Nemo, shaking his fist.
Mike then stationed himself on the sidelines, keeping a close eye on the show. His eyes roamed over the three rings and up to the maze of ropes and wires and guide lines high above where the trapeze and high-wire acts, the stars of the show, performed.
"And now Paulmann Shows Inc. is proud to announce its stellar attraction, the Daring Dubliners, international artists of the high trapeze, in a dazzling display of death-defying talent," the ringmaster announced, his words thunderous and dramatic.
Like proud thoroughbreds, the Daring Dubliners pranced into the colosseum, awing the spectators with their sheer physical beauty. A gorgeous trio of strawberry blondes in snug-fitting tights the color of flesh. The spotlights trained on their lovely, shapely bodies, catching the sparkle of the sequins on their costumes...." the fabulous, thrilling Daring Dubliners," the ringmaster continued. "April ... Amber ... Angel."
They pirouetted before the crowd before starting up the ropes to trapezes. Higher and higher they climbed, flashing their bodies as the ropes swirled.
Fascinated, Mike watched as the spotlights followed every twist and turn of their supple young bodies up the ropes. Nymphets in sequins. His cock began to respond also, swelling until it pushed against his leather jock. He was glad he'd worn it.
Angel, the leader up the ropes, particularly attracted him. Her body was leaner and trimmer, if only by a shade, than the others'. But it was her face that really turned him on. A genuine strawberry blond, with freckles, a girlish face that made her woman's body all the more fetching. Firm and tan and sleek. When she reached the ladder's top, she turned slowly on the rung and smiled at the crowd, sweeping back her abundance of hair with her hand. Right behind her came the others, Amber and April.
God, they'd look good piled up naked in my bed!
Their feats, spiraling through the air without the security of a net below them, put the crowd and Mike on edge. He kept expecting something terrible to happen. But the Daring Dubliners merely lived up to their reputation. It was with awe and relief that he watched them complete their act.
The saboteur hasn't shown his hand yet, he thought, as his eyes followed the three strawberry blondes out of the arena. I wonder when he will.
Mike poured an inch of rich amber Old Fitzgerald into a glass and mixed in refrigerated spring water. He drank. It refreshed him immediately, relaxing him and clearing his head. It was good to be home. He'd had an exasperating day, not uncovering one solid lead in the case.
TV? Nah. I'm gonna hit the sack.
He flicked off the living room lights and headed toward the bedroom. The room was cool and dark. He undressed and climbed into his Hollywood bed. The cool, satiny sheet and the thick mattress pampered his tired body.
He closed his eyes. Vignettes of the day flashed through his mind: a closeup of Angel spiraling through the air between trapezes, a cameo of Colonel Paulmann smiling as he stroked the curled-up ends of his black mustache, kaleidoscopic impressions of the changing face of Glenda Rawlings, now happy, now glum.
Suddenly, he popped his eyes open and propped up in bed. He felt uncomfortable. Something was amiss. He sensed that someone else was in the room.
His arm -edged back the sheet and he started to slide across the bed to the far side, toward the gun on the sidetable, when he touched something soft. Soft and yielding. He stroked his hand up a soft warm belly and felt a tit. It was firm and just the right size to be squeezed into his palm. He squeezed.
"Surprise!" a woman's voice squealed from somewhere in the room.
The overhead lights blared, almost blinding him as he bolted from the bed.
The woman giggled as she paraded from the closet. Mike just stared at Bunny Barlow. From her he flashed his eyes back to the bed and the rubber mannequin which lay there. That's what he'd touched, a rubber mannequin that looked just like Bunny Barlow! It was right out of one of those men's magazines advertisements of life-size blowups of broads.
He laughed. "Anything to make a buck, huh?"
"Yep. It's going to be marketed nationally, Mike. Twenty-one dollars and ninety-five cents. I get eight percent."
"Well, I'll say one thing," he said, scratching his head. "It looks just like you, right down to the navel."
"They're going to call it the Oklahoma Twister," she cooed.
Bunny started toward him. For the first time, he realized she was wearing her work clothes. They were brief: golden pasties and bikini pants. Her lovely blond hair flowed below her hips. She was wearing golden high heels, knowing he loved bare leg flesh in heels.
"Well, aren't you going to kiss me?" she said, pouting.
But he was annoyed with her. He'd had a rough day. "Why in the fuck didn't you call me to say you were coming by?" he demanded.
The harsh question produced a hurt look on her face. She turned, hurrying across the room, picking up her raincoat from a chair where she'd draped it.
"Pardon me for living!" she snapped, glowering at him. "After all, it was your idea last night to give me a key to your apartment and your suggestion that I come by tonight."
He remembered. Suddenly he remembered. His tired mind pierced the fog of his fatigue. He'd been drunk when he'd given her the key, drunk and high on her. How many other keys had he given to broads?
I'm a real dog.
"I'm sorry, baby," he said soothingly, a sheepish smile on his face. "I really am."
He lit two Winstons, handing her one. "Here."
She took the cigarette and puffed, regaining her composure. "I thought you'd be at the club tonight-in the audience," she said, her voice reflecting her disappointment.
"I planned to, baby, but about the time you were putting on your G-string and pasties I was looking at Juliet's huge backend."
"You cad!" she said.
"Relax, doll. Juliet's an elephant." He took a drag of Winston. "A real elephant. I'm handling an investigation for a circus."
"I always knew you were a clown," she said, laughing. Relaxed now. "So do you want me to fix you a drink?"
"Yeah, whiskey. Make it a healthy shot."
She put her raincoat back on the chair and started out of the room. He watched with distinct interest, his familiar horny instincts getting a jolt. Her long, burnished blond hair undulated in a glossy shuffle over her hips, flowing past them.
He liked the back of her legs, her smooth, shiny calves, the way they curved so voluptuously into her smart heels.
Eyeing her, he remembered vividly her nightclub act the first time he'd seen her, only three weeks ago at the Midnight Blues.
Wow, what an act!
The house lights dimmed and the drummer beat out a sexy rhythm on his snare. Then a red light sprayed upon the stage. A hand parted the velvet curtain, a hand with sharp, high polished nails and a diamond the size of an onion on its ringfinger. Next a gorgeous leg scissored through the curtain, bending and twisting.
The girl's long, sensuous fingers stroked up her well-turned leg, as if she were putting on hose, but her leg was bare, exquisitely nude.
Mike's cock started mushrooming against his black-leather jock strap.
Abruptly, though, the curtain closed and some drunk immediately shouted out his disapproval. Then she reappeared, this time in a more sensational way.
Her lovely, round, wiggling, twisting butt peeked between the black velvet folds of the curtain. Bounce. Bounce. Her hillocks kissed and bounced and kissed again. Straining her wonderfully versatile thigh muscles, she played craters and dimples across those rocking, oscillating pods of delectable female ass.
Her delightfully long, shiny blond hair danced across her hips in a golden fan as she swayed.
Now she paraded onto the stage, showing her curves as she strutted about on those lovely, long legs.
"Want to play peek a boo?" she asked the audience.
"You bet, baby!" a roughneck shouted back.
"You're some long, cool chick!" a younger guy screamed.
"Okay, we'll play peek a boo," she said.
Combing her hands through her luxurious hair, she draped it around her nice, solid tits and then sprayed it around her body. It formed a golden veil across her G-string, beneath which her lovely cunt arched up high.
She began a cunt wiggle. Beneath the changing golden surface of the gossamery veil her cunt rubbed and moved and seemed to rise. The G-string moistened.
She's working herself up.
But he didn't see the quick movement of her hand, which released the G-string. He saw only the opening pink folds of that lovely, womanly cunt. It was a coral, mouth-like pussy, bright from her arousal.
Sinewy and sensuous, the line of it played serpentinely before his eyes and those of everyone in the audience. She held the undivided attention of all, even the waitresses and bartenders, as she weaved before them. Her hips undulated in a separate, sensuous choreography of their own, while her cunt opened wider and wider.
She swayed backwards, throwing it out, seeming to offer it up to the first healthy male who could get to the stage with a hard-on and get it into her.
No doubt somebody's tried fucking her on stage!
Mike roughly pawed his erection, trying to salve his cock's need.
As the drummer banged out a jungle-hot rhythm on his snare and the trumpet and clarinet oozed teasing, sexy, torrid notes, the Oklahoma Twister eased to her knees and folded back her lovely head, as if she were praying or meditating. Her yellow hair fell in a pool around her so that it seemed to be protecting her.
From a long golden box before her-gone unnoticed on the stage until now-she reached in, lowering her head, her eyes lighting up with delight.
She extracted the largest and most exotic dildo he'd ever seen from the box. Metallic. All gold. Its balls were tremendous. Its heavy, shiny glans trapped the colors of the spotlights above the stage and reflected them.
Now, holding the gigantic dildo in one hand, she reached into the box again, pulling forth an orange-colored jar. A silvery label across it said: "Sex Gel."
Unscrewing the top, she scooped in with two fingers, extracting a glob of the stuff, liberally dousing the dildo's head with it.
Stuff to prolong her pleasure and to lubricate that gigantic damn thing.
As she inched the shiny golden rod up her wide-opening snatch, she smiled lewdly. Her body began to wiggle around, its dance of sex barely discernible at first. But it became more pronounced as she drove the golden stalk higher up her wet cunt, using both hands around the massive balls to ram it in.
Not a sound came from the audience. Every eye in the place focused on her. Time seemed suspended.
How much can she take? Mike wondered.
Already, she'd buried eight or ten inches of that colossal, fat and super long synthetic prick up her. At least four inches of it still protruded.
A loud, succulent, supremely sensuous sigh came from her as she concentrated on burying those final inches. Both her hands pushed against the balls of the huge, golden cock, trying to deposit it.
Her face contorted now.
A final effort. In! All the way.
Only the mass of heavy golden balls bobbed on the surface of her cunt. Her body, oiled with sweat from her effort, looked even more enchanting. She was sated!
A thin gray curtain fell across the front of the stage. Then the crowd roared in appreciation. Male fists banged on table tops. Silver money clinked onto the stage. Some guys even threw wadded up five and ten dollar bills.
She'd been sensational all right. He'd laid her three hours later, after her last show, in the cosmetic privacy of her dressing room, on a bear rug on the floor in front of her makeup table. While they balled she explained how the dildo worked. It was collapsible. Its true length was only six inches. That relieved his ego.
Mike looked up from the bed, hearing her light, dancer's footsteps. She came into the room bearing a glass of whiskey and something else, held behind her.
"I almost forgot, Mike," she said. "I brought you a gift. I was in this adorable little sex shop today, a boutique kind of place, and I picked this up for you."
She tendered it now, heading toward him, a square package wrapped in white tissue paper, adorned with a fancy blue bow.
"Blue's for males," she said.
Handing him the drink, which he sipped right away, and the gift, which he began to open, she relaxed at the foot of the bed, eyeing him.
"Hurry up and open it!" she said.
He snapped the ribbon, tossing it to the floor, and ripped off the paper. Smiling, he opened the lid of the white box and dived in with his hand.
"What the hell's this thing?" he asked, pulling out a long strap with studs on it. Black leather with silvery studs, and a buckle. "I don't have a dog."
She giggled.
"It's a cock strap, Mike!"
"Come on now, you're kidding me!"
"No, I'm not. They're the latest fad, Mike, really. Or so the little queer in the shop told me. He was such a dear." She put a twist on the word dear so that it sounded faggot.
"Why don't you try it on," she said.
"Under one condition," he said. "You've got to help."
"Oh goodie. I'll put it on for you. Goodie!" All eyes, she encircled his fat cock with the leather band, buckling it. "Ouch!" he cried. "Too tight?"
"Hell yes."
"But there's only one other notch ... you're so huge!"
She readjusted the strap until it fit snugly but comfortably. She stroked his cock appreciatively and kissed its rosy end.
"All dressed up and no place to go!" she teased.
"It's got a place to go all right," he said. "Up that juicy little cunt of yours."
"Uhm ... I bought a few things for myself, too," she said.
"Such as?"
"I'll model them for you. They're in my shoulder-bag."
While he watched, she opened the bag, big enough to hold a small wardrobe, and pulled out the sexiest black leather goods he'd seen in a long time, along with a pair of marble-smooth white shoes with six inch heels, tall, thin and cool.
Flicking off her bra, she put on the provocative leather one, which fit glove tight.
"It's tricky," she said, seeing his interest. "Watch!"
She drew her hand to the black cap across her right nipple and zipped. Out popped her lovely brown nipple, still wearing traces of creamy nipple firmer.
"Italian?" he asked.
"No, It's French. Isn't it darling?"
She tested the other one and it worked equally well, spilling forth another juicy brown nipple.
Spinning about so he could watch her ass bounce and band, she dropped the G-string and stepped high, flashing her gorgeous legs, one at a time, stepping into the black leather panties.
Jesus!
He thought he'd come without even putting a finger to his cock. It was oozing at the sight of her hard round butt squeezed nylon-wet tight into those sensuous black pants. They bit so tightly, every delectable curve of her ass showed. When she moved, each buttock became distinctly outlined in gorgeous black against the leather.
When she bent to step into her lovely, glossy white high heels, the muscles of her calves popped hard against her skin. His cock reared.
She rose and about-faced, kicking up her legs at him, twisting and turning before him, luring him on.
"Like?"
"Take a look at my dick and you'll see how well." She stared, smacking her lips. "It's a monster!" she squealed. "You're responsible," he said. "Come here!"
As he sat on the bed's edge, she came to him. Her hips were level with his eyes.
"I want to see something," he said.
Anticipating his next move, she backed off playfully. But he snared her in his large hands, pulling her toward him. Quickly, he zipped open her black leather pants and slid them off, almost ripping them, such was his haste.
The sight of her labia spread out, revealing the delicious, glistening slice of pink of her inner cunt, boggled his mind. The black leather straps of the Labia Spreader not only spread back her cunt appetizingly, but framed it beautifully as well. It was a real turn-on.
"Delicious," he said.
"It really shows off the goods, doesn't it? That little shop's got everything."
"I'm beginning to believe you."
The leather frame made her cunt so appealing he didn't want to waste time sucking cunt. He was too damned aroused. He wanted to fuck cunt, rub that pink slit ruby red with his furious unfurled cock pounding into her.
Mike spun Bunny to the bed, forking wide that lovely snatch.
"My, but you're in a hurry!" she squealed.
Feeling his cock, stroking his hand the length of it until it nudged the tight strap, he guided that strong pink rod into her, between those black leather straps into that glistening pink wet cunt.
With one smooth hard stroke he rammed into her.
Her body gave and her cunt emitted a slush sound. She was dripping cunt juice.
He heard her heels click to the floor just before he felt her silky long legs clasping around his hips, sucking him in harder and tighter. Those smooth legs felt cool and sexy on his hot behind.
He kept his swollen meat hard up her cunt as he began to fuck her slowly and deeply. As he filled her and plunged into her, her body rippled with shudders. Her ever-moistening cunt was an open gash, all pink and juicy around his invading pole. The soft flesh of her vagina swelled around his spike as it sank and resank into that gloriously hot interior. Her passage became juicier and better grooved the longer he banged into her. Her legs went wild, slamming into his hips with blows cushioned by her lovely calves as she tried to get more and more of his cock.
As his passion rose, like a gathering storm, he jabbed into her with forceful, cruel strokes. His hairy loins smacked her soft loins as his dick drove far far up her.
As he cocked her, his hands roamed to her soft-to-the-touch black leather bra and unzipped each window to her nipples; she'd zipped up on him, no doubt to entice him back to those delectable round fruits.
Zip. The right nipple perked out. Hard. He tweaked it, and she squealed. Her cunt arched up to his invading cock. His hand roughly shoved away the soft leather of the bra and palmed her boob, cupping it hard, savoring its size and smoothness.
Zip. He tweaked the left nipple hard. She groaned.
As he pasted her to the bed with repeated, hard jabs of his prick, licking up her cunt juice, he freed the left tit, mauling it until he was drooling from his endeavors and she was squirming in a spasm of sexual joy.
He concentrated on the jerking body beneath him, filling her cunt with hot, hard thickness so fast her breathing became loud and feverish. His cock bombarded her with fiery fat meat, so filling and satisfying that she couldn't even get her mouth open to express her gratitude.
From her cunt oozed juice, coating her lips until they were bright. Her melon-shaped breasts, out of the leather, bounced high as he screwed her. His forays into her torrid vault sent tingles up his cock to his balls and out his loins.
He began streaming sweat. It poured off his body onto hers. It seemed to sharpen her passion. He fucked hard and fast. She answered his hard fucking by throwing her body up to his, screwing her moist cunt on his invading head with the pulpy soft wet fruit of her womb.
He blasted into her until her whole body trembled. It began to weaken beneath him. Her eyes became vacant. Great gasps broke from her. She came.
Groaning and hunching harder to catch up, he started to feel a paralysis in his own loins.
His semen burst from him, dousing the fire of her cunt. He withdrew his big cock and let it dribble white pearls on the glossy straps of the labia spreader. It had been christened.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mike trained his binoculars on the fluffy balls of pink cotton candy sprouting like bouquets of flowers from the oblong holder. The jacketed concessionaire held it high as he started into the maze of screaming children.
For a few moments, he indulged himself in this visual delight, remembering his own childhood, his love of the circus.
Back to business, he moved the glasses around the three rings of the arena. The clowns were performing in one ring and the Dentinis in another. In the center ring, Clara, Clarence and Celia-three Indian elephants-went through their paces, eliciting squeals and screams from the spectators.
Mike aimed the glasses skyward, slowly inspecting the network of ropes and guidelines high above the arena. Suddenly, something caught his attention. One of the main guidelines to the trapezes seemed slack, not nearly as taut as it should be.
Just as he lowered his glasses, the clowns left the ring and the ringmaster, in his echoing voice, announced the next act, the exciting high trapeze artists, the Daring Dubliners.
Swirling their capes of blue, lined with gold, the Dubliners entered the arena from the main gate. No time to waste!
Mike rushed across the sawdust of the center ring, reaching the ringmaster's side just as Colonel Paulmann was stepping out of the glow of the orange spotlight.
"What's wrong, Mr. English?" Colonel Paulmann asked, arching his eyebrows. He started peeling off his white gloves.
"One of the trapeze lines has been tampered with!" Mike said.
"So the saboteur hasn't been napping after all. I figured he'd show his hand again," the ringmaster said.
"He's sick, whoever he is," Mike said. "It's a long drop from those trapezes. He might've caused the death of all three of those girls."
"I'll delay the act until the roping has been secured," the ringmaster said.
Fifteen minutes later, Mike was watching the three Daring Dubliners perform high above the sawdust. The trapezes had been secured. The crowd never suspected how close the beautiful young performers had come to death.
As he watched them flying through the air, their marvelous young bodies even more beautiful as they performed, Mike lit a cigarette. He relaxed, indulging himself in his second favorite past-time-sexual daydreaming. No longer earthbound, he balanced himself on the ball of one foot as his trapeze swayed high above the crowd. Across an expanse of air stood the three Daring Dubliners on a platform; they awaited his signal to begin the act.
His leg muscles bulged against his close-fitting black tights as he made a trial run, swinging casually and smoothly from one trapeze to another, across open air, oblivious to the dizzy heights.
The Dubliners watched, smiling, as he completed his practice run. His eyes sought out the beautiful face of Amber and drifted down her body. It jolted him to see her stroking her body, running her forefinger in long sweeps up the protuberant mound of her cunt.
The crowd went wild now as she peeled away her flesh-toned tights and proudly displayed her gorgeous golden naked body, framed by the trapeze. Her strawberry blond hair cascaded downward as she wrapped her shapely legs and strong ankles around the ropes of the trapeze. She began to sway it softly.
His turn to respond. Shrill female shrieks struck the air as he took off his tights. His cock reared out like a mighty pole before him. Gripping the ropes of his trapeze, he slid down it and took a strong hold with his feet, letting his body spill downward.
The crowd sighed.
