A colorful country story involving politics. The author takes us into a rural community where, in the beginning, a political race was on the up and up. But then the candidate's mother-in-law entered the race in opposition, and all sexual hell broke out. One hasn't any real proof that in politics this particular type of sex tirade captivates a race for office, but one does know from past history that many disadvantages are used by both winners and losers alike.
Verne Holmes was unfortunate enough to have a pretty wife who came to his aid by using her body to gain votes for him. Then, what was worse, his young daughter was also persuaded to use her beauty and sex as vote getters.
And when pretty Grandmother began cam-pagning for herself-in competition to her daughter and granddaughter-the whole yarn becomes sexually hilarious.
Before it was all over, nobody cared who the candidates were or whether or not either won. Grandma's body and sexual ability gained a lot of ground before circumstances lent a hand to settle all the difference....
CHAPTER ONE
Golden-haired Victoria Holmes glanced at the office door as George Hamilton slid an arm around her. She grinned up into his broad, smiling face, fitted her curves to his massive body, and felt the heat of wanting him to lay her.
"Are you sure you locked the door, George?"
"After all these years, why would I forget?"
"You have so many problems, George."
"All we politicians have problems. I have only one just now."
She bumped her belly to his and slid her hand between them.
"I'm here to help you get the solution."
His mouth swooped onto her full lips, and his tongue darted between them. His hand moved down her back to grasp first one soft hip and then the other.
She pulled her mouth free.
"Oh, George ... darling-g."
His hand on her hip wadded her dress high. Then it felt hot and rough through her gauzy panties.
"I've finally convinced Verne to run for that councilman-at-large vacancy that'll be on the ballot this fall."
"Let's not talk about my husband while we're...."
"You love Verne, and you want to help the lazybones get ahead, don't you?"
"George, please." She ground her pussy against him and writhed as if she were in the midst of screwing.
"Sixteen years as a justice of the peace should've set him up for a seat on the city council."
"George?"
"Yes, Vicki?"
"Please?"
"I must be getting old. It takes longer to get it up."
"I can help you."
She unzipped his fly and clawed for his thick, greasy cock. She gasped, as she always did, when his slick dick lay in the palm of her hand-She jacked him rapidly back and forth.
She raised her dress and stripped off her panties, then looped an arm around his neck and her legs around his waist. She guided him easily into her pussy.
George grunted, and his hands became a saddle for her flexing hips. He walked awkwardly toward his office couch.
She felt him still growing. Her vagina quivered around its guest. She sighed and closed her eyes. As he bent to lay her along the vinyl-covered seat cushions, she murmured:
"Make this a good one, darling."
He did. He socked his meat into her as she toed off her high-heeled shoes up over his back.
"My dress ... it'll ... ugh! ... get wrinkled."
"Hell with your dress. Get some life in your ass!"
An arm slid beneath her. His other hand frantically opened the top of her dress and plunged into her brassiere.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry, honey."
Then she didn't care how much he hurt her, for the teeth of his zipper sawed over her clitoris.
"Ohhh, George! George. Harder!"
So harder he drove his cock into her, and drops of perspiration dripped from his chin onto her closed eyelids. Each long and deep stroke ended with a grinding, brutal thrust.
"Uh! Oh, George!"
Faster he plunged, and faster she rose up to meet his every plunge.
A quiver came to the soft skin of her belly that was dented by his belt buckle. There came a fluttering of her insides, a tightening of deep muscles, an automatic milking of his throbbing peter, a sudden stillness in there; and she knew she was about to climax.
"Fill me," she gasped, groaning and clawing at his back. "Fill me."
Fill her he did, in answer to the inner earthquake of her coming. There started at once the swampy sounds of a too-full woman.
"Ohhh, George!"
Her heels beat his hips until he stopped pumping into her, and her legs fell from around his back. She lay smiling in closedeyed appreciation.
"Darling," she panted, "you're the most."
"Am I a better man than Verne?"
George backed away from the harbor of her soft thighs.
"Please don't speak of him at a time like this. Now you've spoiled it."
"Sorry, dear."
George stood beside the best piece of tail he had ever found.
"Do you remember the first time we screwed, Vicki?"
"Of course. I'll never forget it."
She swung her feet to the floor and sat up. She tidied her rumpled dress as best she could.
"You were two months pregnant with Helen, and you were hotter than hell."
"How shocked I was when you told me you were going to fuck me. How happy you were that you could stick it into me barefoot because, as you said, I couldn't get knocked up twice in the same nine months." She laughed. "How naive I was in those days."
"Not so naive that you hadn't been letting the boys bang you before you trapped Verne and stole him from your mother."
"I did not trap him. He'd been asking me to marry him each time we screwed, while I was in college. If those fraternity fellows hadn't gang banged me and knocked me up in the basement of that fraternity house on Neil Avenue, I might never have married Verne. But why do you bring all this up just now?"
"It was my way of telling you the main reason why I want to help Verne get ahead.
He's too quiet to become a first-rate politician. He's lazy and a real zero. But he does everything I tell him to. I believe he might eventually make a good local front man for our party, but it's mostly because I want to show my appreciation for our love sessions."
"I like being Mrs. Holmes, and I hate to think of how I cheat on Verne. There's something about you, George, that really turns me on. Maybe it's because you're an older man. I just can't help myself."
"Why try? We have our fun and hurt nobody."
"Except Verne."
"What he doesn't know can't hurt him. It's yourself you hurt when you worry about what we .do. Don't be such a square, Vicki."
He sat beside her.
"To get back to his career, you can help campaign for him. There are four precincts here in Mason, and each are divided into four wards. In a general election, the precinct captains and the ward leaders can influence more voters than can a lone candidate without their help. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Not exactly."
"Most of the ward leaders are men, and most of them like a strange piece of tail now and then. You have a certain something about you that turns men on-even when they see you for the first time. Believe me, with your talents you can really hump Verne into office."
"Do you mean to say I should ... uh ... farm out my so-called talents to every Tom, Dick and Harry?"
"Only to those who can help Verne."
"No, George. Why, that would make me the same as a...."
"Every woman who loves her husband wants to help him. You said you love Verne, or do you love him enough for that?"
"I ... I think so. But, George, there are surely other ways I could help him, such as visiting womens' clubs and talking to their members. That sort of thing."
"Vicki, from long experience, I know there is nothing that can influence he-men as much as screwing a woman with an educated pussy."
"Oh, no, George! Not that! I can understand a woman taking on her husband's boss to help promote him. That's almost second nature for a woman, but I think that's as far as she should go."
"You have a choice: Either Verne moves along with his career with your help, or, without it, he stays as a mere J.P. and a bust as an attorney. When he was on my staff, I could see he didn't have the savvy to make a good lawyer. Politics is his only way up."
"But I just don't know if I can force myself to take on other men, even to help Verne." She shuddered.
"You enjoy it when I screw you."
"Yes, but that's different. It's almost as if I'd married both you and Verne. I've been a wife to you both for about the same length of time." She thought of how the passions of both men for her had lessened, as if they were suffering from marital ennui.
"Ben Franklin once said, 'In the dark, all cats look gray.' "
"Yes, but he was talking of pussys. There's more difference between peters than there is between pussys. I can remember that much from my high school and college days."
George stood, as if to dismiss Vicki.
"I'm telling you there's only one fairly sure way of helping Verne. If you can't go the route, I'm through boosting that strictly-from-nothing husband of yours."
"Please, George."
"You heard me. It's got to be 'yes' or 'no'. So make up your mind. Hell, you can forget the guy as soon as it's over."
"That's what you think."
She clearly remembered every cock that had been slipped into her.
"I'll try one ward leader and see how I feel afterward. But for God's sake don't let Verne know about it."
George grinned, leaned over, and once more his tongue was flapping in her suctioning mouth.
"I'll set up an appointment with the most attractive ward man I can find. We wouldn't want you to get scared off by the very first ward leader to fuck you."
He chuckled as she stomped past him, out of his office.
As Victoria drove home, the enormity of what she had agreed to do drove her thoughts into nostalgia. She relished the play back of the first time George had laid her. She thought of how she had gotten her husband, and of how she had acquired her shapely, flame-haired daughter Helen.
She recalled telling an intimate girl friend, Maribel Hughes, how it had happened.
"I was the unwilling hostess for a bunch of college boys on an old mattress in the basement of the Smelta Thi fraternity house. One of the boys at the party got carried away. He jammed his fingers deep inside me, fished around, and pulled out my diaphragm. The Pill had not yet been invented. I was awfully humiliated when he held up my dripping diaphragm and pretended to auction it off to the highest bidder.
"I remember yelling for him to put it back, and I tried to rise from the mattress. But the fellows thought it would be a great camp to see me wandering around the campus with a swollen belly, wondering whose bastard I was carrying.
"Albert, the red-haired boy who had escorted me to the party, was the first boy to screw me, after my protection had been stolen. I kicked and flounced around, because I was sure it was the right time of the month for me to get knocked up.
"The fraternity brothers pitched in and spread my kicking legs. Hands held my arms bent up beside my head as other hands played with my boobies and pretty pussy to get me hot. Albert knelt, waiting, between my quivering thighs."
Maribel sighed across the kitchen table.
"Could you ... uh ... could you see his cock going into you?"
Victoria shuddered and looked ecstatic.
"Ohhh, yes." She smiled and winked.
"I grunted, as I always do when a man goes in, and my body tried to jerk away from Albert, but he socked it into me like there'd be no tomorrow. For the first time in all our love akings, he hurt me. But after the first pain, I liked his roughness so much that I forgot I was naked in public. I guess I really went wild. I asked him to pull out before he came, and I believe he intended to, but one of the other boys sat on his ass, sealing us together. When his load came, it filled me. A writhing within my belly told me I too was ready to come.
"Anyhow, when Verne next asked me to marry him, I told him of my rape. Since I'm a candid sort of-woman, I wanted dear Verne to know how things were with me.
"'Well, Vicki,' he said, 'if you have a baby, it'll be yours and mine. Anything of yours I'll love as I love you. Don't let it worry you. Just marry me, and everything'll come out all right.' "
Vicki stared at Maribel and raised her eyebrows.
"How could I say no? He had earned my loyalty and love. There could be few things I wouldn't do for Verne."
"So that's how come Verne has graying, dark hair, and Helen is a redhead?" Maribel had mused.
When she turned into her driveway in Upper Oakcrest, Vicki heard loud rock music screaming from inside the house. Helen was at home.
CHAPTER TWO
Helen was sprawled in a chair, her foot stomping the floor with the beat of the rock music. She looked ripe, fresh, and enticing. Soon, Vicki thought, some boy or man would lay her, if they hadn't already.
"Did you see Uncle George, Mother?"
Vicki started.
"Uncle George?"
"You said you were going to Hamilton's office to talk about Daddy running for councilman. Wouldn't it be groovy if Daddy wins the election?"
"I'm going to try to convince some politicians to back Verne. George is setting up an appointment for me to meet a ward leader."
"Let me go with you. Maybe I can help convince him to swing his weight for Daddy-the family man act, you know."
"No! I mean, no, thanks, Helen."
"Daddy'll be proud of you."
"It's going to be a secret meeting. We can't let anyone of the other party accuse us of anything that might hurt your father's chances. I'm not even going to tell him, because he might think I was interfering. Do you promise you won't tell, Helen?"
"If you think that's the best way for Daddy to get the backing he needs."
"It's the only way. He can't possibly go the route alone."
"I'll never say anything to him, Mother."
Vicki hurried upstairs to the master bedroom and its adjoining bathroom. She wanted to wash whatever remained of Hamilton out of her before Verne came home. He had been asking questions for the past couple of years that told Vicki of his gnawing suspicion that she had a "thing" for Hamilton.
Thinking of Hamilton, Vicki felt her nipples harden as she undressed for her bath. There was something about older men that attracted her to them, and George had almost become an obsession. She wasn't alone in feeling his magnetism. Helen too was evidently hung up on the white-haired man who was nearly old enough to be her grandfather. Vicki drew a curtain across her mental picture of George screwing the bejeezus out of Helen.
Now that the girl had developed into a sexy looking, hot-eyed deb and having seen Hamilton lick his lips each time he'd seen Helen, Vicki decided they should both stay away from Hamilton. For years she had wanted to break away from being his couch slave. Now, she had an additional reason to stay clear of him.
She lay soaking in a bathtub full of sudsy water that was loaded with perfumed bath oil. Verne always liked her to smell sweet as jasmine, because neither of them knew when the notion might strike him to go down on her.
Suddenly she shrieked and looked over her shoulder, when a pair of hands reached beneath her armpits and closed over her big, firm-nippled breasts. She stared, wide eyed, at the grinning face of her husband-the face that looked like Abraham Lincoln's without the beard.
"Why're you home so early, dear?"
"I got the urge to merge. There wasn't any J.P. business to speak of. So I left Jean to take care of filling out the forms, and I came home to screw my wife. How about that? At my age, I get a sudden hard-on. Not bad, huh?" One hand slid down over Vicki's flat belly. "Bend over, dear."
He stepped into the bathtub behind her.
"Verne, no! I'm not ready yet."
"There's always the soap to help out."
He lifted the lathered cake from the soap dish that was set into the tiled wall.
"You won't need that. Just play with me for a moment."
"Where I'm going, I'll need the soap."
"You seem to have gotten a hang-up for buggering me."
"You're so right. Now, relax."
She bent over, resting her hands on her knees. She braced herself for the always painful entry. Then she felt the rubbery head of her husband's soapy cock prodding between her hips.
"Easy, honey. You know I'm goose-e-e!"
He was into her part way. Another slam and he would be all the way up the old dirt road. She bit her lower lip, waiting. She mumbled something about getting the job done. His pubic fur tickled her hips. His up-curving cock stretched her colon, and she felt that she was being used.
His testicles raised and pulsed. Her hands gripped her knees more securely, and she was ready for the fast slams that always brought him to climax. On the back of her neck, the short hairs were dried and fanned by his panting breaths. He grunted and leaned deeply into her as he came.
Vicki sighed, for now she would not have to insert that damned hard plastic douche nozzle. Verne had shot his wad for the day, and he would never know part of Hamilton still soaked deeply within his wife. Then she and Verne stepped shaky legged from the tub.
"Hamilton called to tell me you've agreed to help campaign for my election. Jusy how can you help?"
"George said I might be able to convince most of the ward leaders to back you."
"How? Are you going to let them lay you as you've been letting Hamilton?"
"I've done no such thing!"
"The hell you haven't. You've been fired up for him since right after we were married, when I was working in his law offices."
"That's not so."
She moved to her clothes closet to select an ensemble. "Isn't it?"
"No. I'm getting fed up to here with your suspicions, Verne Holmes. I'm telling you, if you don't stop, I just might take on a man right in front of you, to bust your damned jealousy."
Three days later Hamilton telephoned.
"I was lucky, Vicki. I've made an appointment for you to talk to a precinct captain. He's more than a ward leader. He's the man whom all the leaders in the second precinct follow. His name is Lawrence Sims. I talked him into giving you an hour's audience in unit eleven at the Buskeye Motel. Do you know where it is?"
"No, and I'm not sure I want to know."
"What's wrong? Have you gotten cold feet?"
"It's not that. It's only that I don't want to be screwed by a stranger."
"Now listen, Vicki, I want to see Verne become a councilman-at-large. If you won't be the female bait, I'll find someone who will."
Victoria laughed.
"Who, for instance?"
"Alma, your mother. Nobody would think she's anybody's grandmother. Hell, she even makes my John Henry stand up and point."
"She wouldn't help. She's never forgiven me for taking Verne away from her."
"Yes, and he was banging her before you trapped him."
"I didn't trap him! He would've married me before I got knocked up. I've told you that."
"That's beside the point. If I tell Alma there's something she can do for Verne that you refuse to do, you'll see how quickly she'll jump at the chance."
"Are you trying to threaten me into meeting that man?"
"I certainly am."
"Oh, hell, George! How can you do this to me?"
"It's easy. I owe him a favor, and I'll be doing one for you. Larry's a handsome guy, and I'm told he's quite a skillful cocksman. You could've drawn an S.O.B. for your-ha! ha!-maiden take-off into politics."
"Oh, all right. When am I supposed to be at that motel?"
"Ten o'clock. You've got a whole hour in which to powder your nose."
"Oh, shut up!"
She banged the headset onto its cradle.
Knowing how turned-on men became when they were near her, she showered, tried to recall if she had taken her no-baby pill that morning, dabbed perfume between her large breasts and on the yellow fur of her pussy. She dressed carefully, leaving off her panties, because it was a hot morning, even for July. She parked in front of unit eleven at exactly ten o'clock.
The man who answered her timid knock was handsome. She thought of Tony Curtis. A tiny flutter began deeply within her, even though she could see only his face as he stood behind the door, holding it open for her.
"I'm Larry Sims. I suppose Hamilton told you something about me, as he told me a bit about you, Mrs. Holmes?"
"I hope he didn't say too much about me." She waited until his footsteps stopped in front of her before she looked up. "This is my first time to ... why ... why, you're naked!"
"Certainly I am. That's the best way to get acquainted. One can learn a lot more of another person when there's no clothes to disguise him."
She was not so shocked that she didn't notice the ropes of muscles moving beneath a smooth skin. But she was too surprised to resist when he took her wrist and led her to one of the twin beds. But she held back when he wanted her to sit closer beside him.
"I shouldn't be here, Mr. Sims."
"But you are, and you're going to do nothing many other wives haven't done for their husbands. A great many political deals are made in bedrooms. It's really the candidate's wife or daughter who's the ballot box. So relax and enjoy yourself."
"I'll try, Mr. Lawrence."
But she was tense and unresponsive while he removed all her clothing.
"Hmmm, no panties. There's nothing better than being prepared," he murmured.
"That's not why I left them off. It was just too hot to wear any."
His mouth delighted her nipples into becoming hard, throbbing nubbins, and his hands knew all the right places to caress. He quickly grew excited and tired of the preliminaries. He slid a hand up between her legs, all the way to her pussy.
"Right there is where I'll stick my ballot."
Two stiffened fingers stabbed into her lubricated vagina.
"Oh! Larry, don't."
She tried to inch away, because his abrupt move frightened her.
He grabbed her hand and guided it to his thick, pulsating cock.
"Play with me so it'll get harder."
"No."
She dug her heels into the bed and tried to push herself from under his heavy leg.
"Come off it, Mrs. Holmes. I have only an hour for fun time. Follow the leader, and we'll both go into orbit."