Spotlights played across Amber's shimmering golden body as it swayed in a smooth cadence. Her thigh muscles rippled in golden strands as her body accommodated the tension of suspension from the trapeze. Even better contoured because of the strain placed upon them, her beautifully long legs, entwined in the ropes of the trapeze, flashed patches of succulent tan flesh.
Her body seemed to be stretching toward him as their two trapezes swang closer and closer. Heads in the audience moved to and fro in synchrony with the oscillating trapezes that brought the two performers nearer and nearer.
Snap! Her hands broke loose from the trapeze. She spiraled through air, her golden body's beauty caught in the spotlight. Not a whisper broke from the audience.
He caught her in his strong hands, swinging her body in a high arch until she landed safely behind him on the platform.
The trapeze returned and he landed beside her, embracing her. His body merged into hers as the house lights died. The act was over for the crowd ... but not for him.
In the few minutes that the house lights were dimmed, as the audience hummed like insects below, wanting to see what they were doing, he buried his cock up her, wiggling his hips as he adjusted his hammer just the way he wanted it in her juicy, warm vaginal channel. It closed and clutched around the hard rod up it. The presence of the invisible audience of thousands below, shrouded in blackness, increased his excitement. It was a kind of reverse voyeurism.
He only felt; he couldn't see. He felt her hot breath and her furnace-hot cunt coiled around his rampant cock. He felt the strong muscles of her thighs as she stood on tiptoes to meet his thrusts. He felt her body's firm ripeness explode in grasping heat waves around his invading cock.
Her tan, melon-like tits bursting from her body mashed into his chest as he pumped hard cock up her.
He pushed it in and out of her steadily; her cunt slithered over his rough pole.
"Climb up me!" he commanded.
"But...."
His arms wrapped around her and hoisted her up his body as she coiled her legs around him. He held each of her strong ass cheeks in the palms of his hand as she clung to him, her arms banded around his body. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, he began ramming her onto his cock, rolling her body to whatever angle he wanted it, relishing each twist and turn.
He was in complete control. She supplied the sound track. From her flowed a virtual litany of gasps and sighs. Her sounds were very liquid and very female. Her vagina became a smooth corridor, adjustable to whatever demands his cock placed upon it.
Hot wet lust invaded his crotch.
His cock emitted utterly obscene slurps as he fired its hard, knobby head hard up her soft young cunt. Her ass cheeks in his hands acted as springs, sending her plummeting back onto his pole....
Mike snapped back into reality, amazed by his own wanderings of fantasy, and watched the Dubliners, the real, in-the-flesh ones, perform. Again he noticed how sweet and fresh Angel was. Although the youngest member of the trio, she performed with a skill that matched, if it didn't exceed, that of her older sisters.
Always a leg man, Mike particularly liked her legs. They were extremely long and sensuously tapered. As she stretched herself up on her toes on the bar of the trapeze, artfully displaying those beautiful gams to the dazzled crowd below, Mike drifted off into another delicious fantasy.
This time he was wearing the clown costume and his face was painted like a flower with a red light in its center, the bulbous red nose.
Together, he and Angel, in powder blue tights, danced in a woodlands opening, a natural arena painted ivory by the moon's glow. Deep, deep in the woods. Nearby rang the musical sounds of a waterfall.
The moonlight illuminated in a silvery patina her healthy, blossoming young body as she pirouetted before him. A tall blond dancer painted in the cool yellow of the moon.
"Silly old clown!" she teased. "You can't have me!" Her mouth pouted, incensing him, and she swirled away on her toes. A teasing nymphet.
"I only want to...."
"I know what you want," she said in the manner of a worldly little girl. "Don't you think I know what you want?"
But when he whipped out his huge cock, nearly as red as his nose, she stopped her antics.
"What's that?" she asked, barely able to disguise her excitement
"It's my magic wand, little girl!"
She drew nearer, prancing toward him in eager swirls.
"May I touch it?" she asked. "It's hot!"
She touched his quivering stalk as if it were a tender spring flower, cooling its heat with her soft hands. "What's it for?" she asked.
"It's a magic wand that sends you into another world," he said.
"How?" she asked, gripping it, doing to it what came naturally-stroking it, up and down, caressing its swollen bag, marveling at its mushrooming head.
"It wants to be put in your treasure box," he said.
"Well," she said, "why don't you put it there?"
Eagerly, he peeled away her blue-powder tights. But not too fast. He loved to feast on the sight of her young body, so smooth, so unblemished, inch by inch as he uncovered it. A proud young body that was allowing his invasion only because he possessed a magic wand.
In the nude, she stood proudly before him. Her lovely strawberry blond pubic hair formed a rich crown around her virginal slit.
"Spread your legs apart, little girl," he said softly.
She complied, excited, knowing that soon he would be entering her treasure box.
"Now don't be frightened," Tie said. He guided his cock under the arch of her legs, between her well-developed young thighs, batting his huge tool to and fro against the silky walls of her legs, just experimenting. His cock vibrated wildly. It was hard, like a steel girder under her. He lifted, pulling her body up with his cock.
"This is fun!" she squealed. "I'm on a see-saw!"
When he let her down, he saw that dew had gathered on the blond down of her Venus mound. It glistened. Her virginal, pinkish nipples had become twin peaks in the darker lakes of her aurioles, rippled like water by the puckered skin.
"Will you kiss my titties before you play with my treasure box?" she asked.
He used both hands to feed her lovely little pillow into his mouth, stroking it in with great tender care. It was so soft it made his tongue seem rough and hairy. Swirling around the delicious globe, he tasted it wholly. Then he teased the firm little nipple, hardening to his tongue's bathing.
She squealed, shoving more tit into his mouth. He tried to swallow it, that huge mars hm allow-so sweet, so superbly soft.
While he sucked first one tit and then the other, giving them a sheen from his attentions, she playfully draped her hair, titillating him, around his shoulders, binding him to her with her golden tresses.
"Your wand's vibrating!" she said.
"It's anxious to be inside your treasure box," he said, keeping up their game as he paused from his wonderful picnicking.
Before he could clamp himself back on her spongy tits, springing out to him in their newly discovered excitement, she stroked her hand up the length of his throbbing cock, from its hairy base to its mammoth, red glans. To her, his outsized cock was a marvelous new toy.
While she played with his powerful pecker, he inched a forefinger into her wet, young cunt, probing. She froze, her eyes iced in passion, her hand falling limp, when he first touched her clitoris.
She was as untouched as a virgin stretch of forest.
Slowly, loving the deepening passion he saw in her eyes and seeing the sigh forming on her ripe lips, he rubbed that little rosebud. Slick and rubbery. Cherry.
The sigh burst from her in a long, trailing ribbon.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh ... Mike!"
The awareness that comes only once in a lifetime crossed her face. She was becoming a woman. Slowly he was making her one.
He inched in another finger, teasing her slithering clit with more skin until she was squirming. Her wetness drowned his fingers in joy juice.
Carefully, he folded her backward until she was supine on the forest floor. She arched her body forward for him. Forming three fingers into a tough, torpedo-like penis, he entered her again.
She jerked, opening her green eyes.
"I ... for a moment I thought you'd put your wand into me, Mike ... please hurry."
He ground his fingers around, expanding the humid walls of her vagina, burrowing deeper, too, preparing her for the gigantic invasion about to come.
Dripping pre-seminal fluid, his cock seemed to know it was about to taste cherry. It was growing impatient, its silent fury evident in the purple-red glow of the head, so turgid the coronal edge was extremely thickened.
He extracted his fingers.
Bending forward, he planted his lips on her sweet mouth, which opened wide for him, sending his tongue forward as he guided his huge, seasoned cock between her legs.
His idea was to cushion that powerful entry with a deep, hard kiss. Her tongue, at first unsure, soon was entwined in his. Their tongues embraced as lovers now as he touched the wet lips of her slash with his torrid bludgeon.
She jerked, feeling the heat of his colossal pecker's head.
As their mouths mashed together and their tongues matched thrusts, he slowly and carefully slid his cock into her cunt. Its tightness squeezed at him, not wanting to give, but finally giving. He pushed upward, wanting to pop her hymen as quickly as possible.
She groaned.
"It hurts!" she cried, freeing her mouth from his.
"Anything worthwhile does," he said.
Teased by her tightness, his cock had grown thicker. He felt its hardness pressed inside her, filling her completely.
He moved in deeper. Her eyes closed in pain and her body shrank from him. But he had gone too far to stop. She was a helpless doll in his clutches.
Into her he drove, almost to the hilt. He felt her hymen give. Bright red blood oozed from around his inward-riding cock. A red lubricant for his giant piston.
"Please hurry ... I can't bear it!"
Her blondness and her pain only increased his lust.
The big shaft of his cock filled her cunt, plumbing its depths. He saw pain leave her face. Slowly it filled with joy, beginning to love the long cock that so crudely was invading her body.
Her body began to respond, too, squirming beneath the penetrating piledrives that sent his meaty rod far up her sexy, wet pocket. From a natural instinct, she began to fuck back with a circling motion, her buttocks rising slightly to help.
He pumped, making her sigh and shiver. Her naked breasts swung to and fro before him.
Lunging forcefully, he sought to satisfy the fire in his own balls. He ground his tremendously large cock hard up her now-sticky gash that had been a tight, unexplored pocket of flesh just minutes before. Now it was a warm, active and wet sleeve seasoned under fire.
"I love it, Mike ... I never felt anything like this! My body feels as though it's shaking apart in pleasure."
"Do you think you're coming!"
"Yes ... yes I do."
Again and again he drove into her, slitting open that lovely cherry. Her nails clawed into his back in gratitude. He didn't even notice the warm streams of blood down his back, his own christening.
The humid walls of her vagina stretched open for his cock and clutched around it, massaging its throbbing length. She was dousing it with love.
Inspired, he whipped in and out of the warm, pulsing lips of her cunt, its lips spread, its golden pubic hairs dewy, until she was moaning constantly. To the drumming of his hard pecker she responded in a halfdelirious, feverish offering up of the last dregs of her virginity.
Digging into her deeper and deeper, his cock had become a massive tongue of fire that ignited other fires. Her eyes blazed with her lust, a new kind of lust, his gift to her. Her body glowed.
Her muscularly voluptuous body writhed beneath him, his prisoner. A willing one.
Suddenly, like a motor turned on, her body began to hump his. He relaxed, letting her pump up to his fully risen cock. She did it expertly, wrapping all that young cunt up the length of his dork, skinning on to it with loud slurps. She was a quick learner, slapping her crotch up to his with a sinuous force that amazed him and incensed him.
Swiftly, he pressed her back, her face looking first puzzled and then pleased, as he jerked into her violated, gaping gash violently. This time he kept exploring into her until he felt that telltale quake. Her first.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh ... what's happening to me? I can't bear it!"
She gushed with her orgasm, trying to drown his body, a shrill sound of pleasure streaming from her throat.
He'd never heard a cherry so ecstatic. But then it had been a while since he'd had a cherry. They were becoming rare-almost extinct for a man his age.
He strained, his own breath labored, to relieve his own aching balls. He kept jarring her body, anxious to come.
Again she came, smiling all the way.
He literally plummeted into her now. At last he blew his balls. Far into her he sent waves of come, far-flying jets up that sweet young cunt.
"That's some wand!" she exclaimed.
Mike lit a cigarette, re-entering reality.
After climbing down from the trapezes, amidst the cheers and applause of the crowd, the Daring Dub-liners left the arena and formed a cluster near Mike, holding a sisterly conference. They hesitated for a moment, and then headed toward him.
Amber, the oldest, spoke up. "We just want to thank you, Mike, for saving our lives."
He exhaled cigarette smoke. "I'm afraid you're giving me too much credit. I just spotted a slack guideline. I'm sure you would have detected it yourselves before your act."
"We might have, but then again we might not have," April said. "If we hadn't, we might not be here. You see, our act is about the only one in this country that doesn't use nets."
Amer's eyes flashed with excitement. Something seemed to have occurred to her and she seemed hardly able to constrain herself. She blurted it out. "Why don't you have dinner and drinks with us tonight?"
"Well...."
"Please, pretty please," Amber said. "It'll be one way we can repay you."
"Oh, okay," Mike said.
"We're staying at the Holiday Manor Motel," April cooed just before they waltzed back to their dressing room. "See you around eight o'clock."
CHAPTER FIVE
As he hurried up the hall of the luxurious Holiday Manor Motel toward their room, Mike wondered if the exciting Dubliners were as sexually liberated as they appeared.
The nearer he got to Room 216 the more aroused he became, indulging himself in a variety of sexual fantasies involving himself and the luscious sisters.
Even before he reached the door, he saw the brown square of motel stationery pinned to it. Pausing, he read the message: "Mike-we're in the motel swim pool. Come on out and cool off with us."
Mike reached the swim pool just in time to see the Dubliners, one by one, dive into the clear blue oval. It was breathtaking. Sketchy black bikinis showed off their gorgeous bodies even more alluringly than their circus tights. Watching them pose as they flexed their thigh and leg muscles before diving sent hot flashes up his cock. Then splashdown, not one but three times. Bare skin met blue water. As they stroked through the water, their bodies performed beautifully.
Taking a comfortable seat under a canvas umbrella by the poolside, Mike lit up a Winston and watched them, as his hard-on gathered momentum.
Splashing and laughing, the girls formed a floating flower, a kind of lily, with a strawberry blond center and shimmering tan petals as they stretched out their long legs and wiggled their toes. The water lily revolved as the girls' voices, sensuous and playful, rang out in the night. No one was beside the pool except Mike, so he fully indulged himself as spectator, stroking his aroused cock as he feasted upon the water ballet.
Suddenly the exotic flower stopped revolving and sank beneath the blue surface, as if it had never existed. The pool's surface was quiet and unruffled.
Mike's eyes scanned the blue water where pools of light stood in shimmering patches from the spotlights.
A head emerged in a joyous splash near him. "Mike!" April sang out.
Then another head popped up, the gorgeous, laughing face of Amber. "Mike English!" she shouted.
The third head, Angel's, broke the blue surface between her sisters. Her face dripped tears of water. "Hey, Mike-o!"
He felt most welcome.
April climbed up the chrome ladder out of the pool, streaming water. She smoothed back the hair from her lovely face, and, running her long fingers along her hips, adjusted her bikini. Giving him an eyeful of bod, she headed his way. Gorgeous, low-slung sex. She was young; she didn't know just how sexy she really was, so her movements still held a naivete, a charm lacking in the practiced posturing of a more sophisticated woman.
She walked with a natural grace, the muscles of her bare legs beating against her water-smooth skin. Droplets of water still clung to her tan skin. Her young cunt lay in a sulky coil beneath the satin black cover of the bikini. Just barely restrained, her exquisitely cupped tits pressed against the single narrow strap of the string bra, a miracle of design, since it managed to hold its bounty and display it beautifully without spilling it.
"We'd almost given up on you," April said, coming up to him.
"Sorry," he said. "I got held up at the office. Business."
"Swim?" she asked.
"I didn't bring my trunks," he said.
Mike watched her eyes fall to his fly, then pull away.
The others, Angel and Amber, presented themselves, their sleek young bodies wet like nylon, smooth and young and trim. They seemed to be parading before Mm.
"How about a drink?" he asked, catching sight of a waiter passing along the edge of the far side of the pool.
"Well ... just one," April said. "A frozen daiquiri would be refreshing. We don't drink much when we're working. Have to stay in shape."
You stay in shape all right, baby. That shape's enough to make a drooling idiot out of any man.
"What about you Angel ... Amber, want a drink?" he asked.
"I'll have a sloe gin fizz," Amber cooed. "I'll take lemonade-straight," Angel said.
She's a cool one, that Angel. Cool, and probably cherry. With a virgin's arrogance.
Mike shouted out the order to the waiter, and while they waited for him to return with their drinks, Mike amused the girls with a Playboy party joke.
Amber and April laughed but Angel only blushed, not meeting his eyes.
"Would you like to see our new routine?" April asked, her eyes twinkling.
"Here?" he asked, somewhat puzzled.
"Sure!" she said.
"But don't you need your equipment?" he said.
"We're wearing it!" April quipped.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," he said. "I don't see any trapezes or high wires out here."
Amber giggled. "It's a new act, Mike. We're going on the nightclub circuit-with something a little different. April nearly got killed in a bad spill in Memphis last month. That started us to thinking we might be in the wrong business. Now, after that horrible near-accident today and what happened to the clown, we've made up our minds to split the circus."
Mike felt a loyalty toward Colonel Paulmann, but he also felt a kind of fatherly responsibility toward the girls. They'd be wise to make a switch.
"That's a smart move," he said.
"Besides," April chimed in, "we like to have fun. The circus act is awfully restricting. We've got to be as disciplined as professional ballplayers, yet we don't draw anywhere near their salaries. We have to practice hours every day to keep our routines smooth...."
"Come on," Amber said. "Let's practice our new act."
Mike even forgot to smoke as he watched them. Back and forth before him at the pool's edge they performed an extremely physical and sensuous gymnastic act. Splits. Cartwheels. Somersaults. They even walked on their hands.
Their performance revealed in gorgeous detail the superbly trained, silky smooth muscles of their supple young bodies; every twist and turn of their bodies molded their muscles in quick sensuous friezes against their fine tans, framed in black by the stretching, straining lines of the black bikinis.
His cock burst hard against his fly as they swirled before him.
"How do you like it?" April asked, breathing hard, her body beautifully flushed, as she rested, hands on hips.
"It's provocative," he said. "You mean it's sexy?"
"Damn right," he said.
Amber giggled. "He's not lying, either, April. See." April's and Amber's eyes fixed on his bulging gly. It panted against its fabric barrier.
"The poor man's in pain," April teased.
"Oh, you two are disgusting," Angel said suddenly, sneering at them, not liking the drift of her sister's conversation. She hurried off.
"Don't pay any attention to her, Mike," April said, sitting beside him on one of the redwood lounges, as Amber closed in from the other side. "She's just...."
"Cherry," he said.
"Cherry," they said together, laughing.
April's hand crawled up his leg. His cock beat strongly against his fly. She touched it. It sprang up harder.
"Oh, it's huge and hot," April said, delight in her voice. "Feel it, Amber." They're liberated all right.
Amber -edged closer. He watched her shapely thighs tighten and the calves of her beautiful legs form into cords as she bent forward, her lips moist. With two fingers she formed a sphincter, clamping it softly about the protuberant cock glans inside his fly. Up and down she ran her finger clamp.
"It's about to burn through his pants!" she said.
"Free it!" April coaxed.
Amber slid her hand from his aroused pecker's bulge and teasingly started the zipper up its track. His patience ended abruptly.
Shoving aside her hand, he quickly zipped open his fly. His cock popped out, a furious red stalk. Their eyes flashed astonishment.
"It's gigantic," April said, awe in her voice.
"Let's go to our room," Amber said, hypnotized by his prick, her hands feeling for it, anxious to see if it was real. She touched and gasped and then began to jack him off.
"You'll spoil the fun, Amber," April said.
"She's right," Mike said, pulling his hard cock from her soft hands with a tinge of regret. He put it back inside his pants and followed the shapely young nymphets to their double room in the motel.
While they disappeared into the bathroom, trailing promises of a big surprise for him when they reappeared, he undressed and stretched out on one of the huge round beds in the main bedroom. He noticed immediately that the door connecting the two bedrooms was closed and that the low hum of rock music was coming from behind it.
Angel. She's in there nursing her virginity. Nice. I'd like to pop that cherry.
The drone of hairdryers started up in the bathroom. Then Mike heard the click of high heels, always an exciting sound to him. But he wasn't at all prepared for the sight that met his eyes when the door -edged open and April and Amber re-entered the room.
As Amber scratched the air with her long fingernails and snarled like a cat, April snapped a bullwhip at her. Amber cowered and retreated across the room, her body lusciously confined in form-fitting leopard skin tights.
They pretended not to see Mike as they continued their act. Snap. SnarL Snap. Snarl. Both costumes teased Mike's already torrid sex instincts. Black boots, with sharp heels, hugged April's legs up to the calves, accenting their shapely lines, while white "Jungle Jim" shorts proclaimed the desirability of her gorgeously contoured ass and svelte thighs encased by the onionskin fit of the costume.