"I want to go home."
His hand crushed down on her cuntal mound, and it ground brutally hard on her trigger. "Mr. Sims, I...."
His mouth devoured hers, and his tongue dived into her mouth to twine around her own. No matter how hard she tried to break their contact, his lips stayed glued to hers. She was becoming more frightened by the second. She pounded his chest and tried to worm her legs from beneath his hairy thighs.
When he raised his mouth to suck in a lungful of air, she was panting.
"No! I won't! What sort of woman do you take me for?"
"Do you really want to know?"
He grabbed her knees and forced them up and far apart. He stared at her swollen-lipped pretty pusy. He glanced up over her belly and winked. Then he knelt on the bed below her and dived open mouthed to her honey pot.
"No, Larry, no! Not that way-y-y."
He slithered up over her belly and aimed the head of his peter at her cunt. His aim was accurate, and she moaned when she felt his cock head part her dewy inner lips. He paused, and his arms locked around her. His knees indented the bed, and she felt them press her hips. She held her breath as she waited.
Down plunged his hips, driving his cock head to the blind end of her vagina in one burning thrust.
Vicki screamed. Her legs threshed wildly in the air and fell heavily onto the bed to either side of Larry. Her heels sanded the counterpane, and her fists beat the top of his head. She tried to slide from beneath him, but she was firmly impaled.
He lay still and heavy on her until her vagina gripped and released his peter in answer to its throbbing. Slowly, he moved in and out of her.
"Ummm," she moaned.
He drilled her with increasing speed and power.
Her body rapidly came to appreciate his strong and steady style of fucking. He rotated his heavy body at the depth of each stroke. Their fur matted moistly together, and her long clitoris was delightfully bruised.
There came to Vicki the weird, yet exciting feeling that he punched her heart with each downward lunge. And on his backstrokes her body grew reluctant to have him leave it. Shocks, as of electricity, shook her insides.
His big testicles swung heavily against her hips, and she could not lie indifferent to this master fucker. With a groan of total surrender, she flung her arms around his neck, and her legs braceleted the small of his back.
"Ahhh," she sighed, as she whipped her cunt high around his cock and snapped it down.
Her belly writhed as if it were filled with snakes, until it suddenly stilled.
"Oh! Oh! Ohhhh...."
Something turned to liquid inside her. She trembled and whimpered, and then she sighed and lay still, weakened by a feeling of emptiness. But there was a tiny, remaining warmth yet alive within her.
Resuming her pumping motions, Vicki soon felt again the stilling of her sweat-slippery belly.
"Oh, Larry! Oh, Larry ... darling."
Her teeth bit at his neck and tears seeped from her closed eyes. She whispered her lover's name and settled limply onto the perspiration-soaked counterpane.
His body followed hers down. He remained buried within her, motionless, awaiting her revival so he could renew his attack.
Her eyelids fluttered and parted. She fancied she saw in Larry's strained features her ideal lover's face. She began to recover, writhing in ecstasy.
"S-screw me hard, Daddy," she groaned.
Then she gasped when she realized the enormity of what she had demanded and of whom. For an instant she was frozen, but Sims swung sideways and down and around in a vicious, confusing attack.
He pumped harder, spearing into her with the rough sureness of a man who knew how to drive a woman out of her skull. Faster he socked the meat to her; tighter and tighter her cunt gripped him.
She went wild. Her moans were eerie sounds. Her teeth nipped his neck and shoulder.
His toenails clawed the bed as he struggled to turn her inside out-until he groaned and stiffened, and she felt him grow and throb.
Victoria's hands clawed at his hips, for she was about to come again.
"Gimme all of it!" she demanded, in hoarse and croaking tones.
She felt the fire of his spurts, the drowning feeling of his superabundance. Her voice rose, babbling meaningless phrases as her belly spasmed and her head tossed back and forth.
"Ahhh, jeez, Larry, Larry!"
Thoroughly, oh, so thoroughly was she being fucked that she was unaware when it ended. As he eased himself out of her, much of them trickled down the crack of her ass.
He rolled tiredly off her, grinning and gasping for breath.
She lay slack mouthed, veiled eyed and pale of face. Her breasts were swollen nearly to bursting. They glistened with his sweat, rising and falling less and less as her passion cooled.
"Are you all right, darling?" Lawrence frowned with concern. "Ohh, yes! Am I ever all right!" Her eyes glittered with happiness, and yet there was a faint glow of lust still within her. "How was I, Mr. Sims?"
"Great. Just great. The most."
"That one was for Verne."
"Yes."
She rolled to Larry and put her arms around his neck.
"How about a screw just for myself.
CHAPTER THREE
On her way home, an impulse to visit her mother overcame Victoria.
"Oh, it's you," Alma said, when she saw her daughter standing in the hall. "I'm entertaining one of my women's clubs, but I guess you can join us."
Victoria could not have said why she was attracted to Hariett Simpson, except that the curvaceous brunette kept smiling at her.
Other than for Hariett's friendliness, Victoria felt like an intruder in her mother's home.
If Hariett had not invited her and Verne to a party Saturday evening, she would not have stayed so long in Alma's apartment.
At the same time Victoria was visiting, Verne was the guest of a female politician.
"Hell, I know my mug is ugly as sin. It won't turn on any man but a kook. That's why I have to practically rape any guy I can trap," Olive Castleberry said to Verne, as she flung her heavy arms about him.
She crowded against him on the couch in her apartment.
"Get some life into you, honey. Georgie Hamilton told me you're a real cocksman. He must've been putting me on."
She grasped Verne's chin in a meaty hand and held his face while she plunged her mouth onto his.
He stifled a groan and forced his arms around her chunky shoulders.
A hand fumbled with the zipper of his pants, and he shuddered when it wormed inside his shorts and seized his limp cock between demanding fingers.
She guided his hand to a knee that felt like a bowling ball. She withdrew his pride and joy from his pants and tried to pry out his balls also.
Verne slid lower on the couch. Then the hand fumbled with his belt buckle. He gasped:
"Your husband, Olive, mightn't he come home?"
"He's busy down town in his office. Relax and let me show you a good time."
She moved his hand higher on her fat leg. She slid his pants down as far as she could, then said:
"Raise up a little so's I can take 'em all the way off."
Verne raised his hips from the seat cushion, and she stripped his pants and shorts all the way off his legs.
"Oh, my, but you're well hung. Now let's see how hard it can get."
She palmed his testicles and squeezed them.
"No, don't, Olive."
"Get with it, lover. I'm getting hotter'n hell."
Verne moaned and closed his eyes. He tried to imagine Olive as a sexy young chick.
His hand moved dutifully up her leg until it encountered a pair of laceedged panties.
She raised her hips, and he flipped up her skirt.
Olive herself peeled her panties from her thick body and legs. The aroma that floated up from her pussy was heady as that of a young girl.
As long as he could keep his eyes closed, Verne thought he could endure this ordeal for the sixteen hundred votes Olive controlled.
Her big, pneumatic breasts flopped over his arm as he reached for the ends of her bra. He seized a nipple as thick as his thumb and viciously pinched it.
She mewed:
"Honey-y, that sends me! Pinch the other one too. Stick two fingers into my cunt and get me really hot, Verne honey."
He was surprised by the tightness of her vagina. He felt his peter growing stiff and alert.
"Ohhhh, it's getting hard!" she giggled.
She wiggled until she had eased a leg over his and bore him onto his back.
"I like it best when I'm on top," Olive murmured.
She writhed with a lively eagerness as she squeezed his cock head into her pussy.
When her bulk came down, his staff bent, and he yelled in pain.
"You hold it stiff, lover, while I hold myself open."
"Let's call it quits, Olive. It just won't go in."
"Don't you want to screw me?"
"You know I do."
"Then hold it steady."
He closed his fist around his cock, feeling the heat and the moistness of her twat sliding over the head of it.
She writhed. She forked her legs wider apart, across his, and let all of her weight force her tightness down around him.
He cried out again. It felt as if he had been forced through the small end of a funnel.
"Take it out, Olive, it hurts!"
"It won't hurt long. Cripes, but that feels good. Hold still and let me do the work."
Verne moaned because her muscular control was perfect.
Waves of constriction started at the base of his cock and rippled up to the throbbing head.
"Oh, Olive!"
He risked a peek at her face.
"My husband said a woman plain as me has to have something going for her. So I got a girl friend to teach me the Oriental Grip. How does that grab you, lover?"
She didn't move, not that he could see, but her internals were wildly active.
"Ohhhh, Olive."
He closed his eyes again and thought of Jean, his luscious office wife. He arched up, shoving deeply into Olive.
"Oh, yeah, baby. Now you're fuckin' on the front burner."
She was beginning to pant.
She bent forward and laid her body along his, supporting most of her weight on her elbows.
Because of the up-curve of his penis, he felt much better now, and so did Olive.
"You're something, Verne," she wheezed. The couch squeaked and groaned as her heavy hips pumped up and down. "Olive, I'm co...."
"So soon?"
She seized a wrist and slid his hand between them, then said:
"Play with me so I can come too."
Within a few short minutes, they gasped and cried out at the same time.
She plunged her mouth over his, and her tongue forced his back into his mouth.
His twiddling fingers grew hot and slippery on her trigger until they lunged at each other one final time.
"Baby, you really make me happy," Olive said.
She reeled away from the couch and held out her fat hand to help him up.
Verne had to admit it was an enjoyable way of securing votes, but once around that race track with Olive was enough.
"We'll have to get together again real soon," she said, as she started for the bathroom.
He watched her big hips dance toward the living room doorway.
"Sure we will," he said, with tongue in cheek.
Victoria came away from her mother's apartment feeling as if she had visited a stranger, so changed had Alma become.
The intensity with which Alma had argued when civic subjects were mentioned by one of the women at the meeting, led Victoria to believe her mother fancied herself as a do-gooder.
Alma could be a bitch on wheels when she was hooked on a particular subject.
Vicki shuddered when she imagined her mother crusading for whatever cause took her fancy; she liked her less as a crusader than as the man-hopping widow Alma had become.
So Victoria was glad to return home and dream of Hariett Simpson's coming party on Saturday night.
While she dressed for the party, Victoria smiled at the mirrored reflection of the gleam in Verne's eyes as he admired her shapely legs, her slightly rounded belly with its deep navel depression and the bottom fringe of soft, golden hair.
"I'll bet a dollar to the hole in a doughnut you'll be the sexiest looking woman at the Simpson's party," he said, as he reached around her waist and poked a finger into her navel.
"And you'll be jealous as hell, I suppose."
"Not me. I've begun to feel flattered whenever a man finds you attractive."
"That's a new one-you not being jealous."
"I'm a changed man."
He was thinking of Olive Castleberry.
"Take your hand away and let me finish dressing. There'll be plenty of time for screwing after we get home. Maybe we'll both want it more."
When they arrived at the Simpson house, the curved driveway was already full of cars.
"Darling-g-g," Hariett trilled, when she opened the front door.
She threw her arms around Victoria, kissed her full on the lips, and hard.
Surprised into silence, Vicki watched Verne being led away by a man she had never seen.
She moved to loosen the arm that pressed her sideways to Hariett, but her hostess's fingers bit into her side and drew them closer together.
"Darling, I'm so glad you could come tonight ... I hope."
Hariett giggled, and she wavered with her first step.
Victoria suspected she was more than a little drunk.
"Before we go out to the bar beside the swimming pool, where the fun people are, we'll stop in the recreation room and have a joint."
"A joint?"
"Sure. A stick of pot is just what you need to help you get with it. You're way behind the others."
Victoria was impressed by how slowly Hariett walked, stepping high as if there were stones on the floor to be avoided.
"You sit there and relax while I fire one up for you, dear."
Hariett gently shoved Vicki onto a large hassock, and then she went to take a lumpy cigarette from a leather-covered box.
The homemade cigarette had a strange, sweet smell, like newly mown hay.
"Here, darling. You cup your hands over the end of the joint and inhale the smoke through your nose. Hold it in a while before you exhale."
Vicki coughed and choked the first two or three times she followed Hariett's instructions. The fourth try was a winner. The smoke scorched her lungs, but she held it in for as long as she could hold her breath. She inhaled again.
A lightheadedness came to her, and everything she saw wavered for a moment. A feeling of lassitude softened her movements.
Each second seemed like a minute, a minute was an hour. All the misgivings she'd had melted away.
She saw beauty where there was none. She floated just above the hassock and the floor, when she stood up to go with Hariett to the bar near the swimming pool.
People were scattered along the wide concrete apron around the pool, and Victoria was pleased to note that her sight had remained clear.
After brief introductions, Hariett took Victoria's hand and led her to the portable bar.
"What're you drinking tonight, darling?"
"Let's make it dealer's choice."
She hadn't meant her smile to be so warm.
"I like B and B best with pot smoking-that's brandy and benedictine."
Hariett mixed the drinks with a slow, skillful grace.
After a few minutes, Victoria said:
"I wonder where Verne went?"
Hariett's hungry stare was as disturbing as that of a man on the make.
"He's probably talking politics with John my husband. You'd think he was the ward heeler instead of it being me."
Hariett's large breasts fascinated Victoria when they bounced on the bar top as she mixed drinks for her guests.
A glow began in Victoria's belly, and a quiver came to her clitoris. She had never been so affected by a woman. She strolled to the edge of the pool.
Threshing in the water were a nude man and woman, their bodies shimmering weirdly in the glow from colored lights that were hidden in the walls of the pool.
She saw the wavering, blonde, pubic bush of the female and the long, snaky cock of the male. God, what a prick, she thought. Her vagina spasmed when she fancied that long dong plunging into her.
Hariett had come to stand beside her.
"Why, there's Archie! He's always trying to stick it into Lola."
Her arm encircled Vicki's waist, and the palm of her hand rested low on Victoria's belly.
"Who is Archie?"
"He's my kid brother, and Lola's my husband's secretary. Hasn't she a gorgeous shape?"
Hariett leaned forward. Vicki braced herself so as not to be tumbled into the pool.
Victoria moved as if to free herself from Hariett's embrace, but then she felt the fingers spread low, to the bottom of her body.
Archie and Lola had sunk to the bottom of the pool, and-they were tightly pressed together in a hug and kiss. They shot up to the surface. Archie turned to face his sister and her guest.
A warmth spread through Victoria, centering behind the place where Hariett's hand clutched in a spasm of excitement. She turned her face away from the laughing, square-faced man who reached from the water and playfully snatched at her ankle.
"You're neglecting Lola," Hariett said to her brother. "There'll be time enough to meet Vicki later." She turned to Victoria and said, "Come on, I'll show you the garden."
Still flying low from the marijuana smoke, they floated along the moonlighted paths of the Simpson garden, side by side.
Hariett's arm around her drew Vicki closer, until their thighs were pressed together, moving as one with their slow steps.
They rounded a corner of the high boxwood hedge and came to a grassy alcove where a stone bench sat, as if waiting for soft buttocks to warm it. Hariett steered them to the bench. Victoria sensed what was about to happen.
The cut of her dress offered little protection from Hariett's fingers as they slid down over the perfect orbs of her breasts.
She gasped and reached for the wrist of that intruding hand. But Hariett leaned against her, and she had to clutch the back edge of the marble bench. She was entirely convenient to whatever her hostess wished to do.
"Don't," she murmured.
Her protest was silenced by the firmly pressed mouth and deeply driven tongue of the brunette. Her thoughts became confused. Her head seemed to whirl, and through her dizziness she felt probing fingers inside her dampening pussy.
She grunted into the mouth of her seductress, and she could not stay the movement of her lower body as it slipped forward to deepen the penetration of the fingers.
Somehow Hariett maneuvered them beyond the bench, onto the grass at the edge of the bushes. She had conquered Vicki's protests, and the blonde woman found herself parting her legs and raising them easily as her panties were stripped off.
She cooed as a delighted pigeon when the muscid, insistent pussy of her hostess glued itself to her own. And when Hariett became as a male fucking his woman, Victoria's hips shot up from the dewy grass to grind the two women together, clitoris to clitoris. She flung back her head and closed her eyes.
Tighter and tighter grew the wires of her nerves, and she whimpered softly when she felt her climax building. Her clawing fingers became entangled in the grass and pulled up tufts of it as her insides quaked and spasmed. She moaned and thrust her mouth against the drooling lips of the woman whose pussy ground so hard on her own.
A sudden shaft as of fire shot through, and she stiffened for a moment, just before she came-an awful, wracking of twanging nerves, a quaking of tensed muscles, a fluttering of her womb, and a rigidity of her whole body sent her spinning into the golden confusion of climax.
Lying limply under the weight of Hariett's still-pulsating body, Victoria's spinning head slowed and seemed to stop in mid-spin. Her legs and buttocks were damp and sticky. She had never had such a full flow of sexual fluid, and so she knew that Hariett too had come.
Spread-eagled, Vicki felt a deep mortification that she had been thoroughly fucked by another woman.
She opened her mouth to voice her anger, but sounds of soft footsteps crunching the gravel of the footpath stopped her. She held her breath when the man and woman stopped at the long, marble bench.
She almost cried aloud when she recognized her mother's voice, as it said:
"Now, stop that, John! What sort of woman do you take me for?"
"Why should you give a damn, Alma? I hear you fuck like crazy."
Frozen by the sudden appearance of her husband and Alma, Hariett lay heavily on Victoria, and Vicki tried to keep her harsh gaspings for breath as quiet as possible.
"John!" Alma gasped. "What's the matter with you?"
"No one is apt to come here, honey."
There came to the hearing of Hariett and Victoria the susurranting sounds of people scrootching into coital position.
"John! Stop that! I'm not ... not ready yet. Hurry and get me ready."
Gasps and groans coming from Alma once more aroused Hariett's lust. She whispered into Vicki's reddened ear:
"Raise your legs over my back."
"No. Don't diddle me again," Vicki whispered.
"I have to."
She ground her pussy once more to Victoria's.
The sounds coming from above the bench stirred Victoria too. The sight of her mother's shapely leg jerking erratically over the side of the bench, almost touching her ear, the foot that stamped the grass, and the groans that turned into moans and then into whimpers, fired Victoria's passions to full heat. She threw her legs over Hariett's grinding hips and rotated her wide-open vulva to the equally opened one of Hariett.
When the sensations within her grew stronger and a dizziness clouded Victoria's mind, she fastened her mouth onto the side of Hariett's throat to keep from crying out.
She didn't hear her mother's soft, gasping whinny of completion, nor was she aware of the lovers leaving the bench.