Black leather straps that crossed over her delectable tits, hiding each pink nipple, seemed to be part of a harness, the rest of which lay hidden beneath the shorts. From a domed jungle hat, April's long, glimmering strawberry blond hair flowed almost to her tiny waist. Each time she danced forward snapping the whip, her shiny hair swirled up blond curls.
Amber's velvety soft, tan skin became even more appetizing in the tiger-skin tights which gave her a sensual, animal-like appeal, a sinuous sensuality. In the costume she became a defiant, exotic she-cat, her movements quick and smooth and fluid, costuming a primitive wildness. Low-cut heels of a fine leather, black to match the black stripe in her costume, were the perfect holsters for her long, sleek legs, as polished as marble. As she twisted and turned, trying to escape the tangy bite of the whip, her legs flashed tan in the light. The tight fit of the tiger skin defined her bouncy butt much better than a bikini because it showed its expanse and highlighted details: the soft shadow between her firm buttocks, the gentle slope of her back, the beauty of her backbone.
Again, April snapped the whip and Amber, still not subdued, perched defiantly atop a thick hassock, one of several in the room.
As Mike watched, so enthralled by the act that he was only peripherally aware of his stiff, quivering cock rearing out from his boxers, April began to unreel the whip in long, rolling snaps, seeming to hypnotize the she-cat. Amber became playful, rolling over on her perky round butt and kicking her heels high in the air as she stretched out her luxuriously sexy tan gams. In time to the snap of the whip she flashed her beautiful, long legs, so shapely Mike began to salivate. Now he was aware of the dynamite stick of his prick, panting from his loins. It commanded attention.
While Amber eyed her lustfully, April jerked the whip still and screwed off its long, hard rubber handle. Amber bolted up-right again, smiling, as she crossed her lovely, polished bronze legs and played one against the other, calf slicing into calf, in a leg dance that was mesmerizing Mike.
Zip. April peeled off her white shorts, exposing the lovely tan patches of her butt, twin mounds of hard, delicious female flesh. The black straps of the leather harness cut across those tan mounds in tight reins that heightened their lusciousness.
Aboutfacing so that he could see, April fitted the phallic whip handle into a round recepticle in the harness front so that from her pubic triangle projected a hard, black cock at least ten inches long. The phallic monster seemed totally incompatible with her voluptuous, all-female body, so made for fucking.
To add to the devastating effect, April stroked the synthetic cock with her long, tapering fingers, nails flashing pink, as she tested its strength, while Amber moistened her wide lips, her eyes fastened on the unusual dildo.
Clever, Damn clever act.
As April advanced, Amber's green eyes widened more. One hand disappeared behind her, probing, then finding. Her tiger skin fell limp before her as she released the zipper. She skinned it away, freeing her nice hard young tits, the nipples as alert as sentinels. Her strawberry blond cunt hair stood out as she rose, naked except for her high heels. Erect. Shapely. A very desirable feline.
The two women drew closer to each other, drawn by the magic evoked by their roles and by the introduction of the erotic, almost evil-appearing black dildo.
Amber squirmed in anticipation.
Mike watched April's lovely young buttocks tighten up, dimples in her ass, restrained by the same straps that held the synthetic cock, as she prepared to inch into Amber.
Amber's hands fondled her labia, opening them, until the pink eye of her inner cunt appeared, glistening with lubrication. Her long legs, muscular in the thighs, splayed apart, also readying themselves for the entry of the long, thick whip handle.
Mike's cock streamed pre-seminal runoff as he witnessed the closing of the gap between the two sumptuous women. The whip handle became shorter and shorter as it sank into Amber's welcoming cunt.
For a moment, Mike visualized how the act would look on a stage with the proper props, background and lighting. In silhouette, the black-booted figure of the hunter with "his" gigantic black phallus laying claim to the curvaceous young she-cat would have a terrifically erotic effect.
Mike noticed that the volume of rock music blaring from the transistor radio in the next room had been lowered; Angel had retreated from her brazen sisters, but their madcap antics were probably bringing out the voyeurism in Angel. He suspected that right now she was peeping through the keyhole, watching everything that was going on.
He hoped so. It might excite that sweet young cherry cunt. He stood to be the main beneficiary.
Smack.
The gap between Amber and April closed with a finality as the long dildo buried itself firmly all the way up that twisting young body before it.
Mike loved to see woman loving woman.
Amber threw back her long blond hair, arching her lovely throat so that the thin, sexy lines across it stood out. From her rich red mouth came the most satisfying peal of pleasure he'd ever heard as April ground the huge dildo around and around in her. A cunt full up and satisfied.
They continued to wiggle and grind. Tan body twisting hard against tan, blond hair flailing, grunts of pleasure. Mostly show, but it seemed real enough to Mike.
The girls separated, looking toward Mike, whose cock stood high, streaming clear fluid. "Some act!" he said.
"That's our real act, with a few more embellishments," April said, her voice business-like. "The pool-side routine was just a warmer-upper."
"I didn't know the night club circuit had gotten so liberated," he said, stroking his cock, seeing their obvious interest
"Well, it isn't exactly a night club circuit, more like private clubs," April said. The dildo, aglow with Amber's cunt juice, shone obscenely in the light. Such a strange device to be protruding from such a young, delicious woman. She seemed oblivious to it now, however. "The pay's fantastic, and we don't have to mingle with the customers ... just do our thing twice night and collect all that lovely greenery."
"Look at him!" Amber cooed, advancing toward Mike. "He's as long as the dildo-and thicker."
"I want him first!" April said. "It's my turn to be satisfied." They descended upon him, girlish and playful.
His eyes fed on their succulence. Amber's wet, matted cunt still bore evidence of massive violation, the labia spread wide. Her thighs were shiny from her exertions.
April's body also wore a fine film of perspiration that made it look slick and shiny. Sensuous and wet. That fat dildo bounced as she swayed her hips, making her utterly feminine body doubly enticing.
Mike smiled. His body tingled in anticipation, his cock stiffened until it was so hard he could've struck a kitchen match on it. It always amazed him how he found himself in the middle of such titllating sex adventures. He wondered what Angel was doing behind the door. Rubbing herself? Was her young cunt oozing cherry juice?
April unscrewed the glittering dildo, throwing it to the floor. She was starting to take off her black harness when Mike stopped her, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
"Leave it on, honey," he said. "That damn thing's sexy!"
"Can you get to my cunt?"
"Hell yes...."
"But what am I going to do while you two are balling it up?" Amber complained, a pout on her face as she curled up against a fat pillow on the bed, stretching her long legs before her. She caught Mike's appreciative glance toward them.
"Play with yourself," April suggested.
"That's no fun," Mike answered for her. "Why don't you initiate Angel into your act? This is as good a time as any."
"We want to," Amber said, whining, "but she's holding back on us. She's still cherry. Still afraid of sex."
"I guess I could change that," Mike said.
"Would you, Mike?" April asked, as if he'd come up with the answer to all their problems, when in fact he was merely coming up with a plan to vent his lusts.
But then the door bust open and Angel, in a see-through negligee, charged into the room.
"I guess I'll decide who initiates me into the new act," she said.
Mike chuckled good-naturedly. "She's right. Let her decide. How are you going to work her into the act anyway?"
"She'll be the second big cat in the act," April explained, also sitting on the bed. "Only she'll get balled in her lovely virginal kittenish ass by the great white hunter. Eventually, of course, we'd like to make the roles interchangeable. That way there'll be less likelihood of any of us getting bored."
The truth began to dawn on Mike. Angel was a cherry all right, but not where he'd thought.
A thoughtful look crossed Angel's face.
"Well...." Angel mused, "since I'm going to be screwed back there," she said, shaking her nice little rump, "I guess I'd rather be christened by Mike than by an ugly old plastic dildo."
"That's cool thinking, sis," Amber said, "We'll use gel so it won't hurt so much."
While Amber applied a coating of gel to Angel's lovely young upturned ass, April bathed Mike's furiously red poker in the same cool, soothing jelly, swathing its huge swollen glans, which she admired as she worked.
"Ready?" Mike asked.
"I ... I guess so," Angel said. She'd combed back her fragrant strawberry blond hair so that it forked down her satiny young back toward that lovely dark cleavage between those taut cheeks that he'd soon be using as cushions as his hard body buffeted long, thick English cock up that cherry backhole.
April stroked her fingers up the length of his cock.
"It's mine," April said, "after you've finished with Angel. Promise?"
"I promise," he said, his voice husky, his control evaporating as he viewed the lovely target before him. That hard round butt was as beautifully contoured as a piece of sculpture, yet giving and soft and capable of bringing great pleasure to his steel-hard cock.
"I've got seconds," Amber said.
Amber placed a small pillow under Angel so that her lovely tan butt angled up just right for cock entrance. While April and Amber watched lustfully, he pushed forward on his hairy haunches, admiring the studded cock strap around the wide expanse of his hot, turgid tool, before he guided his pecker between her spread buttocks. Upon contact, she flinched. Craters of delicious skin opened across the smooth surface of her buttocks.
"You're sizzling hot," Amber pined, looking on.
Unable to control herself, April quickly wet her fingers and touched his poker-red cock just as he lurched forward. April squealed lewdly as Angel moaned from the impact of his entry. The touch of her fingers boosted his excitement as he lodged two inches of fat, torrid cockhead into the jellied but rubber-tight sphincter of Angel's sweet young ass, as virginal as cherry pussy.
Her tail quivered as he skewered her.
Farther he drove in, aware of April's and Amber's attention, as he initiated their lovely young sister. They seemed remotely jealous. Jealous and avidly interested.
She was so utterly tight but willing, working hard to open for him, that he experienced the same sweet sensation he had when sawing on cherry pussy. Or the same as he remembered it; it had been a long time since he'd deflowered a virgin of any kind.
As he shoved in more cock, he struck that network of sensitive nerve tissue high up her hole. Suddenly she trembled all over, up and down the length of his stalk, like electric jelly.
"I love it ... I love it," she shouted.
Upward and backward she rammed her hot sexy bottom on his dry spear. Harder she came at him, nearly spilling him out of position. But then he took command, grabbing her smooth hips with both hands. Forcefully, he thrust the last two inches of his mammoth panting cock up her, driving her to the bed. He felt as though he'd driven through to her kidneys. He'd disappeared into her. Around his huge cock lay tight sucking tissue, warm and tantalizing.
"I'm so full!" she screamed. "It feels so good."
As he gyrated, bouncing rhythmically against her buttocks, he felt a warm, wet tongue invade his ass, licking, slurping in synchrony with his assault. April? Amber?
April. Because now he saw Amber on her knees, so that her weight didn't fall on Angel, straddling her sister. Facing him, Amber displayed her lovely tart tits as one hand curled into her cunt. In long, graceful plunges, she fingerfucked herself before his eyes, pausing from time to time to lick the pussy juice from her fingers. It was so thrilling he slowed his thrusts into Angel, reaching for Amber's hard, young boobs. But each time she glided back, escaping him, teasing him.
"Don't let up!" Angel cried. "I'm coming."
Mike tore his eyes from Amber and focused them back on the rocking rump that was rolling up and down his cock, taking every thick hard inch of it, giving it a hard, dry fuck that was shooting ecstasy into his balls.
Her tight, smooth ass gripped him tenaciously as he slid the fiery length of his fat erection in and out of the creamy, dry depths of her backhole. She began churning her buttocks in a silky cadence against his inriding pecker, sandwiching it between plush pods of succulent flesh, caressing it so lovingly it sent tingles up his loins.
The child-woman who was so expertly accepting the crude, large weapon in long sweeps up her butt swayed that beautiful bottom under his attack.
As he ass-fucked her, he thought of her face, now hidden from him; her large, emerald-green eyes, her wide, sensuous mouth, the sexy dimples that played in her cheeks. Doing so, he became more impassioned, sending piercing thrusts up her that caused her to quake from his lust.
"Ohhh...." she moaned. "You're splitting me apart."
He slowed up.
"But don't stop," she pleaded. "Please. Don't stop."
Reassured, he bore in faster, almost with a vengeance, giving her more and more of what she'd asked for, staffing hot, needy pecker into the hottest depths of her churning, demanding well. The naked globes of her buttocks quivered in delicious frenzy as he pistoned in.
The tidal wave of her eruption began; hot, licking, finger-like grasps of her muscles beat against the marble-like pole that invaded her, building up, ever building, until she was rocking like jello along the length of his stalk. In an absolute delirium, her speech incoherent, she rose wildly, plummeting time after time on that cock that she couldn't satisfy. It was whipping from her a wild, frantic orgasm.
Her pussy flowed, wetting the bed as her ass burned, but she madly sought deliverance.
Amber squealed, delighted with Angel's release-of passion.
Mike stack to his guns, keeping Angel's hips in line as best he could with his hands, as he bore the up and down smacks of her hot, dry, demanding hole-wide and red-as her come wet the bed.
"Geeeeeee!" she shrieked.
She collapsed forward, covering the pool of her own hot vaginal discharge.
When he pulled back, his cock popping out like a cork from a bottle, swollen fat and grown huge, Amber eased toward him. Her lusty red mouth opened wide, drool running freely, as she took the apple-big head of his cock.
His warm hands, itching for her tits, grasped them. Mashing each one into his palms, he relished their pulpy softness while she rode to and fro, slurping loudly on his inflamed cock.
April lay perpendicular to them, having retrieved the whiphandle dildo. She was sending it hard and fast into her gushing cunt, her eyes glazed, while Angel, spent by her ass-fucking, dozed, her face a mask of satisfaction, oblivious to the rich sounds of sex around her.
His cock glistened almost silvery in the light each time she slid up its length, revealing its stark power, to linger and suck on its massive, knobby glans, as shiny as a mirror.
He grew more excited, swimming in the graphic pleasure of her attentions, particularly the way her lips stretched and tightened in a delicious red band around his pink-white pole. She slithered her mouth to its furnace-hot knob and strolled around its tough corona with her playful, warm, wet tongue, a look of complete satisfaction on her face, while her super-soft hand clasped the base of his fully-risen cock, massaging it with circular turns as soft and titillating as velvet.
He was so hard his cock pressed urgently against the studded cock strap.
"Quit teasing," he snapped. "Suck, I mean really suck that cock!"
She nodded. "Sure. It's the loveliest, biggest lollipop I ever sucked."
With a dedication he'd seldom witnessed, she began to swallow up his immense cock, inch by inch, flooding it with warmth. Having reached a satisfactory length up his stalk, she propped herself into position with her hands and began to ride along its length, using her mouth as a slithering, caressing glove, torrid, wet, succulent, with just enough pressure to cause come to churn up in his balls. She sucked smoothly, with a measured cadence, coating his root with her effluvia.
Excited by his cock's itense heat and rigidity, she accelerated her mouthings, accepting more of his sausage, nearly choking at first from her efforts. She loved his cock, her fine white teeth nipping at his erection now and then to test its realness.
It was incredibly beautiful and exciting to see her mouth coasting along his saliva-sheathed bone, knowing that he filled her face with his tumescence. He flexed his loins in and out, taking command of the rhythm, firing his slab of manhood deeply into her face, past those red puckered lips, reveling in the look of astonishment of her face as she nearly choked from the pleasure of it.
Playfully, he poked out first her right cheek and then her left, with the swollen round head of his pecker seeming to burn red blotches, leaving his brand where he poked.
Her mouth fell ajar, limply accepting the increasingly hot jabs he stroked into its interior. , Then, as her eyes flared wide, he emptied his pearly ammunition into her throat. His loins jerked.
She gasped but drank it, smacking her lips, still in a state of disbelief, amazed by her own capacity.
"Thank you," she said hoarsely.
As he fell back, sated, on the bed inside the sleeping Angel, he was dimly aware that his work hadn't been completed.
Two very lively young nymphets hadn't yet reached orgasm. April was still pumping the black dildo into her cunt with a distant expression in her eyes, nearing orgasm. But synthetically. That rankled him.
While Amber showered, he inched across the bed, gently taking April by the hand, wresting the dildo from her.
"No!" she rasped.
"Yes."
He gazed with awe at the pink eye of her lovely blond cunt, opened wide by the dildo. It was deliriously wet and wanton. Her superbly muscled legs were spread-eagled for easy access. Eating pussy. The most gorgeous box lunch he'd seen for a long, long time.
Her split, slicing far up her belly, was flanked by silky blond hair. He bent his head to that intoxicating fountain, tenderly putting his tongue to its folds. She stiffened in pleasure.
"That's good!" she pined.
"Better than a whip handle," he said, burrowing in.
It was ripe, all female, as tasty as watermelon on a hot summer day. He lapped up her nectral flow as she wiggled. Her buttocks corded up beneath her, elevating her pussy toward his mashing, wet mouth licking her with fire.
He opened his mouth wide and pressed harder, sucking strongly as he scissored his tongue into that humid slash. Her moans seemed in synchrony with the urgent undulation of her body, caught in the web of lust, helpless before him.
Her tits, on silent springs, lunged forward, the nipples like arrows in the brown targets of her aurioles. Her entire body had awakened to the arousal he'd ignited.
Her lovely flat stomach reflected her fast breathing, a field of blond down rising and falling in hurried ecstasy.
His tongue sank in deeper, exploring until it found that erect little appendage high up in her red gash. Drawing his tongue across her clitoris, like a bow across violin strings, he sent her body into endless cascades of pleasure. Goose pimples broke across her thighs. Her mouth became dry. Her breathing came in deep rasps.
Her own hands fondled her hard young tits, somehow trying to divert some of that almost unbearable pleasure from below.
His cock, bent hard against the mattress, oozed pre-seminal liquid.
As he tickled her clit, he oscillated his mouth against the warmth of her cunt, soaking up its opulent female elixir.
He released his tongue from her clit, shoving it fearlessly hard up her hole. Then he licked outward, tasting her, savoring her maw.
As he emerged, he bent his lips to her labia as though he were kissing her mouth.
She nearly broke into a convulsion as he planted his hot lips more firmly against her labia. Impulsively, she wrapped her slender, silky legs, as smooth as glass, around his neck, pulling.
"Go back in!" she pleaded.
He complied, stabbing his tongue into her tunnel, immediately striking target-her enlarged clit. This time he showed no mercy, attacking it ruthlessly until her body was a mass of convulsions.
Her slippery lustbud kept trying to escape his tongue but always he recaptured it. Her nails scratched into his back as her fantastically alive body reeled in wave after wave of exhilaration from the orgasm that surged up from her cunt.
Not satisfied, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him madly with hot, lurid smacks.
For a flicker of time, he wondered if he could keep his promise to himself to bring them all to orgasm. Then his eyes focused on Amber watching them with smoky green eyes. Her succulent nude figure was framed in shadows in the doorway. His cock signaled "Go."
Cat-like, she came as he beckoned with his risen cock, fondling it as she eyed its hugeness.
He stretched back as she impaled herself on the bludgeoning bayonet between his loins. Her cunt was cool from a shower, cool and tight, as it slid snugly onto his anxious cock.
Onto his spear-like cock she tossed herself in long, slithering moves that sent the sleeve of her juicy, warm rift up the full length of his standard.
Her movements were quick and crisp.
Time after time she flayed him with her fragrant, grasping cunt, but her incensed efforts soon wore her down. Mike could see that she was tiring.
He pulled her into a kneeling position and wrapped his arms around her, then drove into her bronze body, holding onto her naked hips and pumping hard up that swampy cunt until the whole bed was rocking.
His knees dug furrows into the bed as he whipped in and out of her burning bush. Its soft inner walls clamped steaming cunt to his lust-thick shaft in a loving cadence.
Feverishly she clutched at him with her fingers as he rammed her. She flailed her head, spraying her strawberry blond hair. Her eyes were an opaque green, unseeing, as he balled her. She'd been waiting for a long time for his cock. She'd licked it. She'd watched it pleasing her sisters. Now it was her turn, and she was making the best of it.
The other girls, awakened by the hard pounding he was giving Amber, stared with large eyes. Excitement grew in them as they watched from opposite ends of the bed.
He slid his right arm under her sleek hips and coiled his forefinger up the hot crack of her ass, even as he balled the daylights out of her. When he inched in his finger, she squealed. But she began to loosen up.
The driving force of his body screwed her butt onto his awaiting finger each time he lurched into her. She was impaled both ways, her holes filled by hard spears.
The ecstasy became unbearable.
Her body seemed hardly able to restrain itself, hurling itself first onto his cock and then onto his finger.
Animal-like cries emptied from her as he increased his tempo, giving her a pounding two-way fuckdown. Perspiration oiled her body, making it more desirable. She exuded a musky, sexy fragrance.
She was all blond cunt. He was surrounded by blondness as her sisters watched. Angel played with her boobs, one in each hand as she stared at them, while April ran the dildo in and out of her grasping pink maw.
The whole bed shook from the orgy atop it.
"Now, baby, you're getting fucked!" he said, caught up in his own enthusiasm.
"God, I sure am," Amber said. "I sure am."
He felt her backhole opening, so he inched in two fingers for a tighter fit. She screamed out as she fell back, pleased with the fatter insertion.
Like an Indian riding a wild horse, she rode his cock and his fingers. Her whole beautiful tan body swayed drunkenly from one to the other. Her body trembled from the pleasure. It was taut and tense from the thrill of it.
As he watched her, his eyes shifting now and then to Angel and April, he concocted a new twist.
"April, put that dildo up Amber's ass while I'm fucking her. Just ease it in."
"No, Mike!" Amber said. "I can't take that huge thing!"
"Sure you can ... let me demonstrate. It's not any bigger than my dick."
His fingers flew out of her backhole like a cork out of a wine bottle.
Before she could protest further, he turned her long body around on the bed. Her hole was ringed with red where he'd entered. Slowly, he inched the hot head of his cock up that little firepit.
"God!" she panted.
He squeezed more of his heavy, rigidly pulsing organ up that vermillion recess. Her ass was as tight-fitting as virgin cunt. She was as cherry back there as Angel!
Her ass began to bounce, each cheek slapping against his swollen flesh as his prick rode in.
"Demonstration's over," he said abruptly. To tease her he slowly withdrew his cock. He wanted her ass dimple, tensing up, suffering the pains of withdrawal.
"But it's...."
"The dildo will be just as good, and I'll be fucking you up front where it counts," he said, feeling like a teacher explaining something to a class.
He beckoned to April.
"Just ease it in, honey," he said.
April obeyed.
At the same time that she put the whip handle up Amber's now well-drilled butthole, he lodged his cock up the strawberry blonde. Through the thin membrane between her cunt and her ass slit he felt the hard surface of the whip handle.
"Now, start sliding it up and down."
As Amber writhed in rapture, he set the rhythm, firing his powerful chunk of dick in when April exited with the dildo. In cock. Out dildo. Out cock. In dildo.
Amber was chained to the whipping pole of the two cocks, one real, the other artificial. She loved them both!
As April rammed the long tool up her sister's hole, her tits banged hard against Amber's body, adding still another erotic dimension. Amber was about to fuck herself to death on the two cocks and she was being teased to hell and back by the perk-pointed nipples of her sister's lunging breasts.
The whole scene had gotten to Angel. Unabashedly, she was cramming three fingers, tightened into a prong, up her cunt in lustful, hard strokes. Her body also wore a film of perspiration that gave it a slick, oiled look. Shadows flickered across her lithe body as she moved it sensuously onto the dildo of her own creation.
He sawed into Amber straight on. Prick and dildo juiced deeply in and out of the choice holes of her body. She was being amply rewarded for waiting for his cock.
The constant, deep impalement of the open, sticky front hole and the tight, dry backhole had filled her to the brim with sexual joy. He watched her titties bob and her hair fly as her excitement increased.
As he stabbed in harder, audaciously striking and teasing her clit time after time, her buttocks tightened and he felt her focusing interest on his cockhead.
"Pull out that dildo!" he shouted.
He wanted cunt the old-fashioned way now. The paced fucking up to now had worn away his patience. Her body was ripe for orgasm.
With a dedication born of need he drubbed her, spilling her back to the bed as her sisters watched in a kind of stupor. The stupor was induced by his ferocious entries. It was his turn to be the wild Indian.
He went after that thirsty, hot, twitching cunt as if it were the last one on earth. His body nailed hers to the bed with a finality on each hard, upward, flying stroke. His heavy, feverish-inflamed pole wanted deliverance. He hammered and tore and drove. Her body twisted and squirmed, a complete prisoner to his needs.
Then he felt it. In a delirious tremor, she came. Her body pumped up to his, riding out the last inch of joy.
He wasn't far behind. Straining until his body dripped sweat, he stabbed into her. Sperm rushed into her and gushed from her cunt in a pool around his imbedded prick.
He watched Amber's eyes open. Cool and green and satisfied. A smile was forming on her lips. A smile of thanks.
CHAPTER SIX
His brain felt smoky from all that sex and whisky the night before. Mike pushed aside the sheet and rose, heading for the refrigerator. He drank two glasses of cold orange juice and gobbled down a slice of boiled ham and a hard-boiled egg while he read movie reviews in The Courier.
The orange juice and food revived him. After a hot shower, he put on flesh clothes and his mesh-top summer shoes that kept his feet cool. Ready to get down to some nitty-gritty work: finding out who had loosened the guideline to the trapezes.
By the time he reached Convention Center, the huge modern clock atop the monolith in nearby Founder's square said: 10:15. It was already humid. The humidity hung like a wet blanket over the city. Temperature: 89. Another sizzler coming up.
He parked his Alfa Romeo and hurried into the Center. It was a lot different in the morning. No kids around. Activity, but of a different kind. Plodding and slow and uncolorful. No balloon venders around with their yellow and orange and red and blue bubbles bobbing above them. No sellers of cotton candy or monkeys on poles.
Instead men in drab, grey uniforms shoved push brooms, like huge tooth brushes, across the concrete tiers, collecting hundreds of pounds of garbage from the night before. Electricians tinkered with spotlights and tested them. Concession stand operators refilled cola vats and popped popcorn.
A few performers, pedestrian without their colorful costumes and makeup, stood around discussing in serious monotones new twists to their acts, while others ran through routines. The seams showed in the rehearsals-the mistakes and the grinding repetition needed to make an act appear smooth and easy.
Without its brass band, its gaily costumed and festooned performers and without the thrilling voice of the ringmaster, the circus seemed like some skeleton picked clean.
Mike stood along the sidelines, taking it all in. He consulted his notebook. He'd already underlined the name of the maintenance foreman, Jesse Urlander, but he hadn't yet been able to find Urlander to talk to him.
Interviewing Urlander's staff, checking with each man to see if anyone knew of anything suspicious that had happened when the circus was preparing for its evening performance the previous night, would be grinding, requiring hours of time, unless he was lucky. And that was un-likely. Also, he'd need to talk with Frank Goodall, the ex-Memphis police captain who was the circus' security chief. Maybe one of Goodall's men had noticed something that would be of value to Mike. He doubted it, but Mike had to exhaust every possibility.
The saboteur had shown his hand, defied the security ring, to strike again. Next time he might be successful and there'd be a death on Mike's conscience. He didn't want that. At this point Mike was certain of one thing: the line had been tampered with. It looked like an inside job.
"Hi!" someone said, behind Mike. A shrill voice.
Mike spun around. Nemo the clown was heading his way, a big red smile on his painted mouth. Trudging along like a big kid. Nemo was wearing makeup and his clown costume. Mike guessed he didn't feel comfortable in street clothes. The clown costume had been his camouflage for thirty-five years; he obviously didn't like to step out of it.
"What're you doing around so early?" Nemo asked.
"Nosing around."
Nemo have him a hard, probing look. "You ain't no representative of a firm wanting to buy the circus, are you?"
Mike lit a cigarette, studying the clown's distorted face. "No, Nemo ... I'm a private eye. I'm trying to find out who in the hell tampered with that trapeze line. Those girls could've been killed."
"I know," Nemo said sadly. "Who'd want to do that?"
"I think if we find out why we'll find out who," Mike said, studying the clown closely. He'd caught a flicker of fear in Nemo's big, glassy, liquid eyes, as large as marbles. Did he know something? Had someone tried to kill him?
"If you've seen anything fishy, Nemo," Mike said, 'I'd sure like to know about it ... by the way, where's Jesse Urlander? I want to talk with his maintenance staff."
"Jesse's out back, in the dressing area. Saw him a few minutes ago," Nemo said. "See you around."
Nemo shuffled off. His was a sad, Chaplin-like kind of walk. A thoughtful kind of walk. Mike wondered what was bothering him.
Mike found Jesse Urlander ten minutes later, a huge, barrel-chested guy with thinning reddish hair and bleached-out eyebrows supervising the painting of the tigers' cage.
"Jesse, I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes," Mike said. "Sure, Mr. English ... sure."
They walked to the main entrance. From the arena came the banal exchange of working men. The heavy aroma of popping corn drifted past them.
"I'll get to the point, Jesse ... I'm working as a private investigator for Colonel Paulmann. He wants me to find out who in the hell's trying to destroy his circus. That story we handed out yesterday was just a cover, although I don't want just everybody knowing what I'm doing."
Urlander nodded. His pastel blue eyes, washed out, betrayed nothing. He was the kind of man who spoke sparingly, Mike could tell, but what he said probably would be cogent.
Urlander blew his nose. "Hay fever...." He had anticipated Mike. "I checked with my men this morning, Mr. English, every one of them, about that guideline. I'll be damned if I could find out how it got fucked up."
"I want to talk with your men, too," Mike said. "Maybe you missed something I can pick up."
"Sure."
"Tell you what: I'll be in the ticket office." He handed Urlander a piece of paper. "These are the men who worked yesterday. You send them to me, one by one, as they're free."
Urlander looked over the list and folded it neatly before putting it into his shirt pocket. He hurried off. Mike watched his movements. He was a determined, sure man. Nothing wishy-washy or sentimental about Jesse Urlander.
It was nearly lunch time when Ted Howard, a small man with a pock-marked face, a man frail for such work, came into the ticket office and took a seat in front of Mike's desk.
He was the ninth employee Mike had interviewed. So far he'd come up with a fat zero. But Ted Howard was nervous. His hands betrayed a tremor and he kept wiping his brow with a blue bandana.
Mike struck fast and to the point: "You know something, Mr. Howard, don't you?"
The man squirmed, not meeting Mike's eyes. He blurted it out.
"I told Jesse, but he didn't seem to think it meant anything ... told me to forget about it. But, well, I guess since you've been hired by Colonel Paulmann to get to the bottom of all this trouble that, well, you ought to know what I saw. Might mean my job, though."
"If you help us get to the bottom of this trouble, Mr. Howard, it won't mean losing your job, I assure you. It'll mean a bonus."
"You don't know Jesse, Mr. English. He said for me to forget it, what I saw. Said that right hard. Said to forget what I saw. He don't like to be crossed. But I can't do that, forget what I saw, not in good conscience."
Mike lit a cigarette and offered Howard one. The maintenance worker accepted it, puffing nervously as he talked.
"Well, this here new man come around in late afternoon, between the matinee and the evening performances. He was wearing one of our uniforms, but he weren't no working man. His hands was white and soft kind of a distinquishing looking feller. Grey hair. I watched Mm for awhile and then got busy ... lost track of him. Asked Frank Gibbs who the new man was and he said the guy was a temporary replacement for Cy Webb ... Cy's been out with back trouble. Well, sir, I didn't think no more about that new man until I heard about the sabotage. Then I remembered something, Mr. English. I saw that feller once more. The last time I saw him he was around the trapeze ropes."
Mike pulled his chair closer toward the desk and looked Howard in the eye.
"Exactly what did this man look like?" Mike asked.
"Medium build, I guess. Kind of flabby, out of shape, but a good looking middle-aged man. Grey hair, like I said. Walked with a limp."
"Thanks, Howard. Now don't you worry about your job. I'll see that you don't lose it. I'll also see that your check's sweetened this week."
As Howard left, Mike stared at the notes he'd taken. Maybe he could get Frank Anders, a commercial artist he sometimes hired, to draw up a sketch based on the information. Mike was certain that the temporary hand on the maintenance team was the person who'd sabotaged the trapeze guideline. What puzzled him was why Jesse Urlander had taken such trouble to try to cover up the man's presence? Was Urlander afraid he might lose his own job if it was discovered that he'd hired a saboteur? Or was Urlander himself getting paid by the same employer?
On the outside chance that someone else had seen something. Mike continued interviewing the maintenance crew, but nothing more developed. More surprising, no one else mentioned the stranger who worked with them yesterday. Mike decided Urlander had buffaloed all of them into hiding that fact, all except the frail, meek little man named Ted Howard.
He'd give Urlander plenty of rope. There was a chance he might hang himself.
Glenda Rawlings smiled as Mike approached. In a saloon girl costume that embellished her long, shapely legs and her trim waist, Glenda was backed up against a huge board covered in a bright red foil that reflected the glare of the three floodlights on her.
Her make-up was flawless, giving her a smooth, finished look. But her fluttering eyelashes gave her away; Mike knew she was nervous.
Before her, calmly snapping a long black snake whip in the air, testing it out, posed Ramon LeCoeur, the whip artist. He looked like a whip artist, Mike decided, although he wasn't wearing his costume, only jeans and tennis shoes. A pencil thin man with a swarthy complexion, slicked back black hair and huge, dark eyes that didn't miss anything.
"Readee?" LeCoeur asked, his French accent thick, as he looked toward Glenda.
"Yes."
"Marie!" LeCoeur snapped.
Another assistant, a brunette wearing a costume just like Glenda's, hurried across the room with a huge, red Delicious apple so polished it looked artificial, placing it atop Glenda's head.
LeCoeur bent his wrist dramatically, sending the tip of the whip behind him, then raised the black handle, not blinking an eye as he looked at his gorgeous target.
Snap!
The apple split in two, the pieces falling off Glenda's head.
"Veery good!" LeCoeur said. "Excellent ... now we'll try the lighted cigarette. Marie!"
As Mike lit a Winston, nervous himself, he gazed appreciatively up those gorgeous young legs of the assistant as she tendered a silver tray, with cigarettes and a lighter on it, to Glenda.
Taking her time, Glenda lit a cigarette and Marie walked off.
"Readee?" LeCoeur asked again.
"Yes." Glenda positioned herself with her profile toward them, the cigarette protruding from her mouth.
Snap!
The black snake whip sliced the cigarette in two. LeCoeur smiled, pleased with himself and his new assistant.
"Lunch time!" he said, leaving them.
"I'm ravishingly hungry!" Glenda said, corning up to Mike. "Take me to lunch?"
"You're ravishing all right," he said. "Sure, I'll take you to lunch."
"How's the investigation going?" she asked.
"So so."
He didn't tell her more. He liked to keep business and pleasure separate. Besides, there wasn't that much to tell yet. The first person he'd report to would be the colonel, not his niece.
Glenda put on a London fog, covering her saloon girl costume, all those lovely sequins and frills, hiding that beautiful, curvaceous body.
"You like Jewish food?" she asked.
"Love it."
"There's a little deli around the corner. They have corned beef and Kosher weiners and Greek olives. Also the best pumpernickel bread you ever put in your mouth."
Outside, the heat and the car fumes were devastating. Traffic bumper to bumper, tempers short in the heat. Angry faces peering from car windows. Horns sounding in piercing, impatient bleats. They hurried along.
Half a block up Walnut Street they pushed open a door with a Polar Bear label on it with iced blue lettering saying "Air Conditioned" and stepped into the refrigerated delicatessen, spotting a table for two at the rear of the place. It was packed.
"I heard about your sexy exploits with the Dub-liners," she said smoothly, opening her coat. He caught a peek of her satiny breast skin squeezing out deliriously from her tight black bodice.
"No kidding?" he responded, amused. "Exactly what did they tell you?"
"They said they had to get you drunk so you'd go to sleep and they could get some rest for today's rehearsals."
He smiled sheepishly, ducking his head behind the huge menu.
"They also told me," Glenda continued, "that you very thoughtfully popped little Angel's cherry." She giggled.
He looked up, half annoyed. "Yeah ... well, she asked me to! It wasn't the ordinary kind of cherry."
"What's wrong?" Glenda asked. "Feeling guilty?"
"Hell no. I'm tired."
"A big healthy stud like you tired," she teased. "I don't believe it."
"Let's order!" he said. "I'll pick up the stuff at the counter."
"Okay ... one corned beef on pumpernickel and one of those huge dill pickles and a cola for me," she said.
When he came back with their food, Glenda was reading a paperback she'd evidently taken from her raincoat pocket: The Oldest Profession.
"You taking night classes?" he asked sarcastically.
"Yep," she snapped! "Learning a second profession." She paused, looking up at him. "Why don't we go to my place after we eat?"
"This is sudden!"
"I'm jealous. I don't want you spreading yourself around so thin."
Glenda's apartment was opulent. Four high-ceilinged rooms in a Victorian mansion that had been restored. Air conditioned and also equipped with an electronic device that cleaned the air.
The building sat behind a row of beech and maple trees overlooking busy Third Street, once the most fashionable street in Louisville.
Mike figured Colonel Paulmann was paying his niece better than some of the star performers. The old man obviously had a soft spot for her.
Glenda took off his jacket and fixed them drinks at a modern bar, somehow out of place in the commodious living room with textured wallpaper that must have cost eight bucks a roll.
"Fancy digs!" he observed.
"Just temporary...." she said. "I thought I'd indulge myself for once. Uncle's paying me well. In the summer, the circus plays on a circuit within three-hundred miles of Louisville, so this place is home. I love it."
Mike spread his large frame out on a "Freudian" couch and relaxed, seeping up the atmosphere and Glenda's loveliness. In her saloon girl's costume she was very fetching. The whole atmosphere made him think he was in one of the private rooms of some swell sporting house in the Old West-about to take advantage of the star prostitute.
Glenda sat opposite him and crossed her legs. The smoky mesh of the stockings made her legs even shaplier and more desirable than when they were bare.
Heat began to spread in his crotch. He sipped the Old Crow.
"You know something, I never laid anybody on an analyst's couch," he said. "Might be fun."
"It's really very comfortable," Glenda said, smiling. "Good springs and heavy cushions ... want to try?" She put down her drink and crossed the room to dim the lights.
As she walked, he took in an eyeful of choice ass, bouncing hard, and well turned legs. She knew how to walk in heels. He wondered if he'd have any trouble with that damned corset. Peeling off the rest of the costume would be sheer pleasure.
The lights dimmed. The faint light from outdoors on the red, textured wallpaper gave the room a kind of rosy glow. It was mint cool from the air conditioning. A perfect place for an afternoon piece of ass.
Glenda came to him, hovering over him, as she took the barrette from her black hair; it spilled forward in a sexy frame around her face. Her lips were like fruit, fresh and untasted.
"Here," she said, offering her right leg, stretching it sexily before him. "Take off my stockings."
His cock assaulted his fly.
Releasing her shoe, he stood up and rolled the red velvet garter down her leg, feeling the soft flesh beneath the mesh, admiring its tawny curves. He pulled the garter over her foot and then started peeling away the stocking. Her leg, free of the stocking, was smooth and svelte. Tan and cool. He put his tongue to it and licked upward. She squealed.
Shoving her hand to his bulging cock, she petted it hard through his trousers. Groping, she found the zipper and released it. Its rosy texture matched the glow of the room.
"It's scorching hot!" Glenda said. "It needs watering." She gave it a few playful jerks. It filled her hand, blossoming into it.
Gently pulling away, she offered up her other leg. He slid the garter down it, taking it off with the high heel. Admiring its beauty in the mesh first, he peeled it away to the naked flesh and licked up it.
Glenda spread her legs. He stared at what appeared to be an impenetrable barrier. Her corset. She smiled.
"For once the invincible Mike English is baffled!" she cried.
"Goddamn, how did a man ever get a piece of ass in those days."