Some time later, Hariett stood and shook down her skirt, pulled Victoria to her feet, adjusted the hang of her dress, and kissed her softly on the forehead. She looped an arm loosely around Victoria's waist.
"We have to get to the party, darling. After all, I am the hostess."
Victoria nodded and took the first, faltering step along the path.
She left her panties damply crumpled beneath the bushes behind the bench.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alma was alone on the patio beside the swimming pool, helping herself to a drink at the bar. She didn't see Hariett and Victoria approaching until she turned around.
"What're you doing here, Vicki?"
"I invited her," Hariett said.
"How nice to see my darling daughter again."
Alma turned away from the two women and went into the house.
"Come on," Hariett said, "you haven't met all my guests."
Less than an hour later Victoria found herself wandering alone through the large house. She was light headed yet from the pot smoking, and a silly grin gave her a sexy, little-girl look.
The aftermath of Hariett's screwing was a longing to have her pussy filled by a large, stiff cock, and that was what she was looking for.
"Verne," she said, to the empty corridor she was wandering through, "where are you, honey?"
There was a partly open bedroom door to her left. She pushed the door all the way open and stepped into the room.
On the bed, on his back, lay a nude Verne. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling. His arms were bent upward on the bed. His fingers clutched at the thinning hair on his head. His hairy belly was heaving above the pillow under his buttocks because of the woman who crouched between his out-spread legs.
The woman's arms were under and around his thighs, her fingers biting into his flesh as her blonde head bobbed up and down while she sucked his cock.
When she pulled her mouth up to the head of his peter, her face was revealed above his pubic hair.
Victoria's mouth dropped open. The woman sucking Verne was Alma!
Vicki didn't hear the footsteps as they came up to her from the hallway. She was about to scream from what she saw, and anger surged up in her until she tasted bile.
She took a silent step toward the lovers, her fingers bent into long-nailed claws, when a hard hand was clamped over her mouth and 'an arm whipped around her waist. She was swung clear of the floor.
She struggled wildly while she was dragged out of the bedroom, and she caught a glimpse of the man who held her. He was Archie, the muscle man of the swimming pool, Hariett's brother.
She broke free of his grasp, but, instead of running away, Victoria stood before him scowling.
"Why didn't you let me scratch her eyes out-that bitch who's sucking off my husband?"
"Never interrupt a man while he's getting his charge. That babe looked like she knows how to suck."
"Hmf! She's no better than I am-when I want to."
"Do you want to now?"
"What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Where's an empty bedroom, sonny?"
"Hey! That guy must really have it to turn you on like this."
"Forget him. Show me if you can take it."
She reached out, yanked down his swimming trunks, palmed his heavy balls and grasped his long, pulsating cock.
He stood still, thrusting his peter back and forth.
"Well, come on, Archie, or are you chicken?"
She was whisked into an empty bedroom and tossed onto the bed. Then she was helping him strip off her dress.
Nude, except for stockings, garter belt, and shoes, she toed off the shoes as he straddled her on the bed, facing toward her feet.
His knees were to either side of her head, and she felt the warmth of his cock head as it neared her parting lips. The aroma of his masculinity caused her nose to twitch as she reached up for his hips.
Sucking him slowly into her throat, she felt him bend and kiss her pussy.
He saw the tiny tip of her fleshy trigger pointing up at him through the folds of flesh. He swiped his tongue over it and was pleased when her body rose from the bed. He stabbed his tongue between her dew-covered inner lips.
"Ugh!" she grunted, clasping his hips harder, pulling his cock more deeply into her throat.
Her legs raised and came together over the back of his head, locking his mouth to her honey pot.
She pulled her mouth from around his peter and sucked in a lungful of air.
"Make me come like crazy," she panted.
Then she returned to sucking him off.
When his plunging pecker speeded its jabs down her throat, she knew he was about to come. So she sucked harder and fingered his balls.
Even from his first spurt, she squeezed him hard for all the tangy fluid he might give her.
He slipped clutching hands beneath her rump and clawed the soft globes of flesh.
Her body quaked for a moment, until she sprang up around his fornicating tongue. She came with incredible speed.
"Ugh-h," she groaned, for her throat was being filled.
She gulped and swallowed rapidly to keep from being drowned.
Her up-thrusting cunt mashed his nose and chin. Her cream was to him the succulent sauce for the gander that drove him wild. He almost suffocated within the clasp of her legs, until they trembled and fell away from crushing his ears.
Victoria lay spread-eagled as she rested.
Archie turned end for end, took her into his arms and kissed her.
She tasted what remained of herself on his lips. For an instant she tried to draw her mouth from his, but his hand at the back of her head pressed their faces together. Her tongue searched in his mouth for more of herself, and she hummed her pleasure until he drew back and grinned triumphantly down at her.
"You're good at lapping me, Archie. I've never been tongue fucked into coming so quickly."
"Nor have I. We're good for each other, doll. Let's go the route again."
His hand flexed her breast and its swollen nipple. He rubbed his limp cock in the redolent wetness of her pussy.
"Fuck me this time, huh? I need a peter. Really sock your cock in and break it off, Archie."
Ignoring how many times she and Hamilton had screwed, she said: .
"That cheating husband of mine isn't going to have all the fun in this family. Fuck me until I pass out."
She played with him until his cock was firm again, and he swung himself between her widespread legs.
"Sock it to me!"
And when he did, she grunted loudly. His pubic arch slammed her right at the place where her happy button stuck its cute, cotton-picking head between the lips of her vulva. She cried out, convulsed, shuddered and came.
"Oh! Oh! I ... I came!"
The first ramming thrust had sent her, but that was only an appetizer. She gripped him tightly in a bear hug of arms and legs.
"Uh-h-h. Uh-h-h," she moaned, as he pounded his meat into her.
On his backstroke, the juicy sounds of fucking excited her even more. She was wild to have as much of his cock as she could get.
His arm around her waist controlled her wild responses so expertly that she came one time after another. She writhed in his grasp and ground herself to him.
But half conscious from the thorough screwing she was getting and the pot she had smoked, she yet noticed a new, erratic series of plunges and withdrawals. She opened her eyes when Archie yelled.
Over his perspiring shoulder, Victoria saw her husband's angry face. As through a fog, she saw Verne's arm rising and falling as he beat Archie's back.
"Get off my wife, damn you!" she heard Verne growl.
She didn't know when Verne's hand reached between Archie's legs and clutched his big, well-filled balls. But she felt the result as Archie's sperm javelined into her vagina and splashed around the neck of her womb.
"Ah-h-h," she gasped.
She spasmed a final time, her body suctioning up the seed of the man writhing in pain on her belly.
A sudden coolness replaced her lover's heat. A fist slammed her distended belly. She screamed as if her soul had been driven to hell.
"You ... you damned whore!" Verne cried, as he struck her again.
Her mother's voice, coming from beyond Verne, drove all fog from Victoria's mind.
"Sock her again, Verne!" Alma shrieked.
But Vicki was surprised when he turned and swore at Alma.
"You keep the hell out of this, Alma. It's none of your damned business. Get the hell out of here!"
Alma turned to leave.
"After all the times we've screwed, you turn against me. I'll fix your little red wagon, Verne Holmes!"
Verne and Vicki argued all the way home.
"Why, damn you, Verne! I saw Mother sucking you off. You were busy just when I needed a cock. So what else could I do but let Archie screw me? Hell, I'm only human."
"It didn't look to me like that was the first time he'd laid you. How many other times had he fucked you?"
"None."
"You sure were with it, socking your twat up to him like you couldn't get enough of that wonderful stuff. You've been a pretty dead piece of ass for the last year or so. That's how I know you've been putting out for other guys."
"I have not!"
"Vicki, you're a damned liar. I haven't been married to you for sixteen years not to know that as hot a woman as you are, and when you've become an iceberg in bed, you're getting cock from some other guy."
The argument had cooled down by the time they'd undressed for bed. When he dropped his pants and shorts, she saw his pecker waggling with a hard-on, pointing right at her still-hungry cunt.
"Verne honey?" She flung her dress carelessly over the back of a chair.
"What do you want?"
"You, darling."
She reached out and grabbed his cock. She moved her hand up and down the curved length of it.
"By golly, after the thorough screwing you got from that damned Archie, if you're still hotter'n hell, I can put out your fire, baby. Hop into bed and I'll show you."
She squealed, jumped onto her bed, adjusted her position, and held out her arms.
He paused to gaze down at her fur-covered cunt as she toed off her needle-heeled shoes and reached for the clips of her garter belt.
"No. Leave your stockings on. You look sexy as hell with them on."
He leaped onto the bed, between her legs, and lowered for the plunge.
"Be rough with me, honey. I shouldn't have let Archie fuck me. Punish me hard, Verne."
"Helen might hear you holler if I go all out."
"Hell with her. I need your cock now!"
He let Vicki steer his up-bent pecker into her swollen pussy. She stared up at him as he slid smoothly all the way into her. When his balls slapped her ass, her face took on the strained look of expectancy.
"Make this a good one," she breathed.
His arms vised her soft, hot body as he flailed himself into her with a viciousness he had never used before. At each plunge, her clitoris was mashed and roughly sanded by his stiff, pubic hairs. She grunted at each collision, and the groaning bed excited her still further. For an instant she wondered if Helen was listening in the next bedroom, as she herself, at Helen's age, had listened to Verne fucking her own mother.
From the force of his anger and passion, Verne began to talk.
"Take on another man, will you? Take that!" He slammed her hard. "And this." He twisted in a wicked, screwing motion.
"Oh!" she cried. Pleasure raised her voice to a squeak. "That's it! Give ... me ... hell, honey. Oh!"
Harder and faster he drove into her, and soon she squealed.
"Bah!" she barked as she came.
Again and again, he prodded her into a barking, belly wrenching climax. He accused her of taking on each man he could think of. Until he mentioned Hamilton, Victoria did not answer.
"You like George to fuck you, don't you?" he panted. "No."
"Why do you take on that old man?"
"I d-don't ... oh!"
"You're a liar!"
"I'm not."
She tightened her arms and legs around him.
"Is he better at hosing you than I am?"
"Shut up!" Her voice was shrill.
She squirmed beneath him, increasing his pleasure, and she became deaf to his accusations.
"Oh!" she gasped, and thought, here I go again. "Ohhhh, Verne! Verne!"
In the bedroom next door, Helen had been awakened by the voices of her mother and the man she knew as her father. The unmistakable sounds of a bed groaning mingled with her mother's high, tight-voiced exclamations told Helen they were screwing like mad in there. And she, as had her mother at her age, wondered how it would feel to be fucked by a full-grown man.
Her hand moved up and down over her tense belly, and her fingers went unerringly to her happy button.
She grunted, "Daddy," as she rolled onto the arm that lay along the front of her body. And then she tried to imagine how Vicki felt as Verne speared her.
Vicki was feeling wonderful. Her churning hips were wrinkling the undersheet. A large, damp spot beneath her and Verne grew larger.
"That's it," she muttered. "There! Yes! Right there. Ahhhh."
She had not tried to count the times she had come, but she knew a record had already been set, and she was still peaking every few seconds.
She flung her head far back. Her slitted eyelids allowed her to watch her husband's grimacing face as through a lace-curtained window.
"Umfff," he grunted, then drove into her and held her tightly.
His pulsating pecker shot fiery darts of cum into her vagina.
Her mouth fell open. Her belly spasmed, and she trembled one last time. Just before she passed out, Vicki thought, Nobody can screw me as good as Verne, not even George.
Victoria slept late the next morning. Both Verne and Helen had gone, one to his office, the other to her summer high school class. She stretched her arms high and sighed from the calm contentment she felt.
Scenes from the day and the night before came to her mind. Why did she put out to anyone besides her husband? He really sent her farther into orbit than any of the others. The excuse of helping further his political career seemed thin this morning. No matter how many other women had gone the same route for their politician husbands, there still was no excuse for Vicki to be a fleshy sacrifice-unless....
The fact hit Victoria like a fist: She liked screwing other men! It was time to face the fact that women as well as men had a large bump of curiosity in their sexual makeup. But Vicki resolved to limit her yearnings to her husband. Too many complications could arise from being a bedroom pawn to Verne's career.
And that episode with Hariett in the bushes yesterday ... She blushed and laughed away the memory of having been a weak, pot-smoking, half-drunken woman.
Early in the afternoon Helen returned from her summer class.
"Hello, Mom," she said, as she crossed the living room to the stairs.
"Where're you going, Helen?" Vicki looked up from the magazine she was reading.
"I ... I have some homework to do. I'm going up to my room."
She raced up the stairs, leaving her mother wondering at her coolness.
Could Helen have heard her and Verne hosing last night? She recalled her own feelings when she had listened to Verne sticking it to Alma. Helen must consider her as a rival for Verne's affections.
"Damn it!" Victoria muttered. Was her life coming apart at the seams already?
She started for the stairs, but the front door chime sounded. She went to answer it.
Archie stood grinning on the front stoop. Before Vicki could close the door, he had stepped into her living room.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I'll give you one guess, sweetheart."
"No!"
"Why the deep freeze today? You were hot to trot yesterday."
"Please, Archie. That was yesterday. I've had time to think since then."
"Women aren't supposed to think, they're just supposed to take off their clothes."
He advanced to her. Before she could evade him, his arms were around her. He kissed her hard, and one hand pawed her pussy through her dress, slip, and panties. She tore her mouth from his and turned aside. His hand lost its grip, and he frowned.
Vicki slapped him, just when he would've kissed her again. He grabbed her wrists and pressed his body to hers. At the pit of her belly, she felt his erection stabbing her.
"No, Archie."
She flung her face aside, lost her foothold on the carpet, and felt him bearing her backward to the couch.
"Stop it! My daughter's upstairs."
"So what? It's not her I'm interested in."
He backed her, stiff legged, until the backs of her knees pressed the edge of the couch.
"Archie, no!"
He flung her onto her back, her dress and slip flying high, revealing her tight, white panties. He yanked down the tab of his zipper and knelt between her legs.
"Ohhhh, no! No!" she moaned, knowing she couldn't stop his attack and that soon she would be wild for his shafting.
"Oh, excuse me. I have to get a drink of water," Helen said, as she passed through the living room.
"Damn it!" Archie swore. His cock began to shrink at once.
To hell with the kid, he thought. He whisked off Vicki's panties. But before he could climb aboard the opened woman, Helen returned from the kitchen. She pointed at his waggling pecker and giggled.
"That's a cute one," she tittered. Then she went slowly up the stairs.
"Damn that kid!" All desire abruptly left Archie.
He didn't protest when Victoria sprang erect.
She took his elbow and steered him to the front door.
"And don't come back, Archie."
She opened the door and shoved him out.
Going to the stairs, she called up them: "Thanks, Helen."
There was no answer. She wondered if Helen would tell Verne of Archie's visit.
Later in the afternoon she heard the plop of the evening newspaper as the newsboy tossed it onto the lawn. She retrieved the paper and went into the house.
CHAPTER FIVE
The boldface type of a sub-headline caught Victoria's attention:
CLUBWOMAN TO BE CANDIDATE
The text of the bylined reportage said:
Mrs. Alma Green, prominent charity worker, will run for the seat on city council to be vacated by Edward Henderson's retirement.
Vicki sank onto a chair. Her mother would run against Verne in the fall election! The red fog of anger blinded her.
It was a councilman-at-large post, so all the people in Mason who were qualified voters could vote for the candidate.
Victoria decided to work harder for Verne. Her mother must not have the opportunity to gloat over a victory that would be a victory over herself as well as Verne.
"Damn it!"
She reached for the telephone to call George Hamilton.
"But can't you pull some strings to keep the old bitch from filing with the election board, George?"
"Of course I can't. Anyone who pays the filing fee and is a legal resident of this city can run for the office. I'm no magician. I'm not even on the election board."
"You must know someone who is. There has to be a way of stopping Alma."
"I know several members of the election board. The chairman of the board and I are good friends. I'll see what I can do. Elmer Frye is a tough man to deal with, so I can't offer much hope."
"Let me talk to him. Maybe I can convince him to keep my mother off the ballot."
"I'll see if I can set up an appointment for you."
When Verne came home, Victoria knew from his slamming of the front door that he had seen the evening paper.
"What do you make of that old bag trying to run against you, Verne?"
"Damn her! I'll show her how rough politics can be. I'm out to win."
"Do you want me to help?"
"How could you help?"
"Oh, I've some crazy ideas."
"Such as?"
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."
"If you're planning another Archie act, my answer is no!"
"Every vote helps. What's the difference how I get them? It'll be no skin off your ass."
"I can guess what you're planning, and my answer is still no."
Vicki smiled as she turned away from Verne to answer the telephone.
Damn it, Verne thought, as he but half listened to her side of the conversation. Now I'll have to screw fat Olive Castleberry again. He remembered that she was good for at least sixteen hundred votes.
Victoria pressed the telephone to her ear. She had not expected such promptness.
"Can you talk?" George asked.
"No."
"So I'm a girl friend calling about a club meeting or something. I've set up a meeting between you and Frye for tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, here in my office."
"Yes, Edith. A special meeting in the morning?" Verne heard her say. "I'll be there."
At five minutes before ten the next morning, Hamilton crossed his office to meet Victoria.
"Here she is," he whispered, over his shoulder to the man sitting on the couch.
He pulled Vicki to him as he pushed the door shut behind her. One of his knees slipped between her legs and joggled her pussy. She felt herself go damp and soft, and she opened her mouth to protest because of the stranger in the room, but her mouth was filled by George's tongue.
In her half-hearted struggle, her left breast was thrust into George's clutching hand. She moaned, closed her eyes, and returned his kiss. A tickle of beginning lust surged through her. She forgot the grinning man on the couch.
She groaned into George's mouth when she felt his cock growing and prodding her lower belly. Her body took on the swaying motions of fucking, and with each swift contact her twat swelled a little more. Her panties grew damp from the moisture of her body's anticipation.
When George's hand stroked firmly down her back and his fingers plucked up her dress, it was a moment before Vicki realized he was displaying the soft, pink globes of her hips to his guest.
Suddenly she was aware of three hands kneading and handling her ass and lowering her panties down to her knees. She swiveled her head to see the man whose fingers were nearing her anus. She had yet to see Elmer Frye, and when his fingers tickled her asshole, she cried out and her pussy pressed hard against Hamilton's stiffened cock.
Teeth bit into her right hip. She bellowed in pain, leaped high, and flung her legs around George.
"Quiet! My secretary'll come busting in here."
The teeth were removed. She heard a throaty chuckle.
"Ummm, nice," a heavy voice said.
She lowered her feet to the floor and let George lead her to the couch.
Her smile was cool to Frye when they were introduced. Surely so young a man couldn't yet have enough political influence to help Verne's campaign in any way. Elmer could not be more than thirty years old, Vicki thought. Ever since she had been raped in that frat house basement in her freshman year at college, Vicki feared and detested younger men. Now she faced one whom she was certain wanted to fuck her. She tried to avoid looking at Elmer Frye.
"Let's taste those pretty lips, honey," he said, as he turned her face up to his.
She pressed her hands against his chest and tried to turn her face away.
Hamilton reached around her, grasped her arms, and drew them around behind her.
"Go ahead and kiss her, Elmer. She likes to be kissed and felt up."
"But I don't know you. I don't...."
Her mouth was filled by Frye's flailing tongue. She groaned and tried to draw back, but one of Hamilton's big hands pressed the back of her head, and there was no way for her to avoid Frye's exciting kiss.
Hamilton whispered in her ear, too low for Frye to hear:
"You'd better come across for Elmer. If you anger him, Verne's political career's dead."
Elmer kissed the side of her neck, where it joined her shoulder. She gasped and shuddered. His fingers plucked hers which were locked around her closely pressed knees. But not until he tickled the backs of her knees did they and her fingers fly apart. Up her legs zoomed his hand.
She tried to fling herself away from Frye, but George held her steadily. It was George's mouth that now kissed her. Elmer nibbled at her throat, and his hand eased up the hot softness of her leg toward her cunt.
Her tongue thrust into George's mouth, and her arms went around his neck. If she had to let Elmer screw her, George was the man to get her hot quicker.
She saw him wink at Elmer, just before he opened the top of her dress. His hand slid in to cradle her swelling breast. For a moment she forgot Frye.
A hand streaked the last few inches up her legs, fingertips prodding the swelling lips of her cunt. She jumped and automatically drove herself at his fingers.
Elmer's mouth replaced Hamilton's on hers. He gripped her arms, holding her on the couch, just when she would have sprung up.
From beyond Frye, she heard Hamilton say:
"I have to meet a client in the conference room. You stay here and get acquainted with Elmer, Vicki."
She struggled free of Elmer's mouth.
"I can't go through with this, Mr. Frye. It's too impersonal. A woman has to be emotionally aroused in order to be a good screw. Because you're not my type, I'm afraid you'd be disappointed in me."
"Relax, Vicki. Let me lead the way. You may be surprised."
She trembled and tried to relax as he kissed her again. Anything to help Verne.
She forced her legs apart and let his fingers play with her now-eager pussy. She kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to see the glitter of lust in his eyes.
He swung her legs up onto the couch, and he stretched her along the seat cushions.
She tried to imagine it was George who hoisted her dress above her navel. Her pantiless vulva swelled and awaited the prod of a cock. She heard Elmer gasp, and she let him push up to her twat. When she heard the racking sound of a descending zipper, she couldn't help peeking.
A long, slender penis with a big, round head bobbled in the redolent air just above her knee. Her hand rose of its own accord to grip and guide" the rod of man-flesh, but when she saw his leer of triumph, her arm fell. Her fingers clenched into a fist of protest. She closed her eyes and shuddered.
"No! Don't fuck me, Mr. Frye." But she adjusted her position and awaited the thrust that would rivet her to Elmer.
Instead, her cunt was hot and searing as he kissed the inside of her knee. She writhed when his mouth slid up until his lips nipped teasingly at the hedge of fur that screened her pussy. She flounced madly, trying a last-minute avoidance of that which her body demanded.
The flow of her lubrication increased. "Ahhh," Elmer murmured. "You're ready, doll."
Victoria mewed in surrender.
"Hurry up and get it over with."
Frye's arms went around her still-clothed body. There was no time now for undressing. He jabbed his cock at her with an eager awkwardness, but it missed its goal and lit up her belly, bumping her clitoris. "Stick it in!"
She pushed a hand between them, guiding the huge-headed cock as she tensed to spring up around him.
But he was quicker than she. He forced his doorknob-sized pecker head into her.
"Wah!" she bawled.
Her legs sprang up and outward to ease the tightness of her clasping vagina.
He stopped pushing when the head of his cock was finally all the way within her. She was terribly stretched, and there was a thrilling sort of pain.
Her vaginal muscles spasmed, and, when they relaxed, she eased up around his slender-shafted fuck stick.
"Go on. Do it," she panted.
"So you finally want to be screwed?"
He withdrew from her hungry cunt.
"I ... Yesssss. Oh, yes!"
Her fingers opened his belt buckle-, and they trembled as they lowered his pants and shorts until his bared belly lay on hers. She wiggled to open herself for his second try, and her arms came to rest over his shoulders.
"Now, push hard, Elmer."
But he moved slowly this time, unfolding every wrinkle in her vagina. She gasped and quaked. She could only feel the big roundness of his pecker head. The shank of his cock was too slender to touch the sides of her love tube. But, oh, that head!
When he stopped pushing, she moaned, and her ankles went over the backs of his knees, and she levered herself up around his cock as hard as she could; then she rotated her body slowly, grinding her drooling cunt to the base of his belly.
"Ohhh, that's good. Soooo good," she murmured.
Her arms braceleted his neck, and her wide-open mouth frantically sought his.
"Pour it to me, lover man!"
Elmer drew back a few inches, and her legs rose up over his hips. She kicked his ass when she grew afraid he was about to pull out. But he swung down hard, and she yodeled her pleasure.
As he held himself all the way in, she felt a surge of heat, an inner fluttering, a sudden chill. She cried out into his mouth as she felt the thrill of orgasm starting. Her womanly organs danced and produced the rigors of her coming.
Elmer was nearly choked by her arms clasping his neck in time to the undulations of her inner body. It took but a few seconds for her coming to finish, and then she moved her body slowly in the ages old swingings of a perfect screw.
The wet, slapping sounds of their colliding bodies mingled with her grunts. Her eyelids half parted, to see nothing but a golden fog.
Faster and faster Elmer socked it to her. Higher and higher were the soft cries of her rapid comings.
"Jeez, but you're a good piece," he said.
She hugged him with arms and legs and hoped he could screw her forever. That big, big head of his cock spreading her vagina drum tightly, as it slid back and forth, sent her nearly out of her skull. She gasped and yipped each time she came. She was panting like an animal in heat. All too soon she felt him swell still more, sensed the break in his rhythm, and knew he was about to spout.
"Oh, not yet!" But his sperm shot into her like white hot arrows, forcing her nearly to climax. "Please, just ... a ... little more."
But he rapidly shrank. She groaned and writhed in torment, for she needed so to be finished off and the sharp edge taken off her passion. Her eyes fluttered open. Over Elmer's shoulder, she saw Hamilton sitting on the edge of his desk.
Elmer rested for a moment on her still-heaving belly. When he finally pulled out of her, it was as if he had uncorked a barrel of cum.
"Oh, hell," he growled.
"Here, ol' buddy." George tossed a handkerchief to Elmer. "How about having Victoria mount you next, so I can get at her from behind?"
"Sure. I didn't know you liked it that way."
"My motto is, if it's sex I want to try it."
They boosted Victoria aside, and Elmer stretched out along the couch.
"Wh-what?" she asked, when she felt herself being hoisted and lowered over a hairy belly.
"You won't need this for a while," George said, as he skinned her dress up over her head and off.
The smooth sweep of her bare back, her plump, pink hips excited him. His big arms went around her from behind to position her for his invasion.
She came to full awareness. She gasped and struggled, but she was pinned onto Elmer by George's bulky body.
"What?...."
Elmer's arms around her neck drew her face around to his, and she was thoroughly kissed.
From behind she felt George's cock prodding between her legs. It slipped easily through the slack wet opening of her cunt. She could only snort her appreciation, because her mouth was full of Elmer's tongue.
George went far enough into her to lubricate his dong. Then he spread her hips, centered himself on her asshole and pressed.
Elmer's arms clasped her, just when she would've leaped from the couch.
A sudden, sharp pain, and awful confusion were in her mind, and then she felt a delicious fullness, bringing a sympathetic itching to be filled in her vagina. She fumbled between her pussy and Elmer's limp cock, hoping to firm the penis into usefulness.
"When ... can ... you be ready?" shegasped at Elmer.
"I'm shot down. Use the head of it to rub yourself into coming."
Her hand was crowded away from the entrance to her cunt, by George's big hand. A long middle finger slipped into her. It was like being screwed by a grade-school boy. Despite her giggling, she gasped when the finger fluttered, and she felt herself building up to a blow off.
"George ... darling!" she panted. "Ohhh. Oh, I'm c-coming-g."
Her body quaked as her asshole gripped George's greasy pecker.
"Ahhhh," she breathed, tightening her rear portal around George's cock.
Even though she couldn't feel the product of his ejaculation, she knew he had arrived, because his arms pinned her sides with a mighty squeeze, and he held himself deeply inside her as he groaned.
"Sorry, honey," she heard Elmer murmur. Only then did she realize he was still limp.
A few minutes later, she was sitting between George and Elmer, fully dressed, when a light knock on the office door disturbed their conversation.
"Come in," George called, and in walked Verne.
His eyebrows were raised in an obvious question. Victoria shook her head, hoping she wasn't blushing.
"I was ... er ... uh ... hunting for my wife," Verne stammered, "but I see she's in good hands."
He looked puzzled when all three laughed. "I'm ready to go home. Are you with me, Vicki?"
It was not until after she had gotten home that Vicki recalled she had forgotten to ask Elmer if there was any way he could keep her mother off the November ballot.
She was on her way to the bathroom to douche and clean herself after the three-way session in Hamilton's office, when Verne came into the bedroom and seized her in his arms.
"Verne! What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm going to fuck you." He bore her backward to the bed, and he flipped her half-slip high on her stomach. "Where the hell are your panties?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but his mouth plunged onto hers, and his tongue whipped around in her mouth. His knee came between hers, prying her legs widely apart.
"I'm ... I'm not ready, honey."
"The hell you aren't." He felt her pussy. "You're ready as you'll ever be. Hold still, dammit!"
He socked his meat into her.
"Oh!" she gasped.
What else could she do but spread herself wide open for her husband?
The last sensible thought she had was a mental note to call Elmer Frye tomorrow morning and see if he could prevent Alma from registering as a candidate.
CHAPTER SIX
Just after noon the next day, Victoria sat at lunch in a remote booth with Elmer Frye. He wouldn't tell her over the telephone, when she had called him that morning, what, if anything, he could do to help Verne get elected. And so she had agreed to lunch with Elmer in this sedate downtown restaurant.
She felt his thigh pressing full length against hers as he crowded her to the wall at the far end of the banquette.
"I couldn't talk this morning, because I had company in my office, Vicki. There are only two ways in which I could personally help your husband to get elected: I can certify him as a qualified candidate. I can throw any influence I may have at the ward leaders and the precinct captains. But that's dangerous, because the opposition candidates could prosecute me for malfeasance of office, if they could prove whatever I did. Of course, I can also refuse to certify a candidate on numerous grounds."
Victoria laid a detaining hand on his that was stroking higher and higher on her thigh.
"It's not so much getting Verne elected that's important to me, it's keeping my mother off the ballot. Hamilton thought you might refuse to certify her."
He laughed softly, and because of his youthful face, the tingling that had begun in Vicki's pussy stopped. If only Elmer were a more mature-looking man.
"George was offering you an opportunity for us to meet, when he called you into his office yesterday. He owes me for several favors. He knew I'd seen you and wanted to screw you, so he introduced us. I'm sure glad he did. You're a wonderful fuck."
His hand streaked up her leg with the middle finger extended, and it twiddled her pussy through the tightly drawn cloth of her panties.
"Don't, Elmer," she hissed, as she tried to move aside.
"Why not? You liked me to play with you yesterday."
"Someone might see us."
"Not back here."
He leaned over and lowered his face to hers. The kiss was hard and demanding. A rattle of dishes, a discreet cough, caused her to open her eyes. Over Elmer's shoulder she saw their blue-jacketed waiter bringing their food. She frantically pushed Elmer's chest. He straightened up, winking at the waiter, as he wiped her lipstick from his mouth.
While they were finishing their dessert, he remarked:
"I can introduce you to the precinct captains. From there, it's up to you to convince them your husband is the man for the job."
His hand fell once more to her shapely knee, but she clasped her own hand on his and wouldn't let it slide up to her twat.
"Hamilton has already suggested the same course of action, but I don't like to think of taking on strange men, like a ... like a...."
"Look at it this way, honey: Since they are strangers, there'll be no emotional involvements. The wife of a politician must go all out to help him, because the competition these days is fierce and vicious. A man could hardly swing an election without offering some sort of goodies to the right people."
"It must be great to be a man, going around shaking hands, kissing babies, and having your wife do all the dirty work." She frowned. "Do many candidates offer their wives as free lays' to the men in power, Elmer?"
"Only a few of them do, and they're usually the ones with the sexiest looking wives. Of course, not all candidates know how their old ladies are helping out. Does Verne know how far you're willing to go with his campaign?"
"No. And I hope he never finds out."
"So do I. The other party might claim collusion and unethical conduct, and I'd have to nullify his registration."
He moved his hand upward along her leg. In grabbing for it, her hand fell onto his lap. She felt the bump of his extending cock. She gasped and snatched her hand back onto her lap.
"See, Vicki? I want to shag you again, darling."
"I ... I didn't mean to excite you, Mr. Frye."
"Just seeing you fires me up. I promise the next time we fuck I'll hold out until you're exhausted. I'm sorry I was too quick for you, but I'm that way the first time I lay a woman."
"It's not that. You did your job as best you could, and I believe you. But I don't like to think I'm becoming an easy lay for any man."
His grin calmed her.
"You'd rather put up a little fight, huh, Vicki?"
"Yes."
"That way you can tell yourself you didn't really want to put out ... the man forced you. Isn't that the way it is?"
"Never mind. Let's go up to my office, and have a private chat."
"I can't. I'm still sore from yesterday."
"That wasn't what I meant. Save your energy for the precinct captains. I want you to meet my wife. She's my secretary. She can give you some good wifely suggestions."
"What about?"
"How to help a politician. She's helped me, probably a lot more than I know about."
"Does she?...."
"That's her secret. I wouldn't know, and I don't think I want to. I believe Anne and you will get along well. Come and meet her."
Anne Frye was a small, pretty girl whose hair was as dark as Victoria's was blonde. She had enormous, firm breasts and a bit broader hips than most short women had. She was a doll, Vicki thought, seeing her for the first time. Anne was made for adults to play with.
Anne rose from behind a typewriter desk in Frye's outer office, when he and Victoria came in.
"Maybe you can give Mrs. Holmes some good advice. She wants her husband to win in this fall's election," Elmer said to his wife, after she and Vicki had been introduced. "I have some investigating to do on another candidate. You two will have the office to yourselves."
As soon as Elmer left, Anne strode with fluid, ungirdled grace to the office couch, onto which she seemed to drop. She patted the seat cushion beside her.
"Sit down, honey, and let's see what we can do with your problem. I've had plenty of experience helping my husband and some of his friends."
Victoria sat beside Anne. There was some mysterious, magnetic quality about Anne. So Victoria told her the whole story of Verne and Alma, of how they had been lovers before she had stolen Verne from her mother.
"So it looks like a case of jealousy and revenge," Anne remarked. "This might take some planning, but I believe I can come up with something."
Her glance ran rapidly up and down Vicki's shapely body and legs, and it stopped at Victoria's oval face.
Vicki was reminded of the way Hariett Simpson had looked at her.
"You do want to help your husband, don't you, Vicki?"
"Of course, I do. That's why I'm here."
"How far are you willing to go along that route?"
"Only as far as necessary."
"That might be quite far." Anne's arm passed behind Vicki and settled around her supple waist. "We're big girls now, honey," Anne whispered. "There's no sense in pulling any punches. Every favor must be paid for in some way. You can pay me in advance, dearest."
"How much? I haven't much money with me."
Anne laughed and tightened her arm around Vicki.
"No money. Just follow my lead. I'm sure you'll get a charge out of your advance payment."
Victoria stiffened and started to draw away, but Anne asked a distracting question:
"Have you let Elmer lay you yet?"
"Why...." Victoria's face flamed.
"Never mind. My question is answered. Isn't he a terrible fucker the first time he lays a woman?"
"I didn't want ... I didn't let him. He forced me in Hamilton's office. I don't go around seducing husbands."
"And then he got all excited and popped his nuts before you were ready to come? Oh, I know Elmer, maybe better than he thinks I do. Men don't understand a woman's need-not like another woman does."
Anne laid a hot hand on Vicki's breast.
"No. Don't."
But she opened her mouth to Anne's lips.
Anne's tongue was surprisingly thick, and it whipped Vicki's slender tongue around in her mouth. It seemed just like Verne's or Hamilton's or any other man's tongue she had enjoyed sucking. A warmth grew deeply within her and spread to her pussy. Victoria's arms raised slowly to loop loosely over her brunette lover's neck.
"Just a moment, darling."
Anne pulled out of Vicki's loose embrace and went to flick the lock on the outer door of the office.
"The first second I saw you, I knew I had to do you, sweetie. I just know you'll be good and sweet and juicy. Redheads always are."
Anne licked her lips as she reached beneath her own skirt and skinned a pair of filmy panties down and off her legs. She moved to the couch and held out her arms.
"Stand up, Victoria darling."
As in a trance, Vicki stood and swayed into Anne's arms. She but half heard the zipper on the back of her dress being lowered. Her panties were stripped down to her ankles, and she stepped out of them. All of her clothing that Anne left on her were the lacy garter belt, suntan hose, and the blue, needle-heeled shoes.
A slight push of Anne's nose at her navel and Victoria sank onto the office couch. If this was what it took to eliminate Alma from the ballot....
She sighed, opened her upthrust knees, and waited, staring hot eyed up at the grinning Anne. Since Hariett had delighted her, Vicki was eager to try another woman's brand of diddling.
"You've gone this route before, haven't you, Vicki?"
"Yes. But aren't you going to undress?"
"No."
"But how can I? ... You'll want me to do you too, won't you?"
"Huh-uh. I'll take care of myself. I've never let a woman go down on me. I prefer to go it alone."
"But that's so one-sided. I'll want to...."