"The corset replaced the chastity belt," Glenda said. "Only difference was, the chastity belt was for man's vanity while the corset was for women's defense ... I think a woman invented it."
Her hands roamed behind her back and she began to snap it loose. The corset fell to the carpeting, revealing a glossy red bikini.
With both hands he slid the silky bikini down her legs and ran his tongue into her running snatch. He. licked up and down her gorgeous pink slit. Up and down. She kept spreading wider to give his greedy tongue better access.
His cock had reared up monstrously. It was a shaft of rampant masculinity that stood straight and hard from his body. His balls dangled heavily beneath the big bat. Thick and bulging, it throbbed violently, anticipating cunt. The large vein up its dorsal side had swollen huge. It was a sharp, thick purple line up his prick.
Desperately, it wanted to slice into her, yet it had learned the pleasure of prolonging a sexual encounter. Mike pleased his oral needs with deeper lunges. Now he caught her clit and played his tongue around its rubbery wet head. Her body began to vibrate.
She lurched her cunt onto his tongue, seeking out the ecstasy it wrought. His hands gripped her nice hard buttocks and drew that well harder on his tongue. His face wallowed in her wetness and her fragrance.
Harder he bore his tongue against the sensitive, aroused clit. She squirmed, at one moment trying to escape the almost unbearable pleasure, at the next seeking it avidly.
Her body was his.
He lay her on the couch and withdrew his tongue, swabbing it up her lovely flat belly. He painted the valley between her nice firm tits with his tongue. Then he settled into a sucking pulling suction on her right tit, trying to swallow it, loving her response. She had kneaded fingers of both hands to her tit, trying to shove all of it into his mouth, drooling saliva.
He switched to the other tit, drowning it in his flood, scooping up the fleshy mound as if it were a dip of ice cream, melting it down with his caresses.
He moved his body up hers, straddling her, until his throbbing cock was riding in the valley between her breasts. She pushed each melon tight against his cock as it rode on a track of perspiration, back and forth in that lovely groove.
Its insolent head, eye opened wide, looked her in the face as it slapped toward her.
Slowly, her head moved toward it. Her tongue came darting out, reaching for that huge apple-shaped head. Tongue touched prick. His prick snapped forward harder and she swabbed it with drool. He kept it there, letting her suck to her heart's content. Between her two fruit-like breasts, nurtured by their smoothness, its head being watered and sucked by a ripe young mouth, his dick had reached heaven. Wanting a harder suck-down, he pulled up, fascinated by his long stalk as it pulled free of her tits, rising from between those tan peaks.
Then he shoved hard and she gasped as it filled her mouth. But she recovered quickly, adjusting the stroke of her mouth and the fit of her lips to the demands of the intruding giant. Slurp. The sound came steadily as she gave him a first-class blowjob.
It spat come.
From that pink eye shot a glob of pearly sperm that hit her on the nose and ran down to her mouth. She licked it up, smiling.
More fired out, violating her face with its hot cream, but she loved it.
The liquid seed almost masked her face with its outpour.
He lay back, watching her fingerfuck as she straddled him, feasting her eyes on him, raking over him with a primitive's desire.
As he looked into her eyes, he caught her passion.
His cock rose again. High and mighty. Stronger and more rigid than before.
Forcefully, he pulled her hand from her cunt and licked it. Then he turned and mounted her. It was all ready for him now. Juicy and hot.
With one stroke he sank into her humid, grasping cunt. She began to snap at his cock, to nibble on its reddened, thickened girth as he rode her.
The leather squeaked beneath her, her body wet and clinging.
Even the cooling air from the conditioner didn't dry his sweat, however, as he smashed down into that lovely hot-pants cunt that kept smacking along its length.
The second time around with Glenda was definitely the best, he was deciding. This gal had a penchant for balling. He'd known snappers but never one that could keep up such steady, velvety kissing of prick.
He began hammering his body down into hers with sturdy, crushing blows. But her body cushioned his blows and her snapper absorbed the fury and lash of his prick.
Again and again he drove into her to the hilt of his cock until his balls smacked hard against her pelvis.
Her legs locked around him, sliding silk strokes up his back, gliding along his perspiration. Her breath came out hard and hot.
The squeaking of the couch grew louder. Its cry was almost human.
Mike was a man possessed. He was possessed with the need to fuck her the best she'd ever been fucked.
He wanted this girl's respect for his manhood. He was getting it.
Sighs of gratitude poured from her. Her eyes became liquid with love of him-and his huge cock.
He gorged her with every thick long inch of his imbedded penis. Time after time. His cock coated itself with her nectar; it bore her fragrance.
"You know something, you cunt? You're the world's best pussy," he said.
His flattery got him everywhere. She really turned on. Her cunt slithered up his pecker even faster, tightening around it with wet, warm kisses. Her ass squeaked and bounced on the leather, throwing that hungry mound to him.
He'd released a tiger with his hot words. But he wasn't sorry.
His deeply sinking thrusts were stretching the walls of her cunt and delving to its bottom. Her swollen nipples bounced on her tits, shaking from the violence of their balling.
He pounded her now until surging screams of delight came from her. Her body flew out of control, becoming all pussy, eating up his cock, flooding it, absorbing it.By god, a dark woman's more passionate than a blonde!
This time his hot sperm fired up her body. She came with him, howling that she felt his hot lead, felt it coursing through her pussy. He knew better, but maybe she thought she felt it. He'd certainly shot enough up her!
CHAPTER SEVEN
At first, Mike didn't recognize Jesse Urlander when he emerged from the Convention Center's side entrance. Urlander was wearing a cocoa brown suit and a bright, flowery sport shirt, rather than the drab standard grey maintenance uniform he wore when on duty. The moth had turned into a butterfly.
Mike buried his face in the Daily Racing Form while Urlander passed on the opposite side of the street, a bounce in his step, a man anxious to get somewhere, and entered Vic's Parking Lot.
A few minutes later Urlander breezed past in a new Monarch, heading south. Mike started the engine of his Alfa Romeo and pulled into the line of sparse traffic on Fifth Street, staying half a block behind the Monarch.
Urlander drove out of the city's downtown, snaking across to Third Street where traffic moved at a faster clip, passing near historic Churchill Downs, to a plush nightclub near Iroquois Park. While an attendant parked his Monarch, Urlander hurried into the nightclub.
Mike parked his car in a Steak 'n' Shake lot across the street. He smoked almost half a pack of Winstons before he saw Urlander exit from the Silver Swan.
Tipsy, Urlander was walking on rubbery legs with his right arm swept around the waist of a gorgeous redhead who looked as if she'd just stepped out of a chorus line. The redhead was laughing, her voice raucous and husky.
Mike was forming a sharper profile of the man. He liked flashy clothes and women. He drove fast. And he couldn't hold his liquor. Urlander's penchant for clothes and chorus girls meant he needed money. Lots of it.
Playing the gentleman's role, Urlander held the car door for the redhead as she got in, her dress inching up to display her legs, shimmering in silvery hose. One way or another, a woman will manage to show off her best physical assets. This one just had and Mike probably had gotten a better view through his opera glasses than Urlander had.
Mike started his car's engine as the Monarch made a wide half circle in the nightclub lot, its wheels spinning up a cloud of gravel dust, before bursting onto the boulevard. The car weaved slightly, finally straightening out, as it headed up Third Street.
A block behind, Mike pursued Urlander at high speeds through the South End back into the city's heart, where traffic became heavier. Mike stayed safely camouflaged behind four other cars.
When Urlander turned onto Ormsby Avenue, Mike followed, turning off his lights as he saw the Monarch go up an alley. As he eased across the alley's mouth, he saw the Monarch's tail-lights turn and then go out.
Parking on the street, Mike hurried up the alley, just in time to see Urlander and his redhead heading up the side walkway into a modern luxury apartment complex.
Cautiously, he followed. When he reached the main entrance they were nowhere in sight. So he checked the boxes in the lobby.
GUNTHER. HARRISON. WEBBER. RANSDELL. URLANDER.
Apartment 2G.
Upstairs.
He mounted the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the thick shag.
What's a maintenance foreman with a traveling circus doing with such expensive digs? Hell, he couldn't use it more than four months a year, because the show's on the road the rest of the time.
As he neared 2G, he reached inside his coat jacket for his specially-made stethoscopic device. After making sure he wasn't being watched, he attached the device to the door and listened.
He picked up the conversation inside-very distinctly:
Urlander: "You fix yourself a drink, sweetie. I've got to make a phone call."
Redhead: "Who you calling at this hour?"
Urlander: "Business, honey. Business."
Redhead: "You want a drink too?"
Urlander: "Yeah ... a whiskey...."
Pulling back from the door, Mike shifted his weight and again looked up the corridor each way. No one in sight. He returned his attention to what was happening inside 2G.
The phone was being dialed.
Urlander: "Mr. Ormstead, this is Jesse ... I've tried to reach you all night ... yeah, that's right ... oh, I see. Anyway this here private eye's been nosing around. Yeah ... might be on to us. What'll happen if....
Payoff! Mike thought.
Redhead: "Here's your drink, hon."
Urlander: "Your place tomorrow...."
Mike was taken completely off guard. He didn't hear or see the little man stealing up the hall on tiptoes with a two by four in his arms. He didn't even hear the little man's soft sigh as he strained to lift the two by four. It crashed with terrific force into the back of Mike's head.
He tumbled into the blackness of unconsciousness.
Nemo the clown reached up, barely tall enough to ring the buzzer. He rang once. Twice. A startled Jesse Urlander opened the door. First he looked at Nemo, a frown on his face, and then at the crumpled heap called Mike English.
"What the hell's going on?" he asked.
"He's been tailing you all night." Nemo said, his squeaky voice tired, his forehead beaded with sweat. "I've been tailing him."
"For Christ's sake, get the body in here before someone comes along!" Urlander said.
He bent, putting his arms under Mike's, dragging, while Nemo lifted his feet. They got Mike into the place and shut the door. The redhead, drinking a gin-buck, didn't even seem curious.
When Mike awakened he felt as though he were suffocating. His mouth was full and he couldn't move his tongue. A gag, a dirty old handkerchief, had been wadded into his mouth. He tried moving his hands, but rope cut into his wrists. He tried moving his feet, but rope gnawed into his ankles.
When he leaned forward, attempting to decipher the low mumblings beyond the darkness, pain thundered through his head. He tilted his head back until the pain let up and began his Yoga breathing exercises. After a while he felt less dizzy. I'm in a damn closet!
He listened through the door. Only male voices reached his ears, Urlander's and Nemo's. Apparently, they had taken the redhead home. But they weren't talking about him. They were talking about the old days. The good old days of the circus.
Nemo: "Let's get something to eat, Jesse!"
Urlander: "Hell, we should've got Tilly to fix us something. She's a damn good cook. You wouldn't believe it."
Nemo: "I want some pancakes. Let's go to a pancake house."
Urlander: "What about him?"
Nemo: "English? Hell, he's out colder than a mackerel. Besides, I've got him tied up with a gag in his mouth. The closet's locked."
Urlander: "Let's go then. I could use a cup of hot coffee."
They shuffled out of the room and the door closed. Another door closed a few seconds later.
Awkwardly, trying to place most of his weight against the door frame, Mike rose. The pain again hammered his head. He remained quiet for a few minutes and then turned, sliding his hand over the doorknob. When he twisted it, it made a dead click. Locked.
Stay calm. Think.
With his knuckles he rapped against the door, trying to determine its thickness and quality of construction.
The sounds that came back to his ears were sweet music. Hollow, thin sounds, almost metallic.
Just as I thought. Whoever built this place put all the money into the chandeliers in the lobby and that fancy carpeting. They sure as hell didn't put it into quality lumber for the closets.
Inching back in the closet, moving slowly because his feet were bound so tightly together, he lunged hard against the door. It seemed to give, but didn't break open.
He tried again. This time, he splintered it. Using his shoulder he struck again, weak from the effort. The lock snapped and the door, cracked and shredded, popped open, dumping him onto the floor.
Mike estimated that Urlander and Nemo had been gone fifteen minutes. Figuring they'd gone to a nearby restaurant, he guessed he had maybe thirty minutes to clear out.
Better hurry!
With his hands and feet still bound, he hopped through the bedroom he was in, then across the living room and up a hall, until he reached the kitchen.
Jesus, I'm tired.
But he managed to work a bread knife, with its serrated blade, into the crack between the door and the hall, closing the door on the handle of the knife. He backed toward it and began to saw the rope against the blade, finally freeing his hands. Seconds later he had his feet free as well.
Snatching up a half-full fifth of Old Crow from Urlander's bar, he headed out the back way, scampering to his car. On the Alpha's comfortable leather seat he stretched back and drank an inch of Old Crow. It revived him.
When he reached his place, it was 3 a.m. Nobody around but the security guard in the lobby, half asleep, his chair tilted back against the wall, with a Playboy in his lap.
Mike didn't even bother to wake him.
"Hi!" she squealed when he flipped on the overhead lights in the master bedroom.
She folded her magazine in a tent beside her on his bed and flashed a come-hither smile. Georgia Pember-ton, another of his keyholders. Radcliffe. Exphotographer, former model. Into flying now as a stewardess for a major airline. Sexy and fun.
"When'd you get in?" he asked, taking off his suit coat and hanging it across a chair, while he loosened his tie and removed it The room was cool and scented with her fragrance.
"Flight 702 from New York," she said. "I layover until tomorrow morning."
She reminded him of a huge, fluffy cat, curled up, her shapely legs crossed, her stewardess' blouse partially unbuttoned, enough to expose patches of creamy breasts, ripe, hand-sized fruit.
He smiled. "Goodie. After the night I just had I could use some diversion."
"Working on a case?" she asked, sweeping back her lovely brown hair from her face. She was wearing it Swedish style, so that it veiled and framed her oval face, drawing attention to her mint eyes, her high cheek bones and her rich, ripe lips.
Ignoring her question, he piled onto the bed, taking her in his arms. She was firm and cool, her mouth deliciously soft and wet as he kissed her. Her hands folded around his neck, drawing him closer.
"I'd almost forgotten how well you make love," she said.
Ego builder. Best damn ego builder around. But ego building's what I need right now.
"Thanks. You're not exactly a slacker yourself, gorgeous!"
"Let me help you off with the rest of those hot, clumsy clothes," she said. She started unbuttoning his shirt, with deft flicks of her fingers, her polished nails flashing pink. He slid out of the shirt and she began rolling up his ribbed undershirt, pulling it over his head.
Then, surprising him, she burrowed her lovely face into his chest hair, snuggling up and down with her nose.
"Old bear!" she said. "It's good to be with you again."
Her mouth found his navel and she darted forth her tongue, painting its rim with teasing strokes, stretching out her long legs, knowing she was creating a hard-on.
"Now, let's get out of those hot old pants," she said, raising her head from his body, "so I can get to what I've been daydreaming about for days-your powerful thick cock!"
She undid the belt buckle and unbuttoned the top button of his pants, zipping down the fly. As she watched, eagerly awaiting his cock's appearance, she tugged with both hands, pulling his trousers downward.
Lifting himself, so she could slide them from his hips and then off, he marveled at her boldness, as he always did. She was so sexy, so lovely she didn't need to play Miss Helpful. Most men would have ravaged her, undressed her, but he decided maybe that was why she liked him. He made her do all the work.
Hers was a wet-nylon kind of sensuality. It came from her full, glistening lips, from her dewy green eyes, and from her liquid movements, supple and graceful. Even her dark brown hair, which she wore shoulder length when she wasn't on duty, seemed to flow like water, each strand of it vibrant and alive. It partially veiled her oval face and her small nose as she bent over him.
His cock popped dramatically from his boxers like a jack out of the box. An ugly red head.
With a long, tapered forefinger she etched a line up its pulsating underside along the bulge of its gigantic black-blue dorsal vein that was swelling as his cock blossomed. It throbbed expectantly.
"Caesar, I salute you!" she said, now running the same finger in tantalizingly slow circles around its crimson, hard head, vibrating before her. Her mouth -edged temptingly closer to it. Her huge eyes mirrored his massive dork.
She gripped Caesar with hands so silky he flinched.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Your hand's so soft!"
"I keep them out of dish water," she said matter-of-factly.
As she coiled her long legs under her, so that her knees shone, fair and smooth, she began to jack him off, slowly, with a rhythm that pleased him. "Relaxing, isn't it?"
"Yeah ... I'm coming into your world now," he said.
While she jacked him with her left hand, she used her right to slip out of her clothes. Slowly, knowing he loved watching her, she started to remove her blue stewardess blouse. As she opened each button her nude tits seemed to press harder against the gossamery material, demanding release. Their turgid, pink nipples created dark little impressions against the blouse.
Meanwhile, she continued jacking him, slithering up and down his cock's long, hot length with her cool, refreshing hand. It seemed custom-made for his prick.
Finally, she pulled the tail of her blouse free and then whipped it off, throwing back her lovely shoulders. Two healthy, succulent young boobs sprang forward, practically in his face, like fruit, their skin creamy and unmarred. Her pinkish nipples perked out of giant pools of brown.
She's one gal who doesn't look good with a tan. She's just not the type. She's cream. All cream and wet-nylon. The sun would bake away her beauty.
"Need some help with the skirt?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Temporarily, she took away her hand from his panting cock and moved her skirt down her body; he pulled it free of her legs, over her blue heels, while she started peeling off her pantyhose and light blue panties. She took off her heels just long enough to remove her hose and panties, knowing he loved her to wear them, especially on her nude legs.
As she tossed the clothes on the floor, as if she were tossing away her worries, he once more admired the rest of her.
A big hipped woman, the kind he liked, big hipped and small waisted with huge tits, she possessed unusually handsome buttocks. They trimmed off sharply with strongly etched shadow lines between hillock and upper leg. Her thighs were nice too, well developed and finely muscled.
He loved tongue-bathing her, licking every inch of that curvaceous young body, so fresh and creamy. It was like eating a pure meal: cleansing and refreshing. Their relationship was extremely oral, which made it distinctive, and he didn't want to change that.
She's an honest-to-god-made-for-eating pussy, he thought, as his lust-filled eyes surveyed her body as if he were seeing it for the first time.
"Arch that cunt up in front of me, Georgia!" he ordered.
Obediently, she got on her knees and forked her loins open to form an inverted "V."
Already her vagina was so excited it had put dew on her curly brown cunt hair.
Like some eager gourmet, he parted her labia, first revealing brown and then the juicy inner meat, pink and wet. Her clit, a large one, was nosing out as it usually did. A curious red devil.
His tongue found it, playing along its rubbery surface until it popped out completely. As he increased his attentions, she began to squirm, tremors shaking her thighs. She was boiling hot!
Releasing the aroused clit, he dug in, sinking his mouth far up that commodious cunt, wallowing in its familiar fragrance. The tissue was soft and wet and yielding to his intrusion. He felt swabbed in sexual joy.
Clockwise and then counterclockwise he revolved his face, coating his lips and his nostrils and his entire lower face with her warm discharges.
Deeper he bore in, clutching her nice hard hips in the vise of his huge hands, holding her steady so he could eat her choice pussy without her pulling back whenever her ecstasy became unbearable.
Lost in passion, she grasped him, her hands behind his neck, pushing him farther into her voracious, dripping cunt. He forced his hot breath up her, as if he were filling a balloon. That really turned her on. She wiggled and bobbed her beautiful boobs.
"It's like hot feathers up me," she panted, "titillating hell out of me. Jesus!"
She squirmed her cunt madly, hard on his intruding tongue. From its elusive darting movements she sought the supreme pleasure that titillation promised. She wanted to come.
He sucked and slurped with abandon, bathing himself in her sex, reveling in it, in the thought of her, her beauty, her wet sensuality.
With lightning-quick flicks of his supple tongue he sent her beautiful body into a spasm of rapture. Her body glowed with the heat of her arousal, while the heady feminine fragrance of her cunt, soaking wet, nectarized the air.
Spinning her about, he began licking the voluptuous curves of her shiny buttocks in long, sweet, delightful swirls of his tongue, slicking and slurping all over her sleek butt.