Her mouth was once again filled by Anne's tongue. Her right breast was palpated by a long-fingered, gentle hand, while the other hand parted her pubic fur. She groaned softly, grunted, and arched her pussy up to the finger that was already twiddling her long clitoris. She moaned and clawed for the thick growth of hair on Anne's head.
Her hot slot was being pleasantly stabbed by three long-nailed fingers. But she cried out with pain when a fingernail stabbed into the tiny opening of her cervix. She flounced as a beached fish, and she stuttered Anne's name while the color drained from her face. Her heels frantically sanded the seat cushion.
"No!" She tensed. "That ... that hurts."
Anne was lust driven to make this woman come. Then she would be the master, Vicki the passion slave. She wormed her long fingernail as far into the mouth of Victoria's uterus as it could go. Her thumb pressed the clitoris and vibrated it rapidly.
Victoria's smooth belly was cording and tremoring rapidly. Her cunt heaved itself up around Anne's fingers. The fingernail inside her scraped and pained, but in the hurting was a thrill that her body answered by hugging the digit as if it were a cock. Drool ran from a corner of her mouth until Anne withdrew her fingers.
"Oh!" Vicki gasped.
But almost at once soft lips and a maddening tongue replaced the fingers. Vicki mewed and spread herself to those hot lips and that insistant tongue. Shudders ran through her, and the chill that told of her nearing climax raised the hairs on her arms that were beating the couch cushions.
Neither woman heard Elmer's key grating in the door lock, and both were deaf to his exclamation of surprise. He heeled the doop shut behind him and bent double with laughter.
Anne's arm was hidden by her upraised skirt and vibrated from the motions of her self-frigging. In her passion, her teeth nipped Vicki's tender flesh folds.
Victoria whinnied, and her legs shot straight up, toes pointing to the ceiling. Her hips raised from the couch and flexed as the muscles-in her legs twitched and throbbed.
Her belly corded for a moment, and then it flexed and flexed again, pumping out her product into Anne's thirsty mouth. Her head raised from the armrest of the couch from the force of her coming.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she kept saying, and her legs jerked with each inner spasm.
A slurpy, choking sound came from Anne until she had sucked Victoria dry. She backed away from the creamy delicacy.
"You taste just like butterscotch candy, darling," she said, just before she sensed Elmer's presence.
He stood grinning at the women as he pulled down the tab of his zipper.
"Elmer!" Anne cried.
She stood up, shook down her dress and stooped to pick up her panties.
Elmer went to kneel between Victoria's still-outspread legs.
She lay trembling and sobbing in humiliation, her face pressed to the back of the couch.
"Go away," she muttered.
But she let Elmer whip the head of his cock around in the entrance to her cunt until he j had whipped a froth of lubricant.
"Wuh!" she grunted, when he plunged his big-headed pecker into her sudsy pussy.
He slipped an arm beneath her hips and brought her up higher around him, and he chuckled when her body moved steadily in the motions of fucking.
"No," she moaned. "Oh, please, d-don't. Anne's watching."
"Be my guest," said Anne. "He can give me a longer screw after he's fucked you."
Victoria sobbed in humiliation, and she wouldn't look at Anne, as Elmer screwed the daylights out of her.
After Elmer had finished them both off, she lay perspiring and breathing heavily as she watched him stuffing his dong into his pants. She heard Anne speak to her:
"All you will have to do, Vicki, is convince the precinct captains and the ward leaders to push for Verne."
Vicki sobbed like a newly punctured virgin.
"You're all shook up," Elmer said, as Anne helped Victoria dress. "I'll drive you home."
"I drove downtown. I can drive back. What I don't need is for you to get another hard-on and screw me in my own house."
George must've been right, Victoria thought, as she drove home. The Frye's opinion was the same as Hamilton's. She would have to shell out for the proper people. She wondered who would be next to mount her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As she drove away from Frye's office, Victoria bit her lip.
"Damn that sneaking bastard!" she said, of Elmer Frye. "Damn all men. All they want of a woman is to screw the living hell out of her." She thought of Anne Frye. "And some women too. But why me? Why am I such a patsy? I'll be damned if I'll help Verne like this. He would hate me if he knew what I was doing," she told the steering wheel.
She turned into her driveway and slammed on the brakes.
Leaving the front door open, she called through the house for Helen, but no voice answered. She was vaguely aware of a car stopping at the curb in front of the house, but she paid no attention. She ran up the stairs and along the hall to the master bedroom. Stripping off her dress, she flung it over the back of a chair, and then she scampered into the bathroom.
When she laid her wristwatch on the water tank above the toilet, she noticed it was only two o'clock. It would be at least three hours before Verne was due to come home. She could have a leisurely shower.
Just before she stepped into the tiled cubicle, she heard girlish voices made indistinct by being filtered through the bathroom window. She peered out and down. In the back yard Helen and a girl friend were talking and giggling.
Vicki smiled as she stepped into the shower, thinking of Helen, envying her the innocence of youth. There was another reason to give up the rat race of trying to help Verne as she was doing: Helen must not discover what a fucker her mother was.
The hiss and splash of the water and the closed glass door effectively muffled the sound of the front door closing, the sharp click of the lock and the slurring sounds of someone mounting the stairs and padding down the hall.
The man went into the bedroom and sniffed the air that was scented with perfume, makeup, and a heady smell of womanhood. He crossed the room and looked into the adjoining bathroom. The pink form of a woman was indistinct beyond the frosted glass shower door. He grinned as he stepped backward into the bedroom. He stripped off his clothes and tossed them onto the pile of Victoria's clothing. Then, nude, he padded silently into the bathroom. He stood waiting impatiently for Vicki to come from the steamy cubicle.
Victoria felt better, cleaner, not so uptight from her experience with Anne. But she must not lie to herself, she had enjoyed the dyking.
She soaped herself generously, and when the bar of soap passed over her nipples, they tingled and began to grow. Sudsing her fur-covered pussy, she thought how empty a woman's loving had left her ... , until Elmer had thrown the meat into her. Had Anne used a big, thick dildo, ahhh, that would've sent her over the hill.
She leaned against a wall of the shower, spread her legs, then adjusted and directed the water to a thick, heavy stream that beat erotically on her clitoris.
Her breathing shortened, and she knew a terrible need to be laid. She took the long-handled bath brush from where it hung by a ribbon from the neck of the shower head, and she plunged the long, lucite handle deeply into her vagina. Her eyes rolled up as she flinched and moaned loudly.
Her moan stirred the intruder into action. He snatched open the shower door and put one foot on the tiled floor, then he noticed what Vicki was doing.
"A man would be better than that thing, darling."
Victoria squealed and dropped the brush.
George Hamilton turned off the water and reached for Vicki who was cowering in a corner.
"You!" she squealed.
Her gaze dropped to his cock that was waggling and growing rapidly.
He snatched a thick bath towel off a nearby rack and wrapped her in it.
"Get out of here, George."
"You need a good fucking, and I'm the guy who'll give it to you."
"No!"
She punched his hairy chest and flat belly, but he laughed and brought his open mouth onto hers. She didn't try to pull away, for his hot tongue felt good as it flailed her own tongue to and fro. It was nearly as good as having his cock punching her tonsils. She began to suck his tongue as if it were the tastiest lollipop she had ever tasted.
If only Elmer could have done a more thorough job on her, she wouldn't now be responding so readily to a man she had sworn to avoid.
She tried to sway her body away from his towel-covered, snatching hand, but a rude finger snaked into her rectum. She cried out into his mouth, leaped high, and clamped her legs around his waist. Now she was spread for a man, riding her dampening pussy the length of his greasy cock. The plum-shaped head poked between her hips, and her clitoris throbbed from rubbing on the root of his shaft.
She flung her arms around his neck to keep from falling. She tried to still her body that was surging against his as if they were already screwing.
He stepped from the shower with her clinging even more snugly to him.
"Put me down."
"Sure I will. Don't be so impatient."
"Damn you, George, I don't want to be fucked."
"The hell you don't. You want a pecker so bad you were using the bath brush handle. Get with it and have fun."
"No. Somebody might come."
"I wouldn't be surprised."
He straddled clumsily into the bedroom with her, and he fell on top of her, onto the bed.
"Helen. She's in the back yard with a girl friend. She might catch us. Get off me!"
But even as she protested, her hand was sliding between them, reaching for his peter.
She twiddled the head of it up and down the length of the widening slot of her cunt. He lunged down and into her.
"Ugh!" she grunted, flinging her arms as far apart as they would go.
She had surrendered. She forgot Helen and everything, except the delights of his motions within her. She hooked her heels behind his knees.
"Ohhh, George. George! Don't come too quick ... please?"
"I'm good for at least an hour, darling. I jacked off while I was watching you in the shower."
"George! That's ... that's a terrible insult to a woman."
He drew far back, and then he rammed down into her, all the way to the bottom of her love tube.
"Ahhhh!"
"Mother! Mother!" the shrill voice of Helen broke through the panting sounds in the master bedroom. The girl was calling from the kitchen.
"Goddamn it, get off me, George!" Victoria demanded.
He leaped to where his clothes were piled, snatched them up, and dashed into the clothes closet at the far end of the bedroom.
When Helen came into the room, her mother was alone in bed, covered up to her passion-reddened face by the upper sheet.
"Are you ill, Mother?"
"No, darling. I was just ... uh ... taking a nap."
"Your face is all red. You don't look so good."
"I'm all right. I was dreaming."
"Oh? Well, I wanted to ask if I could go over to Sylvia's house for supper?"
"Go ahead."
"You'd better put Daddy's sock away. He might get peed off at you."
"What sock?"
Helen went to a spot before the closet door and picked up one of George's socks.
"I don't see the other one. Maybe it's in the closet."
Vicki sprang from bed just as her daughter reached for the closet doorknob.
"No! I'll get it. You go on out to Sylvia."
After Helen left the room, after she had glanced back so accusingly, Victoria sighed and leaned against the wall beside the closet door. She was unprepared for George's rush from the closet. He clasped her body to his and rushed her onto her back, again onto the bed.
He flung his clothes once more at the chair.
"We've some unfinished business, honey."
"No. I'm out of the mood."
"Oh, come off it. You're never out of the mood. Don't give me that crap."
"Why do you keep after me, George?"
"Because the urge to merge with you is something I can't shake. You're too good a screw to let go to waste with a damned brush handle."
"I'm going to stop putting out for you every time you get a hard-on, George Hamilton."
"The hell you are!"
He wedged himself between her smooth legs. He held her supine with one hand while, with his other, he guided his rigid peter to her twat.
"I'm not ready, I tell you."
"You will be. Hold still."
She shrieked when he socked it into her.
"That hurts! Pull it out! Pull it out!"
Sure ... after I've come. Hold still, I said."
Fortunately he was a greasy shafted man, and soon her own oil was flowing.
"Damn you to hell, George Hamilton."
His hips were like driving weights, his cock a drilling machine as he fucked her without mercy.
She sensed the anger of his frustration, and she felt no answering urge to be screwed. "Get off me, damn it!"
She tried to push him off her, but he plunged on.
Despite her anger, she noticed the heat of passion was softening her resistance. Her arms went around his neck, and her legs slid up over his gyrating hips.
"Vicki! Where are you?" Verne's loud voice bawled from the first floor.
"Oh, my God!" she gasped.
Once more George jumped for his clothes. Grabbing all of them to his perspiring chest, he dashed into the bathroom.
Victoria whisked a filmy nightgown from the closet and slid it down over her still-heaving body.
"I'm up here, Verne," she called, hopping back into bed.
"What's the matter? Are you sick, Vicki?"
"I was only taking a nap. Why're you home so early?"
"Somebody called me, saying she'd seen you going into Frye's office. Did you go there?"
"Yes. That was early this afternoon."
"What the hell business could you have with that bastard?"
"I went to see Anne his wife, not Elmer."
"What for?"
He came all the way into the bedroom. "To see if she could help me arrange a way to keep Mama off the ballot in November." Verne sneered.
"That's a good story, but it won't hold water. I believe you have the hots for Elmer Frye."
"Verne!"
"Well, hell, what good could his wife do?"
"You might be surprised."
"I certainly would."
He sat on the side of the bed and threw the sheet off his wife. He yanked her nightgown high and thrust his shoulders between her legs.
"Verne! What are you d-doing?"
He buried his nose in her humid pussy, and she squealed as she tried to hoist him up and over her.
He straightened up and began to undress.
"You might be telling the truth. I didn't smell any cum in you."-
"What a helluva thing to do."
"It's the only way I know to make sure you haven't been screwed."
"How dare you accuse me of ... of being an easy lay!"
"Believe me, it's not hard to do, considering some of the rumors I've been hearing lately."
"What rumors?"
"I've heard you have the hots for Hamilton."
"That's a damned lie!"
"Is that so? Then what about that state representative that you shacked up with one afternoon early in last December in the Bilton Hotel?"
"Who? Why, I've never known a representative."
"Vicki, I think you're a goddamn liar. What about that Christmas card we got from representative Shalleck? I don't know him. If you don't know him, why did he send us the card?"
"I had forgotten that."
"I shouldn't wonder. How many other guys have poured the meat to you that you've forgotten?"
His voice had an edge to it that frightened Victoria. She flung off her nightgown and threw her arms around her husband's neck.
"Darling, you know how dirty politics can be. Somebody's out to smear us. I wouldn't be surprised if Mother hadn't started all those lies. You aren't really angry with me because of a bunch of malicious gossip, are you, honey?"
She kissed him, bruising her lips with the force that she hoped would eradicate Verne's suspicions.
He was hot for her as she was hot for him. No other lay had come his way for several days. He'd had to be content with Jean, his office wife, and that was getting to be a habit. Olive had been indisposed. Alma was angry and jealous, and now she was a political enemy; so it was a case of back to the old home course for poor Verne.
He sighed as he reached around his wife and stroked her sensitive hips. He smiled all the short time it took for him to undress.
She must get his mind off all the lurid details of the rumors he must've heard about her. Besides, he was a better fucker than Hamilton, and she had been teased enough for one day.
She glanced at the hall door that Verne had left partly open. Helen could damned well peek in if she wanted to. Nothing was going to cheat Victoria of a royal fucking.
She looked at the partly open door of the bathroom and saw part of George's broad face peering around the edge of the door. She winked at him and laughed at the frown that clouded his handsome face.
Lying back on the bed, she adjusted the attitude of her body to fit that of her husband, and it was she who breathed, "Wait a minute," as she shoved a pillow under her ass.
Now that her cunt jutted up so conveniently, Verne had no trouble feeding his up-turned pecker into her hungry pussy.
"Ahhhhh," she sighed. "Go to it, lover boy."
She winked in the direction of the bathroom and giggled as if she were Helen when the girl was well pleased with herself.
Verne punched her for only a few strokes, and then he wrestled her onto her belly and up on all fours, crosswise of her bed.
She knew what he was about to do.
"No! Not back there, honey. Oh, no!"
"Hold still."
She was about to flounce away from her husband's clasp, but she looked first over her shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she saw fully dressed George Hamilton, glowering with anger, tiptoeing to the hall door.
Verne parted the cheeks of her hips while her attention was distracted. An uncomfortable pressure of her anus brought a loud grunt of protest from her. She tried to relax to avoid the pain of his entry. There was no pain this time, for his up-curved cock was still shiny with her sexual lubricant, and he slipped easily into her asshole.
"Verne, don't."
"Shut up, damn it. I'll bet this is one hole your boy friends aren't so wild about. So it's all mine!"
He socked his meat all the way in, and she felt his balls banging at her pussy.
His arm that was around her waist held her steadily to his thrusts.
A hand roughly kneaded her breasts as his heavily filled scrotum swung hard against her cunt and the happy button just above the slot. This wasn't as bad as the other times he had buggered her. With practice, he had acquired a technique that wasn't bad at all. In fact, the whispery, wet sounds of their collisions were quite stimulating, and she began to moan.
Two girlish faces peered, wide eyed, around the jamb of the hall door until Vicki started moaning; then the faces disappeared. Neither Verne nor Victoria knew they had been seen.
When they had stopped running, out in the Holmes's back yard, Sylvia said to Helen:
"Gee, your folks screw differently than mine." She grinned at Helen. "Let's get a boy to screw us that way, huh?"
"You know I don't let boys fuck me yet. Besides, the one boy I would've let do it to me, got too hot and came on the skirt of my best dress."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The telephone in Alma Green's apartment rang early one evening in late July.
"This is Anne Frye," a pleasant voice said. "My husband is the election supervisor for Franklin County. We understand you will file as a candidate for that Councilman-at-large post?"
"I certainly will."
"I'm sure I can help you get started, if you're new in politics. Could you come out to our home tomorrow, Mrs. Green?"
Alma was glad for any help she might receive. She agreed to visit Anne Frye late the next afternoon.
"Are you setting her up for a booby trap, dear?" Elmer asked his wife.
"Not yet. I want to have some fun with her first."
"Why, sure, chickaree. Any old portal in a storm, I've always said. I'd like to have some of that stuff too. I've heard Alma's quite a lay."
"I think we'll both see how she is, if you don't blow the whistle too soon."
While she was showering the next afternoon, Alma wondered if she ought to fill herself with that new mint-flavored birth control foam. She remembered that only a few months ago her doctor had said he thought she was going into early menopause. It was quite likely her baby making days were over. Yet ... Just to be on the safe side, she filled her vagina with the tiny, tickling bubbles.
Admiring herself in the full-length mirror on the bedroom side of the bathroom door, Alma noticed her flesh was still firm, and her ( skin looked fresh and soft as that of a young girl. The exciting curves still caused erections on her numerous boy friends, and her face was still beautiful, clear eyed and full lipped. She smiled with pleasure at her reflection.
Just for the hell of it, she left off her panties and brassiere. Dressed only in a dark-blue mini-skirt, a long-sleeved, high-necked white blouse and blue, thin heeled shoes, she felt ready to take on anything that might come up.
She took up her bulky purse and trotted from her apartment to her car.
"Let's get business out of the way first," Anne suggested.
She delayed long enough to mix a pair of new drinks that were called Pussycats. She handed one to Alma, who had sat in Elmer's favorite reclining chair.
"There's nothing Elmer can legally do to help you, Alma. It's because of his position on the election board. But I can call the shots that'll give you the best odds to win."
She sat across the living room on her long couch that could become a bed. Sipping her drink through a plastic straw, Anne nearly choked when she noticed Alma's shapely legs part and close and part again, as if she were becoming turned on. She could even see the blonde fur that covered Alma's pussy. "So tell me, dear."
Alma's smile was taunting. Damn, she thought, but Anne is a cute piece of femininity.
"You'll have to influence precinct captains and ward leaders, Alma. They'll do half your work by steering their constituents' thoughts into the proper channels that could lead to the winning number of ballots for you. Do you think you can hold still for such a deal?"
"I never hold still. I'm always with the action."
Anne could not sit still. Didn't Alma's thighs quiver? Hadn't they parted more widely? It was as if she had been given an invitation.
Alma watched Anne stand up and float toward her. She noticed the lowered eyes. Her pussy grew hot and moist, as if the line of Anne's sight were a long pecker prodding her where it counted.
She set what little was left of her drink on a convenient table and widened the spread of her legs. She breathlessly awaited Anne's approach.
With a kittenish cry, Anne's last restraint broke. Her head whirled with the prospect so invitingly spread before her gaze. She licked her lips and mewed again. She flung herself to her knees and scrambled up between Alma's hot thighs. She grabbed Alma's knees and dragged her flat on the reclining chair. Her open, drooling mouth leeched onto the swelling cuntal lips of her guest.
Alma grunted and shoved her body at Anne, wondering why she was so attracted to this small, neatly shaped woman. But when the final contact was made, she cried out and no longer had the intelligence to wonder at anything. There was only raw sensation.
A soft hand impatiently brushed her miniskirt above her pubic hairline. The long fingernails hurt for a moment as they wormed open the fleshy folds of her pussy, and she gasped when Anne's tongue flicked heavily over her clitoris.
A faint scent of peppermint floated up from the wetness that was being whipped to a delicious, frothy cream.
Anne drew her lips reluctantly away from the succulent morsel. She plunged two fingers into the hot, sweet-scented opening to heat the woman even more. She watched Alma's dreamy eyed face for signs of rising passion.
"Oh!" Alma gasped, shoving her body lower on the chair.
Anne smiled when she saw Alma's eyes go round and wide and the filming of lust dull their glitter.
Anne withdrew her fingers and sniffed the peppermint perfume that had grown stronger. She licked her lips.
"I gotta have more of that," she croaked.
And then she dived in earnest to the tasty womanhood at her disposal.
Loose as her blouse was, it was too tight for Alma's swelling breasts. She pulled the tail end of it from her skirt band and opened the blouse all the way down the front. And then she froze for an instant, because Anne's long tongue had whipped up and down over her fleshy trigger.
She groaned and viciously grabbed both her own breasts, cruelly pinching the nipples with her fingernails.
Looking bleary eyed down her heaving body, Alma watched, without really seeing the movement of the head of lush, dark .hair at the V of her legs. She felt the vibrations of Anne's hum of pleasure, and she herself whimpered from the brief stabs of pain Anne's nipping teeth caused.
She couldn't help but grow restless from the delights Anne was giving her. She didn't try to stop her body from easing lower on the chair, from levering up to the devouring mouth. She mashed Anne's nose flat from the force of her eagerness. Her mouth flopped open. She gasped for air, and her little pink tongue dashed back and forth across her swollen lower lips.
Ahhh, Jesus, but Anne was a darling lover.
"Darling-g-g," Alma sang, in a throaty voice. "Darling-g-g. I'm ... I'm ... Oh! Oh, yes!"
It was as if her body were turning inside out. She felt that her tenderest parts had become nourishment for Anne's greedy mouth. She panted and cried out once more, and then she sighed and was sated for the time being.
Tiredly, Anne licked the last drops of Alma's nectar from her lips as she sank back to sit on her heels and rest.
"You're delicious, darling," she breathed. "Peppermint has always been my favorite flavor. How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Flavor your pussy with peppermint."
"That's my secret."
She wiped perspiration from her still-turgid breasts, and she groaned as she pulled herself upright in the chair. She hoped that no-baby foam was edible. It would be terrible to poison Anne, just when the woman had given her so much pleasure.
"If my husband comes home before you leave, Alma, would you mind if he tasted you? He loves mint flavor too."
Alma giggled, thinking what a perfect kiss-off to her visit it would be to have a man grazing in her Elysian field.
"I think I'd like that," she told Anne, as she scratched her itching cunt that the foam bubbles tickled.
Anne swiped the back of her hand over her mouth. She licked her lips, and her eyes were glazed from the wonder of discovering a mint-flavored pussy.
"Do you want me to do you now?" Alma asked.
"No. No, thank you. I never let women go down on me. I'm strictly a man's woman." Alma laughed. "Surely not strictly?"
"Well...."
The door was flung open, and Elmer strode into the room.
Alma's hands fluttered as she tried to lower her still-hiked up mini-skirt. But from Elmer's grin and the way his tongue flicked over his lips, she knew he had seen her pussy and the wet, matted fur that crowned it. Despite her sophistication, she flushed, but she was not embarrassed.
Elmer tilted his head and sniffed loudly.
"It smells like an ice cream bar in here. What's with it?"
"Alma's with it, that's what." Anne said, laughing. "She's really hep. Her twat's full of peppermint candy."
"No! You've got to be kidding."
"But I'm not. Try her and see for yourself."
"Is this the woman who's going to run against Verne Holmes in November?"
"Yes, and believe me she has a ballot box that's out of this world."
"This I have to see for myself."
He tossed his coat and tie onto the couch. Before he went to where Alma still lay, spread and waiting, he removed his shirt and tossed it onto the coat and tie.
Alma smiled, for she liked hairy men, and Elmer was furry as a bear. She hoped he would fuck her first, because all that fur sliding on her breasts and tender belly skin would be really something.
But she sighed and opened her legs wider, when he sank to his knees and crawled slowly between her still-damp thighs.
Alma giggled when he inhaled noisily and then plunged his mouth to a perfect mating with her place of the vertical smile. At the first touch of his rough tongue, she groaned and trembled, for it was wider and longer than Anne's tongue.
Within a very few seconds, Alma arrived
"Oh!" she said. "Ughhh!"
Now she needed filling with something more solid than a tongue, something that could slide all the way to the far end of her love cave.
"Fuck me!" she demanded.
A wet sound as of suction being broken came from Elmer when he drew free of her clasping thighs.
He looked up over her heaving belly and the swollen hills of her breasts and into her lust-bright eyes.
"Sure, I'll screw you, doll ... right now."
He was on his feet, and his arms went around Alma. He lifted her and staggered to the couch.
Anne whisked his clothing off the couch, and when he laid Alma where they had been, she stripped off Alma's skirt and blouse while Elmer undressed.
Alma lay waiting, trembling with anticipation, for it had been a few days since she had been fucked. When she saw Elmer's cock waggling over her face, she gasped, even as she reached for it.
"Why ... why," she stammered, "the head of it is so big, and its shaft so thin! Hurry up, Mr. Frye. I've never had one quite like yours."
So when he pushed the pear-shaped head of his cock to her entrance, she grunted because of the resistance of her sphincter.
"Easy! Easy. I'm not sure I can...."
He reached around her body and grasped her hips. He let his weight bear his big-headed prick another fraction of an inch into Alma.
"Ohhh, yeah!" She caught her breath. "Hurt me!"
Gritting his teeth because of her tightness, Elmer inched his knees closer to her hips and gathered his muscle power to sock his shaft all the way into her. But her resistance was stronger than his slender staff was rigid. He felt himself bend, and he cried out from the pain.
"Stick your thumbs in her armpits," Anne suggested.
Alma shrieked in anguish when Elmer's thumbs stabbed the sensitive nerves under her arms. He drove down and all the way into her while her body was busy combating the pain in another place. The huge head of his pecker ballooned Alma's vagina.
"Ugh! Oh! Oh, Jesus," she gasped.
She didn't hear Anne's laughter nor the wet "floop-p," that was the sound of Elmer's entry.
She was stretched as far as could be inside, farther than any other pecker had stretched her.
When he moved back and forth, she felt her juices flowing to ease her lover's progress. He slid easily now, and her vagina contracted around his slender shaft. But when the doorknob-sized head of his dick sank and withdrew, her muscles easily made way for his progress.
He chuckled as his speed increased. He murmured over his shoulder to his spectator wife:
"Wow! This woman has a snatching twat. That I really go for. Ummm, boy!"
He drove harder, and Alma's legs whipped higher to allow him deeper penetration.
She was panting, and her belly was flexing regularly. Her portal closed tighter around him, and her body sprang up and down, milking him.
"I h-hope you're ready," he panted. "I'm about ... ohhhh, yes!"
It was as if a bomb of scalding semen exploded within Alma. She shrieked once, twice; and then her body snatched forth the whole of his male essence. Her legs kicked the air as her fists beat the seat cushions of the couch. And when his final shot zeroed in on the mouth of her thirsty womb, she jackknifed up from the cushion beneath her head. The terrific grasp of her arms nearly suffocated him.
Anne stood beside them, amazed to see Alma's wide, staring eyes roll back in their sockets. She was astonished to hear her husband swear and to hear him damn his fate that he could not go on squirting the juice into this avid-bodied woman.
He was reluctant to back out of the blonde bomber, but he was shrinking and could no longer quench the remaining heat in her belly. Pulling all the way out, he giggled when he heard the "sloop-p!" of his withdrawal. A faint odor of peppermint flared his nostrils, and he licked his lips, when he recalled how delicious she had tasted.
Alma groaned and rolled to face the back of the couch.
"I'm shot down," she muttered.
Elmer stood on shaky legs. He looped an arm around his wife and led her to the far side of the room.
"That babe really has a snatch. She's smart too, flavoring her twat. Her sexual skill, her intelligence, and her eagerness to fuck, should carry her far. I'm beginning to think we'd better back this doll in the fall election. I believe she's more apt to win than that Holmes guy."
Anne listened intently to her husband. She was pleased to hear him declare himself for Alma. She licked her lips in memory.
"I'm with you, lover. All the way. Just think how pleased those ward leaders will be with Active Alma. Ohhh, my!"
She hugged herself and danced around the room.
"Will someone please help me to sit up?" Alma's voice quavered from the couch.
"My heavens! I've never been so ... so filled with peter. That was a wonderful screw, Elmer." Then turning to Anne, Alma added, "Thanks for sharing your, darling man. Oh, wow!"
When Alma got home, Helen, her granddaughter, was leaving.
"Come in and we'll have a nice visit. You can tell me how you and Johnny Satterlee are getting along."
"No, thank you, Grandmother. Is it true you're going to run against Daddy for that city council job?"
"Yes, but why should you care?"
"I love you, and I love Daddy, but I know love him best. Why don't you drop out and le him have the job?"
"I couldn't possibly do that. I'm not chicken, Helen."
"If that's the way you want it, I don't guess I'll be seeing you very often. Good-bye Grandma."
CHAPTER NINE
By the middle of August, George Hamilton official party boss for the county, was concerned because of Alma Green's growing popularity.
He called in Herb Spooner, the ward leader of his home ward.
"If Mrs. Green gets on the council, she'l stir up the women voters. Then there'll be hell to pay," George said. "It could mean a crackdown on our hotel girls and the big poker parties. They might even shut off the payola from the city purchasing department. We have to stop Alma now!"
"Then you'll have to have something super for the ward men. A lot of them have beer laying Alma, and after they have, they're for her one hundred percent."
"How about money? Our party treasury if fat just now. Maybe some of the boys need a loan?"
"I doubt it. They've all got their angles-me included. Besides, there's too much danger in bribery. Something in the sex department could be the answer."
"We've still got Mrs. Holmes on tap. She's no slouch in bed."
"I know, but it's like traveling a familiar road when you're fucking her. A lot of the boys want a change of scenery, so to speak. She's not exactly the fireball in bed that her mother is. Of course, some of the fellows go for her slow type of screwing."
As Herb was leaving Hamilton's office, he combed his bushy moustache with his fingers.
"If you can dredge up some fresh stuff for the boys, I think Holmes would have a better chance to win the election. They'd rather have him on the council than Alma."
George had an inspiration as he was closing the door behind Spooner. He went to the telephone, called the Holmes residence, and asked Helen to come to his office.
When she arrived, she stood for a moment in the doorway to his private office. Her flaming red hair was hanging loose over her shoulders. Her lime green mini-skirted dress hugged her form like wallpaper. Below the brief skirt, her smooth, milk-white legs tapered down into her high-topped green boots.
As many times as George had seen her, he was always surprised by her fresh appearance. He watched her turn slowly as a model displaying the merchandise. He felt a tiny throb of interest when she licked her full lips to make them shine. He flapped a hand toward his office couch.
"Sit down, honey. I called you down here to ask if you know a girl friend we could get to work for Verne's election."
"A girl friend, Uncle George?"
She took his hand and led him to the couch, where they sat closely together.
"Yes, a girl friend of about your age who gets turned on by older men. Your grandmother's so naturally talented in, uh, certain ways,' she's gaining in popularity; and that's going to win the election for her, unless we can find something to swing mens' opinions in your father's favor."
"But how can a girl of sixteen help Daddy?"
"I think you're old enough to guess how she could do that." He stroked her round, smooth knee. "This is a rough business, and some of the fellows in it are awfully choosy. They go for young stuff."
"I'm with it, Uncle George. But why couldn't I be the one to help Daddy?"
"I wouldn't want someone I love to go that route. You're almost like my own daughter."
He licked his lips and looked avidly down at her magnificent legs.
"If you called in outside help, they might someday get peed off at something and bring in the fuzz, because they'd be under the age for fair game. Daddy would lose out for sure if that happened."
He moved a little closer to her. Damn, but she was sending him! It was almost like taking a trip, as Helen's generation said. His fingers tickled the inside of her knee.
She giggled and moved closer to him.
"If you promise to clam up, I want to be the one to help him."
"No. I don't think you're the chick for the job, baby. I'd rather throw someone whom I didn't care about to those wolves."
"If you won't let me do the job, I'll be darned if I'll let another girl work for Daddy." She turned to George and slipped her arms around his neck. "If you're afraid I'd goof the deal, why not give me a try out? Almost every applicant for a job gets an interview. Who has a better right to apply for the job you have in mind, than me?"
Her face came closer to his. She kissed him, sweetly at first, but her ardent nature took over and her tongue shot into his mouth. George groaned, threw his arms around her, and crushed her firm, spherical breasts to his chest. His broad mouth devoured hers in the sudden, wet crush of a kiss that was more passionate than either had intended.
He shoved a hand between them and captured a heaving breast through the thin cloth of her dress. She gasped into his mouth, and his restraint vanished. His cock was hardening, and now it began to throb. He racked the zipper of her dress open, parted the cloth, and covered her naked breasts with an eager hand. She moaned and thrust her size thirty-eight bust up and at him.
They had to break apart for air.
She shrugged her dress off her shoulders and let it pile onto her lap. George's old eyes glittered at the sight of heaving, cherry topped melons.
He trembled with desire, even as he hesitated.
"Have you ... uh ... made love very often, dear?"
He was enthralled when her hand moved onto his lap and squeezed the throbbing bump in his pants.
"I've never gone all the way with the studs at school. They run and tell their friends what a good lay a girl is, or what a lousy one she is. They think I'm a square for not putting out, but when I do, I want experience with my meat. Teach me how I can help Daddy, Uncle George."
"I don't think I should be the stud to break you in."
She laughed and flung her arms around his neck. Into his hairy ear, she whispered:
"I've been saving my cherry for you. It's always been you I've thought of while the guys were trying to fire me up."
She stuck the tip of her tongue into his ear and ran it around the whorls and valleys.
"I'm almost hot enough to ... to fuck." She placed his hand on the well-filled crotch of her panties and spread her legs widely apart. "I just gotta know how it feels. The other debs tell me it's out of this world."
Her breath shortened when his fingers teased her through the dampening cloth of her panties. An odor, pleasant as that of freshly baked bread, floated up from her heating slot to make George's nose twitch like a rabbit's snoot.
She pressed her stiffening-nippled breasts to his chest. When she ran down the tab of the zipper on his pants and her fingers fumbled through the opening in his shorts, he groaned and yanked his belt buckle open.
They both sprang up from the couch and frantically shed their clothes.
Helen saw the gleaming greasiness of his cock for the first time. Her eyes went round, and her mouth was frozen in an "O." She ringed it with thumb and forefinger, just behind the swollen glans. She bent quickly and kissed the empurpled knob of flesh. He could not stop his thrust that drove his shaft into her throat.
"Ugh!" she said, and tumbled onto her back on the couch, pulling him with her.
She drew her mouth reluctantly from his staff, and the wet sound of parting was something like a kiss. She parted her legs and positioned herself without letting go of his cock.
When she had guided the head of his penis to her tight and quivering pussy, he asked a foolish question:
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Just screw me and get it over with."
He inched forward until her legs were doubled high above her breasts and his knees touched the soft cheeks of her ass.
While she rubbed the big head of his peter into the folds of her pussy, he bent over her and suckled first one nipple and then the other. Now she was lubricated and relaxed and fully opened to him.
George bucked forward.
"Arrrgh! Ow! Oh, Uncle George. Ahhhh."
"Sorry, dear."
He lost his hold on her kicking legs, and they settled over his back, drawing him down and all the way to the upper end of her vagina.
He tried to hold them to a slow pace, but when the sting of his penetration faded into the growing need to be fucked harder, her body whipped up and down and he had no choice but to follow her demand.
She gasped and gurgled and gulped as her body grew dewy with perspiration. The smell of her sexual musk was as an invisible fog that excited George to a frenzy of wild, stabbing plunges. But not for long could he fuck this delicious morsel at such a pace. The bomb blast of his coming surprised them both.
She was seared inside by the hot starch of his semen, and each shot he gave her brought another cry from, deep within her throat. Her arms around his neck almost choked him, and his testicles ached already from the force of their emptying.
"Drown me!" she yodeled, snapping her pussy around the shaft of his cock like an old pro.
She quavered his name between little squeals of rapture.
With a long sigh, she fainted dead away beneath him.
"I'll be damned," George mumbled. He withdrew from her and was astonished at the volume of fluid that oozed from between the slack lips of her pussy. "She's a newer edition of Alma," he said to himself. "Much better than her mother."
Helen was the best piece George had ever had.
At last he wiped them dry of the juices that were tinged pink by her hymenal bleeding. "Damn, but that was a good one!"
He kissed the shrinking nipple of a breast. When Helen returned to consciousness, she glanced around the office. "Where ... where am I?"
"You're all right, darling. You're here with your Uncle George."
"Was I ... was I all right?"
"You were out of this world, redhead."
"Boy, did you ever send me! Oh, wow!" He was astonished to see that at fifty-seven years old he could begin another erection so soon after such a thorough fucking as he had enjoyed.