She started when suddenly he pressed his tongue insistently up her rosy back hole. His wet, probing tongue, like a miniature prick, stroked fire into that warm little cave, satin-like, as he kneaded her creamy hillocks.
"Yaaoww!" she cried.
That spurred him on. Forcing her flat on the bed, he hurriedly put a pillow beneath her so that her whole beautiful, bouncy bottom faced him at just the right level. Obligingly, she splayed her resplendent ass open.
The sheer view tortured him. It was magnificent, that ass, split succulently up the middle, her buttocks remarkably well matched and beautifully textured and toned. Creamy. Pillowy.
He gave his hotter-than-a-poker lance a few licks before he piled into her with his drooling mouth, stroking his tongue from her ass to her cunt in daring, bold, wet swabs. Her butt began to shiver from excitement. Her legs wobbled.
Coating her buttocks until they shone, he then licked down her left leg, because it was the handiest, silky and smooth. There he dwelled, feasting on her calf, painting wet circles of passion on that choice cut. At last he directed his mouth to the supersoft flesh of her ankle.
He knew from previous encounters that her ankles were especially sensitive. As he licked, she wiggled her bottom, hardly able to bear the pleasure. He traced his tongue along the fine veins of her ankle, slurping into the sexy crevices of her heel, still shoed. She was so excited she dug the shoe's toe into the mattress.
He sucked lewdly, calling up in his mind visions of World War II pinups that had turned him on as a teenager. Sassy bottomed blondes or brunettes in tight swim suits. They always wore high heels, those pinups, to show off their shapely legs as they kicked them up or spread them apart or struck other poses or performed other maneuvers to tease the viewer.
Georgia spun over on her nice butt and assumed a yoga position while he continued to devour her body. She loved to be tongue-bathed. He loved bathing her, always certain to be well rewarded for indulging her.
"I love for you to suck me all over," she said. "I love it, Mike. You're the only man who gives me what I want."
He looked up, still holding her shapely leg, examining it as if it were a precious jewel. "Believe me, it's no chore."
"The others," she said, making the word others sound like something horrendous, "just want to fuck me. They can hardly wait to get their little cocks in me and grunt and get red-faced and then shoot their miserable little wads. You don't do that, Mike. You take your time. Besdies, your cock's worth submitting to when it suits us to have conventional sex." She made it all sound intimate and special-their relationship. It was.
Ceremoniously, as she observed his reaction, always testing him, she slid her leg from his hold with a tantalizing smile on her face. She sat up in the bed, stretching toward him as she cocked one leg over the other, slicing flesh across flesh.
"Now I want to suck," she said, in a school-girlish way, tipping out her tongue at him. "I want that big cudgel in my mouth, filling it up." She leaned forward and his heavy monster reared, throbbing, into her hand. He let her play her games.
Jacking back the foreskin, she looked into its fat eye. It had begun to cry.
"Don't cry, Caesar!" she teased. Her gorgeous brown hair veiled her face, making it both angelic and sensuous as hell.
His prick pulsated so hard she seemed hardly able to constrain it with her hand. Its heat seemed to burn her tender flesh. It needed to be showered with the hot sauce of her mouth.
But she loved to tease. If only he didn't weaken and fire his wad, he was in store for something juicy.
"Poor Caesar!" she sighed, in a kiddish way, treating his ugly cock like a favorite puppet from childhood. "Is Caesar all hot and bothered? Caesar needs to be showered in my sweet young mouth, now doesn't he? Poor, poor dear."
Her delicous, wet tongue sprang forth and touched Caesar. His prick lurched forward, bigger and longer. Moistening her lips, she stretched them like nylon across the red bulb of his cock's head. She sucked, happily, for maybe ten minutes. She feasted.
"Mike, oh Mike, I have a marvelous idea," she said suddenly, looking up from his cock, droplets of saliva falling from her mouth, but keeping a hand on its pulsating crimson length as if she didn't want it to stray.
"Do you have any of that whipped cream in an aerosol?"
"Shit, I don't know," he said, annoyed with her because she'd stopped sucking. "Usually ... yeah. I like it on strawberries. It's in the refrigerator."
When she returned with the can of refrigerated whipped cream in her hand, she was all smiles, obviously delighted with her own ingenuity. "Why haven't we thought of this before?" she squealed, testing the aerosol by foaming a forefinger and then licking up the froth. "This is going to be a ball!"
He lit a Winston and inhaled as she approached his body with the manner of a doctor or engineer, eyeing his huge cock as if it were a special project.
She pressed down the cylinder's cap again, robing his red root with a thick foam.
"Lovely!" she cried.
Pressing again, she directed a mass of the whipped cream onto his balls, hiding them from view.
"That stuff's cold," he yelped. "Ease up!"
"Oh, I'll take care of that sudden chill," she said, smacking her lips.
He got the idea.
From the white froth, the huge round purple-red head of his cock rose proudly to meet her descending tongue.
Touchdown!
Avidly, she lapped up the whipped cream, gulping it down before running her mouth to his balls. She sank through the thick cream, managing to scoop in both his balls in one movement. The whipped cream oozed from the edges of her wide, red mouth. She had a mouthful!
She licked his balls clean until they shone, pink and hairy, and then slicked her greedy tongue up the backside of his long root. Her tongue licked in long, supremely satisfying strokes. His dick arched out over her, commander of all it surveyed. Up that hot expanse of cock she stroked and stroked. Higher and higher his cock arched.
Then she reached its gigantically enlarged end and managed to stuff it into her mouth. She eased down it very slowly as his eyes swept in the loveliness of her creamy body, those long, sleek legs, those firm fruits of tits. She kept on taking his cock until she made a gagging sound as the blood-sated head corked her throat. Her eyes widened in wonder and she eased back a fraction.
It was an incredible view. Seeing her pretty red mouth bulging around his bone, most of it shoved far up her, fired up his balls even more. Her jaws were straining to hold it.
Having established its groove and knowing how far he could shove the long pole up her mouth without choking her, he began to stroke into her, taking control, a steady, wet pistoning that picked up the softness of her mouth and the wetness and the clutching movements of her muscles.
Loving the heat and fullness of his cock, she jerked her body higher, excited by his thrusts. The missile fired effortlessly, it seemed, into the furnace of her mouth, and her mouth closed and opened around it, clinging to it when it drove in and releasing it when it exited. It was so large its weight seemed to be bruising her beautiful lips.
Her lips were pliant and delicious around the now extreme girth of his cock as it drove in. His balls made a loud, snapping noise as he mouth-fucked the beautiful woman before him, her hair strung like an umbrella over his fast-striking cock.
She seemed filled with joy. He'd never seen a woman who enjoyed cock sucking so thoroughly. It appeared to fill a great inner need. To feast on that long, red, jerking root seemed, for the moment anyway, the dearest thing in life to her.
Her breathing came faster, her eyes streaked with the light of her passion. Her drool painted his rod with blobs of heat.
Faster he stroked.
He released his semen into her in spurts as his orgasm seized his loins. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. She milked his cock of all its bounty, swallowing it all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mike rapped on the door.
"Come on in!" The voice seemed to come from a distant chamber. But it was resonant and distinctive.
When he stepped inside, he saw no one. The room was small and dusty, but cool. A window air conditioner was spilling out cool air.
A door to his right opened and Colonel Paulmann came out of a small bathroom, smoothing aftershave on his cheeks and chin. He looked tired to Mike.
"Sit down, Mike, rest your bones," Paulmann said, wheeling his own large, almost rickety frame into place behind a battered oak desk. "Anything to report? We'll be leaving Louisville in two days for Indianapolis. I was hoping...."
Mike pulled out a Winston, lighting it. He continued to stand. "I'm afraid I've go some bad news, Colonel. Two of your people, Jesse Urlander and Nemo, are directly involved in the sabotage. I've got the goods on them. But I don't know yet who they're working for."
The colonel paled. His features seemed even sharper. "I don't believe you, Mike. You must have made a mistake. Jesse and Nemo have worked for me for more than two decades. By God. I'd trust them with my life."
A sympathetic look on his face, Mike explained his activities of the past thirty-six hours in detail. When he finished, the colonel was a shaken man.
"Of course by now they know you're free and I guess they're on the run," Colonel Paulmann said.
"I plan to stake out Jesse's place tonight," Mike said. "If he shows up, I'll follow him. He might lead me to his boss."
When he started out of the small office, Colonel Paulmann was filling a glass with Old Crow. He looked like a defeated man.
Mike kept remembering the loyalty thing about circus people. In that light, Nemo's and Jesse's acts just didn't fit. He could think of only one explanation for their strange behavior.
It took Mike twenty minutes to reach Glenda's place. He parked behind the old mansion and entered the building through the side entrance. Taking the small elevator to the third floor, he hurried toward her apartment.
He rang once. Nothing stirred inside. He rang again. Silence. One more try. After his third ring he heard a door open deep inside the apartment, then another.
Sleepy-eyed, Glenda opened up, releasing the safety chain when she saw Mike.
"You're an early bird!"
"I always am when I'm hot on a case," he said, sliding into the room.
In the morning sun that slanted through the windows her face was smooth and beautiful, without a trace of makeup. She moved as gracefully as a child as she crossed the room. He followed. "Coffee?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'll take a slug." His eyes followed her nude form, clearly discernible through the thin negligee. She wasn't even wearing a bra or panties.
Glenda returned with coffee, marmalade, and toast While they crunched and drank, he questioned her.
"Tell me about your father, Glenda," he urged.
"Well, I don't remember too much, but Daddy was one of the greats of the circus in the 1950s-the last great human cannonball. He was called the Great Bollinger. That was his stage name, of course; his real name was Jefferson Rawlings. Mother was his assistant. Everything seemed to fall apart after the accident in Muncie."
"What accident?" Mike asked, his curiosity pricked. His instinct told him he was on the right track.
"He got drunk and fell off the Whip. We were in a carny then. He suffered a concussion. The spill broke his left leg too."
"Could he still perform his act?" Mike asked.
"Yes ... but he lost interest. One day he just disappeared. Mother never heard from his again."
"He limped from the accident?"
"Yes. The injury was more severe than anyone thought. The bones didn't knit right How did you know?"
"Just a guess ... have you ever heard from your father in the intervening years?"
"No, not once. He didn't even come to Mother's funeral two years ago. It was written up in the trade papers, so he would've known about it. He could have come."
"Do you have any photos of your father?" Mike asked.
"Not a one, Mike ... Mother had several scrap-books with photos of him in them but they were lost in a fire. Is my father connected with this case, Mike?" Her eyes had a pleading look that begged him to say No. He told her the truth.
"I don't know yet, but, yes, I think he is. Wasn't he a friend of Nemo and Jesse Urlander?"
Glenda stopped short of putting the cup of coffee to her lips. "Yes ... yes he was. He hired them before Uncle Chris even joined the circus."
Mike smeared a piece of whole wheat toast with the delicious, thick marmalade and devoured it. She'd given him all the information he needed.
"Tasty," he said.
"I love it," she said.
"You look pretty damn delicious yourself."
"Mike, you're insatiable!"
"Don't you know that men are always horney in the morning? It's primitive or atavistic or something."
"Then I guess we'd better test out my new water bed. It came the other afternoon after you left."
She rose. The split down the middle of her negligee drifted far apart and he ran a ravishing glance up and down her smooth, tan body. Her tits seemed to be propped up, they sat so high. High and round and sassy. She spun around, giving him a prick-teasing back view as well, as she started toward the main bedroom.
He followed, his eyes never leaving her undulating body. Her buttocks actually seemed to be caressing each other as she walked; they rubbed together smoothly. The light green slippers she wore brought out the curves of her legs.
He had one hell of a hard-on by the time they reached the bedroom. She sat down on the waterbed and slapped it.
"Come to Glenda!" she said.
Peeling off his outer clothes as he walked, he joined her on the bed, pressing her to it, his mouth finding hers. It was pillowy and soft. Her tongue darted into his mouth and trenched him. Already, she was breathing heavily.
He was so aroused he ripped away the filmy negligee, kneading her tits forcefully in the palms of his hands as he raked his enormous cock up between her spreading legs.
"Hot cock!" she squealed.
"Hot pussy," he said.
He slipped his big-headed cock slowly between her slick, wettening lips. Tight. The way he liked it. He could feel her muscles working to spread it wider for him. Relishing each second of it, he eased his cock farther up her, aware of the give of the water bed.
He also realized he hadn't shed his shoes. Without losing position, he managed to kick the Basses free and to go about his pleasure. As he drove his stake in and out of her, her cunt began to flow, providing a rich lubrication.
Her eyes closed. Across the yellow sheet, her rich black hair fanned out. She looked like a princess.
He fucked her harder. Her pussy gripped his cock now like an elastic band, a velvet one, as he slid the length of his erection up her pulpy wet depths. She began to churn, her buttocks slithering against the bed.
"Wow!" she cried. "You've got one big long cock. I think you're going to pop out of my mouth, Mike."
That incensed him. He crammed meat into her so furiously now he broke into a sweat. She cushioned his attack, wiggling and squirming.
She swung her arms around him and pressed her lovely nipple-aroused tits against his chest, pumping her hips in time with his ardent stroking. The bang of her tits against his chest was nearly as exciting as the fiery wetness of her snatch.
He could tell he was riding directly against her aroused clit. He was perfectly positioned. The sawing of his cock sent a wave of ecstasy up that mashed down clit every time he ripped into her.
When he felt her body begin to tremble, he spun her over and, resting for a moment, viewed her rump. Tan and smooth. Hillocks so sweet they should never be violated by anything so ugly as a cock. He was glad it was his cock doing it.
He didn't want to give her real pain. He figured she might be worrying about her father. Instead of ass sticking her, he ran his swollen stalk up that shadow and touched her cunt again. She craned her body up to give him better access. She was dripping.
He rode in smoothly and succulently. He balled her leisurely. Her sumptuous body readily accepted the deep, passionate stabs of his cock.
To prolong it, he again rolled her over and went in straight once more, having missed the sight of her beautiful face as he fed her cock. Now she wore a glazed look. Her juices were running high and hot.
Her cunt was taut and juicy around his bat-hard stem, making smacking sounds against it as he shoved it to her.
Suddenly, her big blue eyes left his and the glaze disappeared. She was watching something beyond his shoulder.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's Jil St. Clair, that's who."
He let up, easing his hard red cock from Glenda and falling back on his haunches. His cock rose up from his loins, throbbing for attention.
A statuesque blonde filled the doorway. Her rocket-like tits, the size of honey dews, appeared even bigger and more delicious because of her trim waist and long legs. They were tits that demanded to be sucked. It was a crime for them not to be.
He whacked his cock.
"She spent the night," Glenda explained. "We're both AC-DC," she said, a frank note creeping into her voice.
"I'm not knocking it, Glenda," he said, stroking his cock. "It's not my bag but I don't knock it."
"It's convenient as hell," Jil cooed, staring at Mike's prick. "After all there's always somebody to have fun with on the road. Beats telling stale jokes."
Jil started across the room. She walked like a burlesque queen, a front row chorine. Her robe matched Glenda's. It was just as see-through but it had a blue hue while Glenda's was green. She was a knockout.
"Is three a crowd?" Jil asked. She stood posing fetchingly beyond the bed's footboard.
"Hell no," Mike said. "I'm liberated."
Jil coiled up at the foot of the water bed, her ribbon-smooth legs under her. She peeled off the robe. Her tits sprang out naked. Instead of giving her a cheap look, her platinum hair, silvery and wispy, gave her a patrician cast. Her work as the tiger trainer's assistant obviously had kept her body in shape.
"You two play for awhile," he said. 'I'll watch."
"Ah, that's no fun!" Glenda said.
"Believe me, I'll join you at the right time!" Mike said.
Glenda rose from the bed and paraded before Jil, obviously turning her on, as Jil swept her hand into her cunt, stroking it. Jil's cat-green eyes followed Glenda's every movement, feasting on her dark, supple body.
From the corner of the room, Glenda retrieved a straight back chair. She picked up a clothes brush from the dresser. Bringing the two items with her, she smiled down at Jil.
"Ready?" she asked.
They'd obviously played this game before, but it puzzled Mike, even though he knew about Glenda's fetish for ass lickings.
Jil rose, stretching luxuriously, and sat in the straight chair. Her tits popped out brazenly as she wet her lips. Her hands began to fondle her ripe melons, warming them up. The nipples erected.
Handing the brush to Jil, Glenda climbed atop her lap, straddling her. The girls were face to face when Jil struck the first blow with the clothes brush, putting a red mark across Glenda's tawny hard butt.
Whack!
Again the hard-bristled brush hit Glenda's butt-this time the left hillock-leaving another red brand.
While Jil thrust it forward, Glenda scooped up the dark brown, almost chocolate colored, nipple of Jil's right rocket. She swabbed it in saliva as she closed harder around that excellent, succulent cone.
Mike ran his hand roughly up and down his formidable erection, huge and hard, as he focused on the action. It was really turning him on. His balls slapped out an erotic staccato as he whacked his cock.
Again, Jil brought the brush in hard contact with Glenda's rump. Glenda squirmed harder, swallowing up more of Jil's gorgeous tit. Then, in a frenzy, as Jil increased the spanking, Glenda sucked sucked sucked, from one tit to another, until these lovely boobs glistened.
Glenda's bottom was red when she began to assert herself, sliding her tongue down Jil's long, sleek, tan body, licking the down of her midriff, getting nearer and nearer Jil's dripping cunt. The brush had fallen to the floor. Jil appeared helpless in the grip of that fantastically agile tongue.
Mike watched in numb fascination, whipping his cock, as Glenda's lovely head bobbed into Jil's widespread cunt. Jil's gorgeous legs were forked out to a wide angle as the tongue lapped up her pink slit.
Glenda had eased herself to the floor and was on her knees, her body alive with passion, as she burrowed into Jil's tasty hole. The slurping noise sounded like a hungry working man lapping up mashed potatoes and gravy.
The contrast of their bodies, one ivory, the other tan, the two heads swaying in ecstasy, blonde and black, had Mike pumping his cock without mercy.
Jil St, Clair's hands were entwined in Glenda's hair, playing with it, running long fingers through swatches of glossy black as Glenda buried herself deeper and deeper up that lovely cunt.
Jil's cunt lips were spread so wide that now and then Mike saw the wide gap of ripe, oozing, watermelon-pink pussy when Glenda took a breather.
Urged on by his overpowering need, he rose with a pillow in his hand. His cock was straight out, so hard nothing would salve it except juicy clutching cunt.
As Glenda, her ass displayed like a huge apple, tore into Jil, writhing in the chair, he tucked his long cock snugly up Glenda's crack into her cunt. She lurched forward, filled with him, her passion doubled. But the position was awkward.
"Get down on the floor, Jil!" Mike ordered.
As Jil eased from the chair, Glenda turned. Her face was a mask of cunt juice. It dripped from her mouth. She looked like some kind of sex vampire. But it turned him on. He pulled her to him and kissed her, savoring the taste of Jil's fresh, flaming cunt.
"Now, let's really turn on," Mike said. "Do what you were doing, Glenda. Tuck this under Jil." He handed Glenda the pillow.
Hurriedly Glenda propped the pillow under Jil, arching her cunt for a better sucking position. The archway to her cunt was formed of finely textured tan thighs. Her cunt was dewy. Her opening blushed pink.
Burrowing back into that luscious cunt, Glenda shook her bouncy little butt. All systems "Go."
Mike sent his cock up Glenda's wet cunt like a missile along a trajectory. It hit home-the warm humid cushion of her vagina.
Whenever he pulled back, not wanting to come too soon, Mike took advantage of the view. Jil St. Clair's supine body heightened the hugeness and desirability of her tits. They rolled gently in jellied mounds as Glenda ate her. Her silver hair flashed.
Back in.
He watched as his heavy cock disappeared. Its antics fascinated him. Hide and seek. He kept it buried, rotating in her, driving Glenda into even more dedicated pussy loving. Jil's cunt was an opened slash that dribbled dew.
"Christ, that feels good!" Glenda groaned.
"Amen!" Jil echoed.