"Ohhh, I didn't make you come."
"Yes, you did."
"But not enough. You've still got a hard-on, Uncle George."
She clutched his cock and bent double, until her mouth slipped down over the glistening, throbbing head of his peter.
He tried to shove her away, but she was determined to relieve him as she had relieved so many of her boy friends.
"Let me suck you off, Uncle George. That's the way I've always helped the boys who got too hot while they were trying to make out with me. They tell me I'm good at doing it that way. Please?"
George groaned, lay back on the couch, and watched her mop of flame-colored hair whisk up and down until he feebly climaxed.
After Helen had bathed her pussy in the wash bowl of George's office lavatory, and after she had gargled, she came grinning from the little room. She laughed to see the silly grin parting his age empurpled lips and the dazed look that clouded his sight.
"May I come back tomorrow for another lesson in how I can help Daddy get elected, Uncle George?"
He nodded and watched her sway gracefully from his office. Yes, sir, he had here, in Helen, the answer to Alma's educated pussy.
The race between Verne and his mother-in-law would become a sort of family screwing contest-Grandmother, daughter, and granddaughter.
George's laughter brayed through his empty office. He would have them all running in circles, never knowing who was doing what, nor with whom they did it.
"This is living!" he bawled, fumbling on the floor for his clothing.
At the same time his daughter was getting her coupon punched, Verne was struggling to satisfy a female ward leader.
Amelia Hall was a sexy looking woman. She was quite a different piece of ass from Olive Castleberry, for which Verne was at first thankful, but now, at three o'clock in the afternoon, he was regretting.
Down there, where Amelia's shapely legs joined her body, was a heavy growth of dark-brown hair. Screened by the fur was a nearly unquenchable pussy. Verne's tongue was tired-of trying to lick her into satiation, even as hisf'cock had refused to work after two-thirty.
He raised his head and peered up over the broad, heaving belly, up beyond the two small breasts to a face that was hideous with wanting.
"Please, Amelia, haven't you had enough?"
"H-hell, no," she panted. "Go on. Make me come again. Or aren't you man enough for that?"
"I've got a cramp in my tongue."
"Well, stick your fingers into me until the cramp passes. I've had the damnedest time trying to find a real man since my husband died. Verne, if you want me to back you, you have got to make me come more than a mere five times. When Alma rode me, I had six good, hard orgasms. So get with it, lover man, or should I say, school boy?"
"But, Amelia, I...."
She put her hands on the top of his head and tried to shove his mouth from her sopping wet pussy.
"Then get the hell away from me so I can call up Alma and ask her to come over and finish the job you've started."
Verne groaned as he ignored her effort to slide from beneath his shoulders. His tired mouth returned to her muff.
At three-fifteen, Amelia came.
"Ob, Jesus! Oh, Jesus!" she bawled, kicking the bed from the force of her coming. "Ohhhh, Verne! Verne! Verne!"
Later, when he came from Amelia's bathroom, he snapped a question at her:
"Well?"
"You ... you win, lover man. The way you used your teeth was really something. It was better than two of Alma's capers." She held out her hand. "Help me up so I can start calling the girls in my ward." She frowned at Verne, as she asked, "Would you do a few of them as you've done me?"
"Not for a few days. My tongue needs a rest. You're awfully tight down there for a widow."
And so Verne's campaign took on new life. Not the least credit for the gain went to Victoria. She had been assigned to the more obstinate ward leaders. George didn't want delicious Helen to encounter some infected cock because of her inexperience. Nor did he want to see the bruises of a brutal screwing on Helen's white body whenever he would go down on her or fuck her.
And George did not forget his heavy, mustachioed friend Harb Spooner. On a certain Thursday morning late in August, George called Herb.
"How would you like a weekend with a sixteen-year-old sex pot?"
"Would I! Lead me to her, George ol' buddy."
George's next call was to Helen Holmes.
CHAPTER TEN
Spring Lake was a beautiful stretch of clear water. Helen's eyes glowed the first time she saw it through the windshield of Herb Spooner's car early on Friday evening.
He turned the car into the sandy driveway of one of the few summer cottages that sat some fifty yards from the edge of the water.
"How does this scene grab you, honey?"
"It's beautiful, Mr. Spooner. It almost turns me on."
"I'll do that later, Miss Holmes. Just have patience."
Somehow, George Hamilton had convinced Verne and Victoria that a weekend with a family who was distantly related to him would be good for their daughter. But now Helen was uneasy because of the deceit. She paused to calm her conscience before stepping out of the car.
Helen helped carry in the food they had brought. She also carried one of the two-gallon thermos jugs into the house. She hoped it wasn't that awful limeade stuff in those two jugs.
"I suppose you know how to swim?" Herb asked, as he poured two large glassfuls of the liquid from one of the thermos jugs.
"I love to swim."
"As soon as you finish your drink, go put on a suit and we'll jump into the water."
"I didn't bring my bikini. How could I know we were going swimming?"
"I didn't bring my trunks, either. It's much nicer swimming bare-assed naked."
"Won't somebody see us?"
"Who's to see? Besides, it's nobody's business what we do here. Hurry up and finish your drink."
She easily beat him in their race across the narrow, sandy beach to the water. The light stripes across her back and her waggling behind, where her bikini had kept the sun from tanning her hide, excited Herb. His dangling peter stiffened.
Hindered by his weight and his erection, he was still waddling toward the water, when Helen reached knee-deep depth and turned to watch him. She couldn't repress a shudder when she pictured his flabby body smothering hers.
She giggled when she noticed how short and thick was his bobbling peter. She would get quite a charge out of teasing him.
Helen let him flounder almost to her, and then she turned, surface dived, and swam out into the lake, sure that he was far behind. But she didn't know Herb was an excellent swimmer.
She was in deep water when she felt her ankles grabbed by thick fingers. Another hand passed up her legs to her naked bottom. She swallowed water and coughed when that hand seized her pussy from behind. She kicked out, but her aim was poor, and she only felt her leg brush his penis and his low-hanging testicles. She coughed and sputtered and thought she was going to drown.
Herb rolled her onto her back, and he too turned face up in the water. Like all fat people, he floated high, and he made a pillow of his arm and shoulder to hold her face above the water. When her coughing stopped, he kissed her. Because his moustache was stiff and the ends of the hairs were sharp, it irritated her nose. She struggled to free her mouth from his. He held her head steady as he shoved his tongue halfway down her throat. His free hand caressed her breasts, her belly, and its fingers wormed through the sparse fur of her pussy, seeking her turn-on button.
She grabbed his upstanding cock and pumped it with a speed and vigor that she hoped would drain him of all desire to screw her. "Quit that, Helen."
She pumped even faster, tightening her grip. "No! No! I'll come."
She smiled as his arm that was around her neck relaxed. She grasped his fat and furry scrotum and squeezed as she speeded her jacking motions.
Suddenly Herb groaned, stiffened and sighed, as a white geyser spouted man high above them, fell to the water, and floated away in small, pearly rafts.
What pressure he had, Helen thought. Had he come inside her, he would surely have ruptured her vagina. With a derisive laugh, she struck out for the shore.
Once more he swam faster than she, and, as her feet touched the sandy bottom of the lake, his arm clamped around her. Without pausing, he carried her to a place on the beach just below where the grass started. He dumped her onto her back, upon the soft sand.
She flung out her arms and legs to break her fall. As soon as she landed, Herb was on his knees between her thighs, and his mouth came down hard on her pussy.
"Herb, don't!"
He grabbed her breasts and held her flat on her back. His moustache stabbed the tender lips of her pussy. When she tried to close her legs, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs was painfully scratched. She flung her legs widely apart and dug her heels into the sand to shove herself from his nipping teeth and the pricklings of his moustache. His hands clamped hard over her breasts. His tongue found her trigger, and her body leapt up to his demands. With a groan, she stopped her useless struggling. Her belly fluttered inside, and its surface was corded from the strain of her approaching climax.
The wet, sloppy whispers of what he was doing to her pussy turned Helen on even more. She groaned, laid her cheek on the sand, flung her arms straight out, and her breasts rode up and down from the quickenings of her breath. Her eyelids became too heavy to hold open.
"Ahhhhhh," she sighed, as colored lights flashed behind her closed eyelids, and she couldn't breathe fast enough. She was gasping, "I'm ... I'm ... Oh!"
She licked her lips and waited for the final instant. She was almost there. But now there was the breezy feeling of evening air cooling her wet, exposed pussy.
"What?...."
She was in a sexual daze. She offered no resistance when Herb flopped her over and drew her up onto her knees. His pubic bush tickled the backs of her thighs, her ass and her dripping vulva. A hand swiped across her swollen pussy lips, coating itself with her sexual lubricant.
Herb annointed his cock with Helen's oils and centered the head of it on her cute, pink and quivering bung hole.
"Not there! Not there! Oh, no!"
She tried to throw herself belly down onto the beach, but his strong arms snapped around her. He pinched her nipple until her fists beat on the sand, and she bawled loudly because of the pain.
Centered on the pain, the rest of her body relaxed its defenses. Her anal sphincter relaxed just as Herb's heavy hips drove his cock through the snug ring of muscle.
Helen screamed. The sand flew from where her fingers and toes scrabbled to draw her body free of his rapidly plunging cock. She gritted her teeth, flung her head back and forth and wailed until she clamped her teeth on her forearm.
"This is the best way to screw a damned woman," Herb growled, as he slammed his balls hard against her pussy.
She calmed her tortured mind, and when she relaxed, she found a new sensation growing within her. She expected, hoped he would reach around her legs and finger frig her into coming, because the feeling of fullness was not unlike that of a regular seduction.
Then he bawled an obscenity, and she knew the strange, bloating sensation of his ejaculation. It felt like a great, instant enema. She raised her mouth from her forearm to squeal her surprise.
Over there, beyond the next cottage, hadn't the bushes moved? Yes. She caught a glimpse of a disappearing back.
She groaned and blushed, for she knew they had been seen. Her head was too heavy for her neck. It dangled above her crossed arms. Her hair was an orange shawl spread on the sand, a sure identification to the peeper should he later see her somewhere. She didn't want to know who had seen them, and she was so absorbed by thoughts of the intruder that she hardly felt Herb's withdrawal.
As in a trance, she let him lead her to the house, walking stiff legged because her rearmost hole was already sore as hell.
Her pussy was still swollen with want, and she ached to be filled by a good, stiff cock, because Herb, the bastard, had left her hung up high as a flagpole.
After lunch, Herb kept away from Helen. He was polite but distant, and she wondered if she had somehow offended him.
"Why didn't you let me come, Herb?"
"I get a charge out of leaving a doll hung up-like they did to me when I was a fat, acne-faced kid. Sunday night, if you're a good kid and get with everything I want you to do, I'll make you come like crazy. Tonight I'm going to get drunker than a skunk, so don't bug me to fuck you."
He poured a tall martini from one of the thermos jugs.
Helen couldn't get to sleep after she'd gone to bed, alone. She tossed and turned and used her fingers as a phallus, but the hot demands of youth are not so easily satisfied. She went to stroll, nude, along the edge of the lake. The sand that was still warm from the sun drew her down to lie on her back and snuggle out a shallow bed in its softness. She stretched her arms above her head, crossed her wrists, and tried to relax into a nap.
As in a nightmare, a strong, muscular hand locked her wrists together, and when she opened her mouth to yell, a mouth covered hers, and a thick tongue flicked over her lips.
Visions of some strange man, perhaps ugly as sin, with running sores and an infected cock raping into her, froze Helen with its horror.
The mouth lifted from hers. As she drew in a huge lungful of air for her scream, she heard a familiar, whispering voice:
"Be quiet, honey, it's me. I saw everything that S.O.B. did to you. I had a helluva argument with myself to keep from kicking Herb's balls up his ass, but he might've killed you. He was on trial for murdering a woman ten years ago. Knowing the right people and the lack of real proof got him off Scot free. But I couldn't take a chance on him going off his rocker and killing you, because he hates women so much."
Helen relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, now that she knew the man above her was neither repulsive nor diseased. He was a man over whom she had often gotten wet panties from imagining how it would be if he fucked her.
"He left you high on the wall, didn't he, darling?"
"Y-yes."
The man's mouth covered hers once more. This time her tongue passed eagerly over and around his. Her hot, youthful nature began to renew its demands.
"I believe I can guess what a woman must suffer when she's teased and left unfucked. It must be the same nerve-tearing feeling a boy has when a cock teaser leaves him high and dry."
In the bright moonlight, her smile was an assurance. He groaned and plunged his mouth down over her firm-nippled left breast.
Her arms snapped around his neck, and she thrust up her body, trying to get all of her big breast into his mouth.
When he came up for air, he heard her whisper:
"Go on. Sock it to me. Fuck the hell out of me. I don't think I'll ever get enough cock-after tonight."
"Now, honey, you just forget that bastard. I came to take you away."
"Oh, not just yet. He's dead drunk. Make me ... make me come before we leave, huh?"
His arms went around her waist, raising her belly high to his mouth. His flicking tongue paused at her navel long enough to gouge and whirl, tickling her to a writhing, moiling frenzy.
Her belly bloated as his teeth nibbled down to the beginning of her pubic hedge. She felt herself go soft, growing more eager by the second for a cock to prod her..
She shrieked thinly when he found her girl-sized clitoris. She put a fist in her mouth to stifle the cries she knew were yet to come. She spread her legs as widely as she could, until their joints ached, and there she held them, trembling and eager to feel the short stubble of a man's shaven face.
The second time his tongue slipped into her, she arched up, writhing her pussy tightly to his nose. A blinding flash stunned her, a vortex in her mind, a rigidity of her body, the opening of her innermost self and the oozing of her honey shook her as a rag doll. Her hips sagged down to the sand, and she took her fist from her mouth to sigh deeply.
He rose to his knees and peeled off his shirt. He stood up and removed the rest of his clothing. He grinned down at the perspiring girl.
"How was that for a starter?"
"It helped, lover. But sock the meat to me now, huh?"
He sank once more to his knees before her redolent pussy. He leaned over her and rested his weight on one hand beside her as he grasped his cock and laid the head of it just within her long slit. He eased his chest down onto her breasts, slid his arms around her, and tightened his hips for the drive.
"This won't hurt but for a second or two."
He thought she was still a virgin.
Helen's giggle became a screech, for he slammed his upturned cock into her as hard as he could.
He lay lightly, full length upon her, unmoving for a long moment, because he didn't want to come too soon. Then he began a slow in-and-out pace, and, each time he was all the way in, he ground himself against her trigger.
"Hurry up. I'm so hot," she panted. Her legs flew up to surround him, and her heels beat a tattoo on his hips. "Faster!" she demanded, thrusting herself wildly up to him.
A buzzing sound coming from within her head deafened Helen. Her belly flexed and relaxed and flexed again. A keening sound came from her throat. He looked down at her moonlit face and saw that her swollen-lipped mouth gaped wide open, and she was gasping for air.
As he stared, her mouth snapped shut, a frown marred her smooth forehead. She trembled inside, and his cock was gripped hard. Her pussy snapped down his shaft, and then it slammed up with bruising force.
"Oh ... oh ... oh ... umf!"
She sighed and relaxed.
"You came already?" he asked.
"Go on. Don't stop now."
He hadn't stopped. He gritted his teeth from the effort of trying to delay his coming.
"Faster!" She became frenzied once more. "Oh ... oh ... ugh!"
"What? Again?"
"Y-yes. Go on. Oh, pour it to me."
Again her mouth fell open, and her tongue lolled from one corner.
Her internal muscular snapping started once more. He could no longer hold back. He groaned, throbbed, and spewed his hot seed with such force a grunt was driven from her. He thought he would never stop shooting.
She locked herself to him.
"So much! Oh ... oh ... wuh!"
He tried to keep on pumping, but the fires of youth had long ago died to flickering flames, and he shrank out of her.
"Oh, no! Not yet, Daddy. Please?"
Verne drew away from her grasping arms and legs. He sat back on his heels, staring at her still-writhing body.
Slowly his senses returned. His hair stood on end with terror when he realized he had just screwed his daughter.
If I had a gun, I'd shoot myself, he thought, and then the tears rolled down his cheeks.
Helen saw her father crying. She laid an arm around his neck, because she knew why he cried.
"It's not your fault, Daddy. It's because I was so hot and you wanted to help me." She leaned to whisper in his ear. "I've ... I've wanted you to fuck me for a long time."
He turned his misery distorted face away. Yes, she was right ... the reason why he had fucked her. But he had no right to such joy as he had felt while doing that terrible thing. Then he found the alibi he needed: She was not his natural daughter. He knew it was a thin excuse, but how else could he ever face Helen again?
"Was I ... was I good?" he heard her ask. He nodded.
"If I hadn't come out here with Mr. Spooner, and if you hadn't followed us, you wouldn't have gotten all fired up, Daddy."
"Why did you come with Spooner?"
Then she told Verne of how she had been trying to help his career.
"George Hamilton thought I'd best start with the guy up there in the cottage. Even if George hadn't helped me get started, I'd have found a way to help you, somehow."
"Damn that Hamilton! I've a notion to ... Never mind. It's over now, and you're to stay out of this rat race. That's an order, Helen."
"But I want to do my part."
"You'll be doing your part by staying home."
"Grandma might win if I do that. Hamilton said the boys want some fresh pussy."
"Then let your grandmother win. I'll not go into office by way of a bunch of politician riding ray daughter." He turned to face her. "Go in the house and get whatever you brought with you. I'm taking you back to the city."
"Good. I want to find out how Grandma's making out with her projects."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the capital city of the state, in a certain modestly furnished office, five grim men were gathered in a meeting of decision. They were the state executive committee of their party Allen Black, the chairman, was speaking:
"We've been hearing rumors about how George Hamilton's getting out of hand up there in Mason. What he's doing is giving our party a black eye. He's been told time after time to get with it, but he always winds up doing as he pleases. I move to dump George. How do you fellows vote? Let's have a show of hands."
All the men raised their right arms.
"We need something really rough to pin on George; otherwise, the boys could accuse us of dumping him for personal reasons, rather than for the good of the party," one of the men said.
Allen laughed.
"You know that old saying, 'give a cal enough rope and it'll hang itself? Well. . And if he doesn't, we can probably think of some way to help him out of the saddle, eh?"
The executive committee went on to other business.
Driving from the summer cottage, Verne laid a caressing hand on Helen's smooth leg.