He was too busy to respond, lost in the sensation of her wet cunt closing around his grinding spear.
Glenda's whole body seemed on fire; it was tanner and firmer and warmer to the touch. Her vagina coiled heat around his wonderfully turgid prong as she lurched and moaned.
Inspired, he began to slap her butt hard with the callused palms of his hands as he drove into her. He felt like a jockey. The spanking really fired her up.
Such rocking and rearing he'd never witnessed. She began to skewer his cock, doing his work for him. Her head had pulled out of Jil's cunt, she was so excited. A dumb servant to his will.
Then it was his turn to get an extra turnon as the luscious platinum blonde, smiling like a Jean Harlow, crawled toward him. Even her knees were sexy. Round and shiny. Her legs tapered and sleek.
Her mammoth but firm tits sprang out from her chest as she began to lick on his nipples. One at a time, accomodating herself to the rapid movement of his body. The smooth, round peaks of her breasts moved in a kind of heavenly, melon-like blur as she sucked on the buds of his chest.
Reaching out, he grabbed one of her melons. It was resilient, not nearly as firm as he'd thought. He tweaked her nipple. She squealed.
Glenda's ass rolled harder against his spike. He let go of Jil and speared in, determined to give Glenda a good balling before he lunched on Jil's lovely big boobs.
Now he rammed her to the floor, until only her pelvis arched enough for him to keep driving in. The fight was going out of her as he sent stab after stab of hard, driving, hot cock up that slithery pussy.
She came with a squeal. He zoomed his cock from her cunt and presented it to the waiting Jil. Her face was filmy from perspiration; that added to its beauty.
While she slid that long, tasty mouth up and down his stalk, he played with both her tits at the same time. Making them kiss, rolling his palms under them to the silky, tender undersides. Tasting now and then.
He erupted into her like a volcano tossing lava. She drank it up as she kneaded her own huge breasts.
He lay back, lighting a cigarette, relaxed but exhausted. This would be a long day's journey into a longer night.
CHAPTER NINE
Mike parked his Alfa Romeo beside a two-hour meter five blocks from the Convention Center and started walking. He needed the exercise. He also needed the missing piece in his jig-saw puzzle. He figured Colonel Paulmann could provide it.
Within a block of the Center, he saw the ring of yellow buses around the block. Friday matinee. Kids from every town within a hundred miles of Louisville were jampacked into the place.
Showing his pass, he weaved his way through a mass of stampeding children, all arms and legs and mouths, past sellers of popcorn and vendors of cotton candy and novelties. The door to Colonel Paulmann's office was ajar.
Mike lit a cigarette and stepped into the room, half expecting to find the ringmaster dead. But the room was empty, as was the adjoining bathroom.
Examining the desk, Mike found a white scratchpad atop it on which someone, probably the colonel, had doodled. At first glance there seemed no pattern. It was just a maze of doodles-swirls and circles and hastily sketched objects. But as Mike looked closer he discerned a distinct pattern: the shape of a cannon on huge spoked wheels and a figure flying through air, the hands spread like wings. The Great Bollinger!
Pleased, Mike rifled through the desk drawers one by one. In the bottom left one he found an empty Old Crow bottle, probably the one Paulmann had been drinking from when Mike had left him that morning. That meant the colonel was carrying a pretty heavy load wherever he was.
The band was playing "The Star Spangled Banner" when Mike left the Center by a side entrance, stepping back into the heat.
A man on a drinking spree would head for the closest bar.
With that in mind, Mike started for Tony's Place, a half block away. The minute he poked his head into the refrigerated cubicle that was Tony's, he saw the colonel wasn't there. In that chicken house of a bar, the colonel would've stood out like a buzzard among sparrows.
Mike moved on, rings of sweat gathering under his arms, his shirt pasting itself to his back. He ducked into every bar within two blocks of the Center, checking twenty-three watering spas. But no sign of Paulmann. The great rare bird had flown the coop.
Mike trudged back toward his car. The heat seemed to be hammering him into the pavement. Layers of heat distorted everything. The concrete sidewalk seemed like scratchy, hard sandpaper.
The red flag was up on the parking meter when he reached his car and a parking ticket had been tucked neatly under his windshield wiper.
Damn! A fucking ten dollar fine.
He kicked the parking meter pole as he pocketed the ticket and opened his car door. The heat exploded from the closed car and nearly bowled him over. He half crawled into the car, rolling down the windows and starting it.
It would be relaxing to take a shower and rest. He knew he'd be staked out most of the night at Jesse Inlander's hoping to pick up his trail. Now he was looking for four people instead of three.
For a while he considered calling in another operative, Fred Willis, to give him a hand. He didn't mind paying Fred, but he'd rather not be bothered with the man, with his single-spaced observations that filled page after page.
The fight through late afternoon traffic wasn't any picnic either. When he reached his apartment building's parking lot, he drew back in the leather seat and practiced Yoga. In a few minutes he felt fresher. He lit a Winston and started into the building.
The bright, phosphorescent poster tacked to his door assaulted his eyes. It was a likeness of Bunny Barlow, in a string bra and string bikini-all orange. Probably it moved in the dark.
When he opened the door, he saw her, stretched out on his four-pillow sofa smoking a cigarette while she watched the news on TV. Long and cool. She wasn't wearing a thing except her ten-thousand dollar dinner ring.
"Daddy's home!" she chimed, when she saw him. "Daddy's whipped!" he grunted.
"I've told you, honey, to stay out of that five o'clock traffic. It's not good for your lungs or your nerves."
"Fix me a drink, you bitch!" he said goodnaturedly. "Scotch?"
"Yeah ... and a tall glass of cold cold ginger ale on the side."
He flipped off his jacket and stood in front of the 8,000 BTU air conditioning unit in the window frame. The cool air fanning his back and spinning into his ass crack began to revive him.
Bunny bounced his way with a drink in each hand.
"Here, darling!" she cooed.
He drank scotch and then cooled its descent with the icy ginger ale. She kissed his wet lips when he lowered the glass of ginger ale, moving her cool body against his.
"Isn't the poster cute?" she said, stepping back, her hands on her hips.
"It doesn't do you justice!" he said. "How?"
"You're bigger in the boobs, baby!"
"Oh, who cares about that. It shines in the dark. Mike, they've run off fifty-thousand of those. I get fifty cents for each one sold."
"Baby, you're going to be a millionaire without even trying."
"They're after me for the flicks now, the skin flicks. That's where the big money is."
"Well?"
"Well, I have some reservations. That business isn't exactly ... moral."
"Ah, they're just big kids playing around with sex, Bunny. It's all a fun thing ... if everybody spent his nervous energy balling or jacking off or watching skin flicks we wouldn't have any violence or gang fights or wars, you can believe that."
She took his hand and pulled, leading him toward the sofa. Her long blond hair trailed down her back, brushing against it as she led the way to the sofa. She pulled him down beside her and gave him a hard, lingering kiss, both her hands behind his head, holding him tightly to her.
"I've got some bad news, Mike," she said, batting her eyes. "The act's booked into Cincinnati. We'll be leaving tonight. We'll be there two weeks and then I'm going to vacation for ten days in Bermuda with three friends."
"Shit, I'm not so old and decrepit I can't buzz up to Cincinnati!"
"Oh goody, goody," she said, as pleased as a child at a surprise birthday party. "Mike, I've got something new to model for you. I'll be wearing it on my vacation."
"Well, put it on," he said.
"You get comfortable while I'm climbing into it, okay?"
He took off the rest of his clothes, down to his boxers, and his shoes and socks. In the cool comfort of his own living room, with a beautiful broad about to do a private show for him, he began to unwind. He finished his scotch and prepared another.
He was watching a big-titted weathergirl on TV explain the cloudy swirls of a weather map when two hands descended in a blindfold over his eyes.
Bunny had tiptoed up behind him.
"Turn around!" she said.
He turned his head, sweeping his eyes up a smooth, sexy expanse of rubber. Blue-black rubber that fit her like a glove.
Modeling the skin diver's suit, she turned to show its backside. It fit like onion skin, rolling smoothly over her well-contoured buttocks. It fit so well, snug to her skin, that even her legs were shaplier, poured into the rubber mold. Her blond hair against the blue-black rubber looked remarkably alive and light.
She pirouetted around, facing him.
"Sexy, isn't it? I'm taking diving lessons. By the time vacation rolls around I want to be able to dive for shells and things."
His cock had made a tent out of his boxers. The heat of his prick was spreading to his loins.
"If you parade up and down the beach in that costume, Bunny, you'll be spending all your time getting away from men, believe me."
"I didn't buy it for that!" she said, spice in her voice. "I can't help it if I have a nice body. I'm not going to wear a skin that fits me like baggy pants."
"Just beware, kid!"
"It really turns you on?"
"Dammit, you know it!"
"It's even sexier when it's wet The rubber's like skin. It gathers water in dew drops. Sexy!"
He was wondering how a spray of hot come would look streaking up the front side.
Getting up, he was fully aware of his erection. She was too. It stood out, lurching against the white fabric of his boxers.
She reached for it, scrambling inside his boxers, and released it. She stroked it firmly and it responded by growing firmer and hotter.
Without ceremony, knowing his tastes, she bent to her shiny knees, shaking her blond hair before she enveloped his tremendously turgid tool in the suction of her rich wet mouth. She eased over it, teasing it with her lips.
The sight of her, blonde in blue-black rubber, going down on him, sent ripples of pleasure through his balls. He'd miss Bunny. She might be a dumb blonde in some ways, but when it came to sex she was a superstar. She knew what turned a man on. She put variety into her sexual encounters. Didn't play the field either. Found a guy she liked and showered him with love and sex. When she grew tired of him, she moved on. One at a time.
She began to gyrate as she sucked, spinning around the girth of his cock. Her lipstick was frosty and pink, a perfect, tight band around his cock. It was like a snug rubber. She was like one huge rubber, fitting onto him.
Now she slid into long, lush stroking, up the length of his sword to its hilt and back out again. Her long, cool fingers fondled his hairy hot balls as she sucked, adding to his pleasure.
The suit, skin tight as it was, made her body seem black. Yet her tan face and blond hair emerged from it. The effect was devastating. She was like some goddess of mythology.
He didn't want to come in her mouth. He wanted to fuck her hard in that lovely blue-black suit, sliding his body against the cool, smooth surface, feeling her tremble beneath her tight-fitting second skin.
He pulled his cock out with a loud slurp. She looked disappointed.
But as he lowered his body, she got the message. His hand groped and found the concealed zipper, coasting it quickly up its track.
It was like splitting open a rare, thin-skinned ebony nut. Her shimmery pink cunt eye peeked out at him in its nest of blond hair.
He guided his cock in, so evenly it made no noise. She cloaked his prick with the moist hood of her vagina. For a moment they bathed in the thrill of entry. Their snugness had always been something special. They were like plumbing that fitted perfectly. He was big. She was big. But they molded into one without any friction.
He began a slow, even pumping, the best. Her tits seemed to swell against the rubber. Hard black tits. The nipples were faintly outlined.
Around his back she wrapped her rubber clothed legs. They were cool and smooth, sliding and pecking against his back as he fucked her.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
"Long and silky," she answered. "How does it feel to you?"
"Cool and smooth."
Her rubbered hips, pressed against the carpeting, made slight hissing noises, as she writhed beneath him.
His cock probed deeper into her wetness, slipping far up her vagina.
"Who's ever going to fuck me like this!" she panted. "Who? I've got half a mind to take a job as a counter girl so I can stay in this town with you."
Such high praise. It always turned him on. And she knew it. Most gals have a purse of tricks to turn a man on. This gal carried around a shopping bag brimming over with them.
As he plied her with his fat cock, her cunt responded baldly to his lunges, vibrating wetly up and down the slick pole that rode into her.
Her eyes blazed with lust as he began to fuck her faster and faster. His hot cock bolted her helplessly to the floor in a blur of action. With his piss hard-on he felt as hard as a rod of steel.
He buffeted his tumid, thick cock, wringing wet, again and again into the wet, yielding sponge of-her cunt. Still, his hardness persisted and grew.
His jarring thrusts were awakening the perineal nerve masses. She began to buck like a young colt. He loved it, absorbing her frenzied bouncing with the hardness and thickness of his cock.
Her whole body tingled and shook from the heavy pounding he was inflicting. All his anger and frustration from a hard day seemed to flow into his cock, turning it a furious red, forging it steel hard.
He was balling her so hard sweat ringed his armpits and rolled down his body onto her rubber suit.
Plunge after plunge, his cock remained stiff, not yielding up its sperm. She had come twice, writhing and groaning, but he'd hardly noticed.
As her juices boiled again toward orgasm, she dug her fingers into his rib cage as she twisted and squirmed beneath him. His big round knob, grinding into her, was making her cauldron of come boiling hot, about to brim over.
Her cunt wrapped around the head of its ugly, red invader, a cloak of wet tissue dipped in the heat of a blazing lust. Tremors shook her entire body. She peaked and her body lost it tautness.
The walls of her vagina lapped helplessly against his cock. It cried for relief.
He drove in callously, his eyes fixed on her lovely face. Oval and blond. He felt his cock jerk sperm into her, glob after glob of it.
She smiled.
"It's about time!" she said.
CHAPTER TEN
Mike checked the luminous face of his watch and yawned. 3:10. Pitch black. Been here five hours.
He lit a cigarette and started the engine, turning on the radio at the same time, to an all-night station, getting some rock to keep him alert.
At 3:33 a.m. Urlander's Monarch passed Mike and pulled into the alley behind the apartment building where he lived. Anxiously Mike waited, hoping that the car would re-emerge from the alley.
Ten ... fifteen ... twenty minutes passed. Finally the green Monarch reappeared. From his position in the facing alley, Mike nosed out his Alfa Romeo, following the green car. Once on the boulevard, Urlander drove fast through the heart of Louisville, entering I-64 from the St. Catherine Street approach.
Mike stayed well behind the Monarch, which seemed to be bound for Indiana, but then, just short of the John F. Kennedy Bridge, the car spun off to the right onto a spur that led into I-71, toward Cincinnati.
Mike enjoyed the fast driving. It was snapping him out of his lethargy. The Alfa Romeo hummed with the demands made on it. The speed dial hovered at seventy-five.
If a cop gets on my tail, I'm dead.
But Urlander slowed the Monarch, taking the Brownsboro Road exit and then another right, finally turning into an exclusive subdivision. Well cared-for lawns, gas street lights. Box shrubbery, huge shade trees.
Mike doused his headlights, trailing three blocks behind. The Monarch's tail lights shrank to just red spots but he kept them in sight.
The red spots vanished.
Mike parked and hurried up the street, catching sight of Urlander heading up the sidewalk into a brick townhouse. Twenty-three fourteen Nachez Drive.
A creamy glow emanated from the living room of the townhouse, but the drapes were drawn tight, blocking off the front windows. Mike -edged toward the right window.
Damn shrubbery!
He scissored his body between two Canadian hemlock trees and placed his listening device to the window. He took his time, knowing the risks of discovery. The area was well illuminated. That bothered him.
Finally he got a fix on the conversation inside. Urlander's voice rose above the others. Mike caught only a fragment: " ... ain't worth it, Jeff."
Cautious, remembering how he'd been colcocked two nights before, he looked up in time to see the police cruiser. Its spotlight was spraying the ground floor of a condominium about a block away. The car was slowly making its way toward him.
Dammit! Private police. They probably come by here every ten minutes.
He released the disc of the Aetna Special from the window and stuffed it into his pocket. Clear of the bushes, he took a few diagonal steps and was on the sidewalk headed toward his car when the police cruiser passed. He was glad he was wearing his Palm Beach.
As a follow-through, he lit a cigarette, ostentatiously, letting the high flame from his Dunhill flare into his face. Slowly, he closed the lighter and pocketed it, inhaling deeply on the Winston.
The cruiser continued to flash its spotlight into doorways and around building foundations as it moved down the long, quiet street. The air was cool and pungent with the smell of greenery. Sunrise wasn't far off.
He mused over the sentence fragment he'd heard.
Jeff. Jefferson Rowlings. What's Jefferson Rowlings alias the Great Bollinger doing in such fancy digs? Why hadn't Rowlings contacted his daughter?
Mike decided to head back to the office. Jefferson Street was orange under the glow of the new street standards when he parked in the modernistic garage near his office. He was anxious now to know the name of the occupant of 2314 Nachez Drive.
He nodded to the night watchman as he entered the Madison Building and took the marble steps, climbing four flights to his office. Inside, he fixed a drink and settled back in his swivel chair with his feet atop his desk.
Opening the bulky City Directory, he found Nachez Drive, running his finger down the column of numbers until it rested opposite twenty-three fourteen. Carlton Ormstead, retired. An alias Rawlings was using? The home of a friend?
Polishing off another half glass of Old Fitzgerald, he stretched out on his couch for a nap. When he awakened he heard Betty's typewriter. His watch registered 9:15. Mid morning.
Jesus!
Stumbling into the bathroom that adjoined his main office, he washed his face and shaved, changing into a spare shirt he kept there.
"Morning!" he said, going into his secretary's office. "What's keeping you so busy?"
"I'm typing that report you gave me yesterday for Mr. Armstrong ... you look tired!"
"I was up most of the night, Betty. Surveillance. Is our Pentax around?"
"Sure," she said cheerfully. "I'll get it for you."
"Be sure it's loaded and bring me an extra roll of film and the telescopic lens," he said, lighting a Winston.
She disappeared into the supply room and in a jiffy came back with the Pentax, lens and film. "Want me to get some hot coffee, Mike?"
"Nah ... I'd better move out."
Too bad she's so fat. She's lovely inside. Best secretary I ever had.
He strapped the Pentax around his neck and pocketed the extra roll of film. Within twenty minutes he was parked a block down the street from 2314 Nachez Drive, fitting the telescopic lens onto the Pentax.
Mike didn't have to wait long. For that he was thankful. It had been a long night, and this kind of tedious investigative work wasn't his forte.
Within twenty minutes the redhead who had been with Urlander two nights before emerged from the townhouse. Pale and pouty. Mike stuck the Pentax out the car's window and snapped three frames of her. Just for the record. She climbed into a waiting Yellow Cab.
Approximately thirty minutes later, Urlander came out, his face flushed. Mike used his Pentax. The big game hadn't appeared yet.
Mike chuckled when Nemo appeared, in a pinstripe suit, wearing dark glasses. Very distinguished looking. After checking around, he got into a Fiat. Apparently he'd arrived during the night, along with the broad.
The Great Bollinger probably called them together to pay them off and tell them to split the scene. He wouldn't want anybody around to blow the whistle on him.
It was nearly lunch time when the Great Bollinger appeared in the doorway. Mike was certain it was he. The man was middle-aged and handsome, with grey hair. He wore an expensive, well-cut grey suit. All doubts about his identity left Mike's mind when the man started up the sidewalk. He limped.
The Great Bollinger crossed the grass and climbed into a new metallic blue Lincoln.
Mike kept the Pentax clicking, getting shots of him from all angles, even after he'd settled in the Lincoln.
The car headed in the opposite direction from Mike, saving him the trouble of hiding behind the Daily Racing Form.
I just wonder what kind of reaction I'll get when I show the photos to Colonel Paulmann.
Mike dropped off the roll of film at a custom lab on Sixth Street with instructions to have the eight by ten glossies ready by three o'clock. Outside the lab he ducked into a pay phone booth, a glass bubble, and called Harrison Aims, an executive with a nationwide credit rating company. Within fifteen minutes he'd called back with an updated financial biography of the Great Bollinger.
Jefferson Rawlings had gone into the explosives business with a young company that was now internationally known, retiring two years ago with a small fortune. He'd legally changed his name to Carlton Ormstead.
Limp from the already intense heat, Mike stopped at the Tic-Toe Bar for a couple of whiskey sours. He gobbled down a corned beef on rye, then drove by his place where he showered and napped.
The photos were ready at three sharp and he was there to pick them up. Taking a quick look, he shoved them back into the manila envelope and hurried to his car. Convention Center was only six blocks away.
He found Colonel Paulmann, pale and hung over, conferring with the circus' business manager, Henry Spalding, when he entered the office.
"Henry, you'll excuse us, please," Colonel Paulmann said to the short, plump business manager. "I'll get with you later." He turned to Mike. "What's up?"
Mike folded back the clasp on the manila envelope and extracted the photos of the Great Bollinger. There were twelve.
Watching the colonel's face closely, he handed them to Paulmann. "He's the guy behind the sabotage!"
It was several moments before Paulmann said anything. His face was a chalky white.
"The Great Bollinger," he said weakly.
"He calls himself Carlton Ormstead now," Mike said.
"You're absolutely sure this man's behind the sabotage?" the colonel asked, pressing a forefinger hard against one of the photos.
"Absolutely," Mike said. "The only thing I can't figure out is why he hated you so much." Mike lit a cigarette as he pulled up a straight chair and sat.
Colonel Paulmann looked old.
"I can tell you that," the colonel said, his voice low. "I should have told you yesterday. Instead, I got so upset I tried to drink the town dry. You see, Jeff Rawlings, the man you know as Carlton Ormstead, and I were partners years ago. We had a show called the Caravan of Marvels. Played the backwater towns, whistle stops. We had one star attraction: Bollinger. The Great Bollinger, the Human Cannonball."
Paulmann paused, lighting a cigar. He puffed hard.
"God, he could draw the crowds. Those hicks' eyes would pop right out when his assistant, Glenda's mother, lit the fuse and the countdown began before he exploded into the air." The colonel paused. His ringers trembled. He cleared his throat.
"The only problem was, I loved Jeff's wife, Diane. After Jeff's accident, Diane and I seemed to find ourselves together more and more. To make a long story short, we fell in love and I got her pregnant. Jeff found out. He didn't blow up, he just disappeared. I guess his hatred smoldered all these years."
Mike scratched his stubble of beard. "Then you're Glenda's father."
"Yes," the old man said. "Diane was a good woman. After Jeff disappeared she got to feeling guilty. Said the Lord would punish us. She left the circus with our baby. I never saw her again until she was dead. The little girl, of course, was legally his."
"Have you told Glenda?"
"I called her this morning."
"Do you want to take any action against Rawlings?"
The colonel studied Mike's face. "No ... no, I don't. The man's sick, of course. Something should be done. But I won't be the one to do it."
"You don't want to prosecute Nemo or Urlander either?" Mike asked.
"No ... they were duped into doing his dirty work. He played on their old loyalties."
Even with the check in his wallet, Mike still didn't feel right. It was a sad case. He checked his watch. 4:10. Still a few hours before the evening performance.
Mike started his Alfa Romeo. Two stops to make before he went to Glenda's place.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He rang. It wasn't easy because his hands were full. The door popped open. Mike could tell she'd been crying.
"Surprise!"
"Oh, Mike," she sobbed, releasing the safety chain.
He waved the bouquet of cut flowers in a cone of green paper. Now she really cried. Then he presented her with the oblong box in his left hand.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Open it and see!" he said. It was dressed in white tissue paper with a pink bow around it.
Like a child, all thumbs, she opened the box, pulling back the leaves of wax paper. Inside were bunched pieces of pink and white taffy, individually wrapped.
"I love taffy!" she cried. "How'd you know?"
"I'm a private eye, remember?"
They ate taffy and talked. Gradually, the sadness left her. She even laughed at Mike's jokes.
"I've found a daddy after all," she said.
Mike kissed her on the couch. Her lips were warm and receptive. Her arms wrapped around him.
"I'm not sure I don't love you, Mike English."
"Don't fall in love with me. Really, I hate taffy."
"But you ate six pieces!"
"Just so you wouldn't be lonesome," he said, a smile crinkling the corners of his mouth. "Also, I stay up late and I'm grouchy in the mornings."
"Mike, will you make love to me?" she asked, almost hesitantly.
His hands smoothed over her face, soft, with the faintest trace of wetness around her gentle, blue eyes. "Anything you want, honey," he said.
"Then let's make love in the bathroom!" she said, a little bounce returning to her voice.
"Won't it be a little cramped?"
"You haven't seen my bathroom!" she said.
Laughing, she took him by the hand, leading him into the bathroom. It was huge, nearly as big as the bedroom. A sunken tub three times the normal size sat in its center, a large blue oval. Incense, burning in a brass container atop a dressing table, permeated the room with a heady, oriental aroma. Green plants abounded, some resting in huge enamel pots on the floor, others trailing from small planters hung from the ceiling. Paintings of tropical fish were scattered on the light blue walls. It seemed to Mike that he was underwater.
"It's the reason I rented this apartment," she squealed delightfully. "I've got a thing for bathrooms."
"Where's the John?"
She broke into an absolute spasm of laughter, bending over. "It's a bathroom, silly. You're such a hillbilly sometimes, Mike."
"Just a simple country boy," he said ponderously.
"Take off those hot clothes, Country Boy," she said, coming to him, starting to unbutton his shirt.
He pulled her to him, pressing his mouth hard to hers, startling her with his urgency.
"You are aroused!" she said. "I can feel it!"
He felt her arm moving behind her, finding the zipper of her dress and running it down its track.
"Pull!" she said.
He stepped back, his cock brazenly prominent beneath his fly, pulling the lemony dress as she slid her arms free. It fell in a sparkling lake at her feet and he saw she wore only lemony bikini pants, no bra. Already the nipples of her tits had gotten hard, with that rubbery look they always had when she was really turned on. The fruits of her breasts looked virginal, so smooth and unmarred.
He hungered for them first. Like an appetizer before the main course, he couldn't pass up such delicious fare.
Indulging him, she put both hands around her right tit, lovingly sweeping it up into her palms, eyeing it with the passionate eyes of a Narcissus, but then proffering it to him.
He clamped onto it, inundating it with the juices of his mouth, his tongue roaming its hard little nipple, feeling the puckers of her auriole, tasting the special fragrance of her skin.
While he sucked, she finished unbuttoning his shirt and put her hands to his warm body, teasing him with their satiny coolness. She played with each of his nipples as he sucked on hers. It sent pleasant tingles through his body, that soft, cool, satiny kneading of his own nipples.
"Like that?" she asked.
"It's different. Yeah, I like it."
She continued, painting circles around his nipples with her pointed nails, then pressing them between forefinger and thumb until the pleasure bordered on sweet pain.
He sucked in more tit until his mouth was solid with it, rotating on it across the coating of his own drool, making it smooth and maneuverable. The texture of her tit was extraordinary, soft and silky but faintly grainy to the touch, making it distinctive.
She released one hand from his chest and found his belt buckle, undoing it. Then she zipped open his fly and his pants began to collapse. She shoved and they fell to the floor and he stepped out of them without giving up that tit.
His cock flared out from his boxers, rubbing up to nudge between her legs.
"I feel like I'm on a see-saw!" she said.
"I'll start swinging you before long."
He drew back, taking a long drag of tit, slowly releasing it from his mouth. She bent forward and her tit slurped free. He felt her mouth mash to his right nipple, watering it and warming it, sending a shiver up his spine. She sucked so beautifully, her mass of black hair swaying gently as she changed position, sighs oozing from her body as her rich, wide mouth spun about on his nipple.
She's better than Jil St. Clair at this.
He couldn't deny the sheer pleasure of it. It froze him in position. His mouth fell ajar with the ecstasy of it.
Her mouth dribbled a trail of her sweet effluvia across his chest as she clamped onto his other nipple, giving it the same wet reception, warming it, until his entire chest rippled with the rapture of it.
She revolved around it, pressing and letting up her thick wet lips as it suited her, kissing down, pecking, slurping.
"Come on!" she said, pulling back. She crossed the room, turning on the water taps to fill the oval tub. The water rushed into the sunken tub, creating a mist of steam.
He watched as she brushed out her hair, raven black, trailing down her smooth back and forking over her gorgeous buttocks.
Edging up to her, he peeled off her panties and slowly directed his burning-hot cock between her inviting cheeks until its scorching end touched her wet, waiting cunt. So soft and inviting, it sent tingles through his loins. She jerked, dropping the hair brush to the tile as he piloted his pulsating hammer in deeper.
"Yeow!" she screamed, feeling the bludgeoning force squarely up her cunt.
He drove in even more forcefully, attaching his hands as vises to her rollicking hips, driving her body against the cold enamel of the wash basin, briefly catching in the mirror the look of surprise and surrender on her lovely face as he filled her cunt with his big invader, feeling suddenly her soppy pussy taking hold, the vaginal muscles closing in silky caresses along the thick staff of meat.
He pumped into her fiercely, feeling her whole body quake from the insistent pounding. It liked what it was getting, but he detected a trace of resistance.
The bathroom became dense with steam as the tub filled. A soft mist cloaked their bodies.
"Can't you wait?" she asked. "It'll be more fun in the tub!"
"I'll fuck you again in the tub," he blurted out, not missing a lick in his rhythm, her body plastered helplessly against the basin.
"But...." she protested.
He bucked into her, his dick arching high so that it walloped her large clit, grooving into it. Then in a burst of quick jabs, he began screwing against that rubbery little finger at the roof of her humid pussy with wanton dedication.
No complaints now. She's limp with pleasure.
"Let's get into the tub," he said sarcastically.
"No Mike, please," she panted. "Finish. Deliver me."
She was humping him so hard he relaxed his own efforts, letting her do the work, churning around on his fat cockhead like a bitch in heat, her vaginal sap swamping his pecker in a sticky, rich wetness. While she churned he held steady, occasionally pushing in harder to assert the supremacy of his cock, deliberately throwing her off rhythm. He wallowed in her frantic efforts to fit her gushing hot pussy back onto the gigantic red rod that was giving her so much bliss. He controlled her rolling ass to some degree through the use of his strong hands, adjusting first one gorgeous ass cheek and then the other.
She splayed her long silky legs wider, wanting more, and bent so that her smooth buttocks, squeezing against his palms, fanned open more, allowing him to cram still more driving cock up her.
Her ass began shaking violently from her rapture, her skin aglow with her passion, low animal-like sounds erupting from her mouth.
She was swallowing up his prick, taking every thick inch of it, her backward movements strong, in a sheer spasm of lust. He ground into her firm young body so hard that a smacking sound split the air on each contact. He corked her with his mammoth cock, filling that hot cunt so full it seemed ready to burst, spewing out their juices.
Into her his pecker rushed, its strokes so rapid she gasped, unable to cushion some of his dynamic entries. Tightening his hold with his hands, trying to control her springy buttocks and her frenzied humping, he skewered her. Deeper and deeper he drove, giving her a drubbing she'd never forget. His pussy-loving balls swelled with come wanting release, larva-like come that swirled madly, held back by the weakening dam of his self-control.
Maddened by his bigness, she oiled his cock with massive doses of hot vaginal nectar.
His sweaty, hairy scrotum banged a wet tattoo against her outer cunt. Tingles invaded his ass and spread down his legs.
Her vibrations paled for a moment as she tried to straighten up.
"It's so long and lovely and thick up me!" she said. "I want it forever. I want to keep it."
With absolute abandonment she arched back sinuously into the mighty cock that so audaciously rode into her, meeting its plunges, inspired by her own lustful thoughts. She loved its power, sating herself on its warmth and its length and its girth.
He felt her large, slippery clit pop free of her body in its excitement. Expertly he rammed his coveted tool back in, stabbing her anxious clit with his phallic fury. Her head oscillated with her passion, her glossy, shiny hair spinning delightfully before him, almost fanning his in-driving cock.
Another woman could love her to death with that big clit of hers. I'd love to see that ripe-mouthed silver blonde with the jungle eyes sucking on Glenda's big, slippery clit. Wow!
Before him, Glenda's silky-hard buttocks, dimpled as she strained them, moved and molded around his cock so lovingly the mere sight of them almost triggered his orgasm. But he closed his eyes and prolonged his pleasure, torturing that huge clit he'd driven back into her body with long, hot stroking that mashed it into oblivion.
His hairy thighs crushed heavily against her, so that she felt body force as well as cock force.
As he coasted into her pliant, young body, inflaming and filling her eager cunt, she panted hot breath.
His sense of conquest complete, he balled her so brusquely he became slightly dizzy with the effort. The growing mist in the room seemed to cloud his brain even more.
Hot cunt and humid room.
Her spasms became more pronounced, her hunching unbelievably potent, but he didn't let up now, determined that she'd have her orgasm first.
Wave after wave of pleasure fell across his cockhead as she came, her whole body thanking him. Sighs broke from her in ribbons.
"Oh, Mike ... Mike ... oh Mike ... you're some lover!"
But he was still very hard and still in her and still horny, riding down a still bouncy young butt into that nest of wringing wet, pleased pussy.
Stabbing viciously, driving out her grateful sighs and mutterings, he sought deliverance himself.
"Oh, baby!" he whispered, feeling the cresting come. "Oh, baby!" Lost now in the world of his own supreme rapture.
"Give me all of that colossal prick," she said, urging him on.
Coming hard, he leaned into her as his sperm spurted forth copiously.
Sated, they stretched out on the tile, their bodies enveloped in blankets of steam, so weak they were con-, tent just to savor the beautiful memory of their sexual feast as the heady fragrance of the bath beads, Garden of Love, seeped into their nostrils.
She was the first to rise, about twenty minutes later. He watched her body with a sense of ownership as she tested the water with her toes, cocking her leg so that its muscular but silky calf muscles pressed enticingly hard against the skin.
Hurriedly, she withdrew her leg, finding the water hot. She bent to turn on the cold water tap, giving him a magnificent view of her broad but trim backend. Sleek. Firm and bouncy, twin demiglobes that knew how to draw tight to hug a huge cock that wedged between them. Shadows flickered across her smooth buttocks as she changed her body position.
He followed her movements with increasing interest, his cock rising like a Phoenix from the ashes. Languidly, she slid into the tub and stretched, throwing her hands high into the air in a luxurious yawn. Her tits lurched forth, firm and desirable, seeming much larger and more inviting with her arms raised.
His red wand grew bigger and harder and began to feel like an orphan. He whacked it several times, only to fatten its girth and lengthen it.
Through the veil of glossy black hair over her face, beautifully framing it, her cobalt blue eyes lit up with flames of passion as they watched him jacking off, seeing his fat cockhead emerging red and round from the cup of his hand, faster and faster.
"Don't come!" she said.
He rose, slowing his hand movements, finally releasing his cock from his hand. It plunged forward into open air, pulsating and red, its proud head shiny, insolently arched high from a powerful stalk.
"Wow! It's bigger than before!" Glenda squealed, her voice oozing delight. She smacked her lips and playfully splashed water at him, trying to hit his cock. But she kept missing.
He stopped at the tub's edge and watched her delirious activity. She continued splashing water at him, emerging and then submerging herself in the vast tub until her body was beaded with water and her hair wet.
He slid into the blue-colored water, reaching for her, but she slipped like an eel from his grasp. He stalked her, the water nearly to his waist in the deep tub, pinning her back on the slippery far turn.
The water gave her body a magically smooth patina, so that his hands floated across her round surfaces. She sighed as he stroked her tits, both at the same time, running his hard, callused palms from the super-soft undersides forward to make circles around her firming nipples and then pulling forward, urging those pods from their springy moorings.
Her tits felt larger and silkier with their coatings of water. Like dew, it sat on her pink-brown nipples, turning them into water lilies.
Releasing his hands, he fixed his mouth to her right nipple, watery and hard, fragrant. He bit softly, eliciting a squeal from her, then nibbled, slowly opening his mouth wide to encompass her entire auriole with his wet, hot mouth, rotating it until she was writhing in passion.
He switched to the other tit, sucking in a mouthful of softness and slowly pulling back, until only the round turret of pink-brown nipple remained in his lips, teasing it with his smacking attention.
Unable to bear any more, she lunged forward, planting her mouth on his, pressing her tits so that the nipples peppered him with pleasure against his chest.
As they kissed, she lathered soap onto her body, making a crown of suds around her cunt. Then she lathered his cock so that it was sheathed from base to glans with a bubbling coat.
With his foot he tapped the fixture that opened the drain. As the water level fell, he sat her on his upright cock. She wound her long, wet legs around his hips.
"Now bounce!" he said.
The warm water lapped around their joined bodies as she began to pop up and down on his hard, hot cock. The sensation was intensified by the swirling water and the bubbling lather.
Hidden beneath the suds, his lathered cock popped into the white cloud of her cunt.
Each time he entered her new bubbles popped to the surface. The water churned around them.
It was all wet sex. Smooth and wet. He stabbed into her roughly, laying her back on the tub's bottom in an inch of water as he put his raging meat far up her.
Her hips wiggled in the water with slushing sounds that turned him on more. Wet and warm that cunt, cleansed each time he sent his cock up it with its coating of suds.
"Yoweeee ... why didn't we think of this before!" she cried out. "Mike, is this the first time you fucked in a tub?"
"Yep ... I can see how it might become a habit." He had lied. Or at best hold a half truth. He'd fucked plenty of broads in showers. But this was different. More intimate. "Deeper," she asked.
He obliged, sending one powerful long stroke that reached for her kidneys. A streak of pain crossed her face.
"Not that deep!" she said.
Mike settled into a pace that put his cock snugly up her flooded cunt on each stroke. The fluffy, circling compress of her cunt closed around his prick as if it were a rare treasure.
The water level continued to sink.
He was balling her so steadily now that her slick buttocks were sliding to and fro along the tub's enamel. The sound was sexy.
His body smacked hard against the slick, wet rises of her thighs on each forward movement, sending his extra stiff cock ploughing into the fiery, dripping furnace of her cunt.
Burying his huge cock in her, he kept it there, turning it around slowly, warm and tight in her, enveloped in appreciative pussy that had stretched wonderfully well all around his thickness.
She lurched and moaned as she went after his cock, wanting it as much as he wanted her sweet cunt. She smothered his rampant masculinity with her vibrating vagina closing around it.
Hotter now, she massaged her lips with her tongue. Her nostrils flared. Her breath became labored.
Her body awakened to a newer level of lust as she drove herself mercilessly onto his pole, splitting herself open to the core with her demands.
"Wheeeeeee!" she cried. "Hot damn."
He wondered where in the hell she'd picked up such language. It only inflamed him more.
"I can't bear it!" she screamed.
But Mike noticed she was bearing up unusually well. She was humping him so damn hard now he had to support his hips with his hands to keep from slipping.
Funny things about women. A lot of times they say the opposite of what they mean.
Her navel eyed him sensuously from her hard, flat, tan belly as he began playing with her tits as he balled her. They were insolent tits, taut, at first bouncing from his grasp. But he made catcher's mitts out of his hands and pocketed them, savoring the tender tender flesh of those smooth mounds.
Her supple, nude body in water wiggled from head to toe as he fed more cock to her. She was like an alcoholic with an unquenchable thirst for his body.
More he poured to her, hard jabs of red cock, so thick it half terrified him to see her rather small body accept all that.
Brutally, he kneaded her tits as she churned under him, sinking his hands deep into them as if they were pillows.
She groaned as he went in and sighed as he back-stroked. She seemed afraid his long backstrokes would take his cock from her, so she kept her vagina wrapped hard and wet around it, snapping on it whenever it threatened exodus.
Both of them had become oblivious to the hardness of the tub. Their own pleasure was peaking so high they could've been fucking on hot coals.
The sheen of water polished her midriff and her breasts, making them slick to his touch.
The urgency to come invaded his balls. He pumped harder. His cock had worn off its coat of suds. Now it was pink. A pink rod with a furious red-purple head the size of a large onion.
"Christ, you've got a whopper of a cock!" she cried out. "Keep it in me!"
She surprised him, coming before he did. She wallowed in her orgasm, spinning her cunt like a top around on his cockhead. The tremors died and her body lost its rigidity.
He started driving hard, wanting to empty his ball's contents. A long, guttural groan hurled from her mouth, such was the fury of his pronging entries.
As the drain gurgled and coughed, accepting the last of the blue tinted water, he shot a long stream of pearly come up her choice cunt.
He stayed in her for a long time, savoring it all.