"I don't think you should say anything to your mother about shacking with Spooner, nor about anything else that's happened tonight, Helen."
She moved lower on the car seat so that his hand cupped her pussy through her panties.
"I'll make a bargain with you, Daddy. If you make it happen for me again like you did tonight, Mama'll never know a thing."
"Blackmailer."
"Lover boy." She kissed his cheek. "Can't we find a place to screw? I'm still part way up the wall."
"There's a lane about a mile down the road. It's never used much, since the farm it leads to was abandoned years ago."
"Can't you step harder on the gas, Daddy?"
An hour later, Helen was finally satisfied for the evening, and she was grateful to Verne for calming her nerves. She glanced at the car clock when they were driving out of the lane onto the main highway. It was not yet midnight.
Verne was silent. He was accusing himself for that which nature had led him into. He would have to move out of the house, because the temptation to screw Helen over and over again would, he knew, grow because of his memories of tonight. She was a much better lay than was Vicki. He knew he was a weak man. He knew he could not resist the temptation of the red-haired sex pot.
So when they got home, Helen was yawning and bleary eyed, and Verne was gritting his teeth in self-anger, at his crime.
Helen went down the hall, directly to her bedroom, as Verne opened the door to the master bedroom.
There was only a glow of light from low on the wall where a tiny night light protruded from an electrical outlet. Verne silently closed the door, glanced over at the bed, and blinked. Surely there was more than one person in Victoria's twin bed. He stopped dead still.
The sounds of ragged breathing was louder, harsher, than for someone who was merely sleeping. Verne listened, disbelieving his ears.
"Faster!" he heard Victoria's breathless voice say.
In the shadows above the bed something heaved and lowered more quickly. Verne crept to the edge of the bed.
Now he could see the tangle of arms and legs, the kicking of feminine feet on the broad buttocks of a man. Vicki was getting fucked! Verne growled and reached for the fuckers. But the memory of what he had done this night stopped him. He felt he had lost his right to protest anything Victoria wanted to do.
"Oh, yes!" she squealed. "Whirl it! Whirl it!"
The bed groaned louder, faster. Verne bent low over the bed, but he couldn't recognize the man who was riding his wife, because the face was on the far side of hers. Neither could he recognize the heavy, hairy body, the thick arm that held Vicki up to him.
He heard the "sreep! sreep!" of toenails clawing the undersheet as the man strove for greater depth.
"Sock it to me!" Vicki quavered.
"That's it!" she hissed. "Harder. I'm nearly ... oh!"
A quickened confusion of bodies, and louder came the wet, smacking sounds of screwing. Verne's restraint was weakening fast.
A stillness overtook the bodies on the bed, and then the screwers moaned tiredly. The man drew back onto his haunches, and his face was dimly lighted by the night light.
"George!" Verne bellowed.
Victoria shrieked and rolled away from the man and out of her bed.
"Verne!" George gasped. Calmly, he said, as he clambered off the bed, "I thought you'd gone down to Columbus for the weekend."
Verne lunged at George. An iron-hard fist slammed his chest and stopped him.
"Damn you, Hamilton! Screwing Vicki behind my back. You old son of a bitch."
He glanced down at Hamilton's shrinking cock, and when he saw how it glistened with his wife's juices, Verne tried again to attack.
But Hamilton threw his thick arms around Verne. Despite being ten years older than Verne, he was the stronger of the two. He held Verne motionless.
"Calm down, Holmes. If you'd been feeding enough cock to Vicki she wouldn't have gone so strong for outside help." He shook Verne as if he were a dust rag. "And as ior me, you'd better think twice before you go off into orbit. Who's backing you for councilman? So if you want to make a project of this hosing session, be my guest, and then stay the hell away from me."
Verne managed to slide down, clear of Hamilton's bear hug. He came up from his knees and slammed a fist at George's face. As his punch missed its goal and his arm shot over George's shoulder, a feminine squeal came from behind him.
Helen had slipped into the bedroom.
"What're you doing here?" she asked Hamilton. Then she saw her mother cowering in the shadows beyond the bed. "Oh!"
Helen turned and ran back to her room.
"Well, I guess that tears it." George went for his pile of clothing that was heaped on a chair. "Stop by my office in the morning, Verne. We'll discuss things like two sensible men."
Verne stood still as a statue, watching, but not seeing Hamilton dress and leave the room. He was still standing there, when Victoria came and slipped an arm around him.
"I'm sorry, dear," she said, meaning she was sorry to have been caught. "It won't happen again."
Helen returned, fully dressed and looking grim.
"I'll spend the rest of the night with Grandma. You two should be alone. I can't ... can't stay here."
She ran sobbing out of the bedroom and out of the house. She didn't pause to telephone Alma. She blew her nose to rid it of the stink of recent fucking that had fouled the air in the master bedroom.
Alma was busy finishing a certain phase of her own campaign.
That morning she had met Benedict Fahl, leader of the third, the most populous ward of the city. If she could swing his influence among the voters to her side, Alma thought she would have the election in the bag.
As she sat in his comfortably furnished office, she stared over the desk at his heavy, symmetrical face, at his full, out-turned lips; and she glanced up past a high forehead to his shiny black hair. Then her gaze was held by his snapping, dark eyes. She looked at his thick fingers as they moved in emphasis to what he was saying. Brown is beautiful, black is in, her thoughts repeated the new slogans over and over.
"If you're free this evening, why not come to my apartment?" she said. "We can relax and settle the details of your proposition."By nine o'clock that night, Alma was pacing the floor. She was afraid Fahl would arrive, and she was afraid he wouldn't. He arrived at nine-thirty.
Two hours later, after she had drunk enough daiquiris to loosen up her tight inhibitions, she leaned, giggling, into Benny's embrace.
"Oh, Benny," she mumbled, "you're so manly. I want to...."
Her mouth was engulfed by his. She closed her eyes to the sight of a man whose skin was the shade of a ripe olive. She stiffened her arms, pushing against his chest. When a grasping hand slid down through the wide neck of her dress, she relaxed and sighed into his mouth.
Soon, she felt his hand warm on her knee, on her thigh above the stocking top; and then the fingers plucked at the wet crotch of her panties.
"Oh, Mr. Fahl! Please!"
"A couch is no place for a real fucking," he said, as he easily lifted and carried her into her bedroom.
Almost at once she was nude on her bed, blonde and pink and trembling. And he was grinning down at his prize as he stripped off his clothing.
Why, thought Alma, he's not much different from a white man, except for his brown, satin-smooth skin. Her pussy quivered, and she grew eager.
But when he held her legs bent high and widely apart, she looked down past her belly and saw him guiding his cock to her throbbing pussy ... then the years of prejudice intruded.
"No! I ... I can't go through with it." She tried to sit up, but he stabbed a thick finger deeply into her vagina. Her toes stiffened, and a quiver fluttered the rosy skin of her belly. "No!"
He wiggled his finger that was thick as a boy's peter.
"Sure you can, honey. I'll bet you go ape before we're through."
"No. I c-can't, Mr. Fahl."
He laughed and yanked his finger from her vagina. He laid the head of his peter at her entrance, and she held her breath.
"Sure you can. Let me show you."
He rammed into her until his heavy testicles slammed her flexing hips.
She yipped from the delightful pain of his thrust, and then she came to life around him. Soon, she lay inert above the waist. Below, she was a wild, hot, human sex machine that was as lively a piece of tail as any man could dream of.
"You're really turned on broad, baby," he panted.
Her full breasts grew fuller. Her nipples swelled almost to bursting. A vein throbbed in her throat. Her arms were tight around his thick neck, and her mouth was wide open in her flung-back head. Her tongue lolled from a corner of her mouth, and, whenever his teeth nipped her earlobe, her tongue flicked his sweaty shoulder. She moaned steadily. A yap was driven from her by the force of each climax. She didn't try to keep score tonight.
"Ummm, this is living!" muttered her fucker.
On and on, he plunged, beyond the place where she had ceased to come. Drowsy with fatigue, she protested weakly:
"That's enough. Oh, please stop."
But he speeded his drives, and now she heard the mucking sounds of their collisions.
"No more. No more," she panted, until his semen shot into her.
His thick, white seed brought her to a final happening.
Alma bit his shoulder. She screamed into his flesh. And then it happened to her for the final time. She was nearly shaken apart by the strength of her tremors.
At the end, she sighed, "Ahhhh," and collapsed flatly on the bed. She passed out, with a pleased grin lighting her face.
Benedict pulled his cock out of her, and it dragged through the pool of their juices on the undersheet as he knelt back onto his heels.
He glanced at the clock on the bedside table.
"One o'clock," he muttered. "Two hours on this old broad. Not bad."
He playfully slapped her sunken belly, drew the sheet up to her chin, and stood beside the bed, gazing at his latest ofay conquest.
The buzzer from the lobby door sounded. Fahl was frozen for but a moment, until his rapid thinking suggested a prank: Let whoever the visitor was come up and see him with Alma. He pressed the door release button and waited.
When Helen came into her grandmother's living room, she turned to shut the door. Benedict, peeping past the partly open bedroom door, said to himself, A redhead! The glimpse of Helen fired his imagination. He closed the door and sped across the room to unscrew the light bulb in the bedside lamp. Then he hopped back to the door. He opened it slowly and watched Helen coming toward him, knowing she couldn't see him in the darkened room.
As she came into the bedroom, he said, in an excellent imitation of Alma's voice:
"The bulb's burnt out, but you know where everything is."
He stood aside to close the door behind Helen.
Sniffing the natural, clean aroma of her body, he became turned on again.
"Oh, it's so dark. Where are...." Helen began.
Arms snapped around her. A broad mouth covered her own, and when she tried to scream, she was choked by Fahl's tongue.
Struggling to free herself, Helen's hand contacted a long, thick and throbbing peter.
"Oh, no!" she screamed, for she knew that she was about to be raped.
The cock prodded her buttocks as her attacker shoved her over to her grandmother's bed and flung her down onto her back. She struck out and tried to kick whoever would fuck her. He easily captured her wrists and held them as he whipped up her mini-skirt and snatched at her already dampening pussy.
"No!"
"Yes! Now hold still. There's worse things can happen to you than getting screwed." Still she struggled.
From his frenzy to fuck a redhead, Fahl slapped her to still her flailing legs.
Still Helen struggled, and he slapped her again.
During the shock of his slap, he stripped off her panties and kneed his way between her legs. When she felt his heavy scrotum slide over a thigh, she groaned. When the head of his peter poked at her swelling vulva, she screamed:
"Grandma! Help!"
Alma awakened to the surging of her bed and the anguished cry of Helen. She recognized Helen's voice at the same time she felt Fahl lowering his body onto that of the girl.
"Get off my grandaughter!"
"Go to hell."
"I'll call the police."
"So go ahead. You can't afford a scandal, so keep still, Alma."
"I won't!"
She beat her fists on his back and clawed at whatever of him she could reach. But she was too late.
"Eeeee ... ugh," Helen shrieked, when the thick cock rammed into her.
She kicked wildly in the air, her thighs sliding on his moving hips. But when he bottomed and she felt the slam of his big balls on her ass, she grunted and sprang up to meet his next drive.
"No! No! Take it out."
Benedict laughed and rode her hard and fast.
"Ummm," he hummed.
A redhead, he thought. Juicy as hell. Lively. Beginning to like it. Jesus, she was hot in there. A fireball! Ohhh, man!
Fast and steady he fucked her. He was good for a long time on this juicy doll.
"G-grandma," Helen quavered.
"Shhh, quiet. The neighbors will hear you."
Three thousand votes was the worth of Mr. Fahl to Alma. Besides, wasn't it time for Helen to be thoroughly screwed? Alma herself had had two years experience by the time she'd been Helen's age.
"Grandma?" the panting voice was weak.
Fahl slipped a hand beneath Helen's fanny. Suddenly he shoved a finger into her rectum, just as he bottomed in her once more.
"Oh ... oh ... oh."
Within Helen a flame burst into being, spread and seared her female organs. The flame had to be quenched.
"Yes!" she cried, kicking her heels on his bobbing ass.
She sprang avidly up and down on his shaft, and her muscles clenched him almost painfully tight.
"Wah!" he bawled, for her internal clenchings were bringing his lust to its peak.
He bleated like a ram as he felt his seed pouring from him, and when it lessened to spurtings of white fire, he panted his hot breath in her ear.
The heat and the force of his shots drove yips of ecstasy from Helen, for her body cared not a damn what man delighted it. She moaned long and low. Her breath caught on an intake. She felt as if she were being turned inside out, and out of her flowed nearly as much love as he gave to her.
Fahl got to his bare feet beside the bed. He stood for a moment, listening to the racking sobs of the girl he had just screwed.
"You were really something, doll. I thought Alma was great, but you ... wow! Just for that, I'll swing all the votes in my ward over to Alma. After all, business is business." Helen moaned.
"Go away!" she said. "Get out of here, you ... you bastard!"
He laughed over his shoulder when he left the Green apartment.
Helen flung an arm over her grandmother's body and sobbed against her naked breast.
"Now, now, don't cry, honey. It couldn't have been that bad."
But it was even worse. Helen knew that by her natural responses she had helped to steal votes from her darling daddy. Had she the strength, she would've left her grandmother's apartment at once. But six climaxes in one night was more than enough to weaken a woman, even a hot, young redhead. She fell asleep beside Alma, wondering who had screwed her so delightfully and if she could find him again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Verne was pacing the floor and frowning in Hamilton's reception room, when George arrived the next morning.
"So you're still peed off at me for laying Vicki last night, huh, Verne?"
"You're damned right. She's my wife, and I'll not hold still while you shaft her."
"So what's a piece of tail among friends? We have more important things to talk about."
"Some friend you are. You haven't a wife to swap, so you steal whichever pussy you get hot for. To hell with you, George Hamilton!"
Hamilton grabbed Verne's shirt front.
"Now see here, Holmes, you're dead in politics, unless I'm backing you." He shook Verne vigorously. "I had a phone call this morning from Benedict Fahl. He's gone over to Alma. I was counting on his third ward to swing the primary election to you. This business isn't a game. I'm calling a caucus at my house in a week so we can make some plans. You need me on your side now more than before Fahl went over to Alma. So stop bugging me about Vicki."
He gave Verne a final shake and let him slink from the office.
"Chicken!" George spat at the closed door. "I don't know how much longer I can hold still for that jackass."
The more he thought of Fahl declaring for Alma, the clearer he could see himself backing a losing candidate; and George wasn't the man to be on the losing side of any dispute. An idea came to him. He didn't think it a particularly good one, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. He went over to Elmer Frye's office.
Anne Frye was alone in the office, because Elmer had gone to the Holmes residence to lay Victoria once more.
"I have to see Elmer," Hamilton told Anne. "I have a proposition to offer him. I'll come back when he's here."
He turned to leave.
"Tell me," Anne said. "After all,T do have some influence with my husband."
She turned sideways on her chair behind the desk.
George blinked from seeing her magnificent legs momentarily separated, and from the glimpse of her naked pussy. He decided to tell her why he had come to see her husband. He stood at a strategic spot and stared at her now-closed legs.
"I wanted to see if there was some way he could refuse to certify Mrs. Green to the primary ballot." He glanced at Anne's pug-nosed face. "There would be a consideration for him, of course. I'm telling you this in confidence, Anne."
"Elmer isn't on the take, if that's what you mean."
"Oh, I know that. I was thinking I could give it to you."
"You could give what to me, Mr. Hamilton?"
"Money, Anne. What else could you want?"
Her dark eyes blazed with anger. She leaped from her chair and strode to the door. She held it open, and she growled:
"Get out, Hamilton. You're an insulting S.O.B. to think either Elmer or I would take a thing from you. Get out, I say!"
George's face flamed. Together with his annoyance at Verne, Anne's irritation drove his short temper beyond reason. A red haze of anger clouded his sight, and through the haze Anne looked too attractive to pass up. Besides, there was a good way to humiliate her. He seized her arm, slammed the door closed, and whirled her into his embrace.
"Get out! Let go of me! Get out, Hamil...."
His mouth crushed down over hers, and his tongue slid in. She bit down on his tongue, and George slapped her hard.
"Damn bitch!" he said, feeling his tongue swelling from her bite.
He clasped her struggling figure in his arms and arms and backed her to the office couch. When they were there, he turned and collapsed onto it. Anne was hauled, face down, across his lap.
Ignoring her cries, her kicking legs, he whisked up her skirt and stripped her panties down to her ankles. Thoroughly angered now, he proceeded to spank her.
Anne swore and beat the seat cushions. She could no longer kick, because her legs were shackled by her panties. Her face was flushed by anger and shame. A bump in his pants poked her belly each time she tried to writhe free. Still his broad hand smacked her plump hips. She tried to twist so that she could bite him, but her mouth was continually open to her cries of pain. Smack and whap and bap, his hand rose and slammed down on the reddening cheeks of her ass.
The heat of the spanking, the jiggling of her body on the bump in his lap, finally got to her. She felt her pussy grow moist and open. The swelling of her cuntal lips forced her legs as far apart as her restricting panties would let them spread.
George slid from under her, and he held her face down on the couch while he opened and lowered his pants and shorts.
"Get out of here! Let me up!" she bawled, as her clitoris quivered, but she knew he wasn't through with her.
He straddled her legs, slipped an arm around her thin waist, and hauled her up onto her knees and elbows.
"Damn you to hell!" she rasped, even as she clutched at the arm of the couch for at the arm of the couch for steadiness.
She moaned when he flicked the head of his cock up and down the slickened valley of her pussy.
"No! Oh, please don't, G-George."
He pressed gently to check his aim. Then his other arm went around her, and he drove into her as a beast, dog fashion.
She moaned and swore vengeance, even as her vagina was pleasantly filled with cock.
"Take it out! Don't, George! Stop, George!"
He drove the final two inches into her with a sudden movement.
"Geo-orge!" she screamed, and then she panted, "Oh, my heavens. Oh, Jesus!"
And then he really went to town.
She felt him swell and throb, even as her vagina flexed and pulsed. In and out, in and out he drove as hard and as fast as he could, driving a grunt from her with each collision. She could not stay the loving kisses her vagina gave his cock, nor could she stay the thrills that she felt when his big balls swung against her stiffened trigger. He groaned and speeded even more. He was almost there, and so was she. She seized the armrest of the couch in her teeth to keep from screaming loudly when she would come.
A brilliant light blinded Anne. Bells rang in her head. Her fanny reared back to her lover and her womb throbbed and flexed. She felt the hot lava of his semen spurting into her, and she was enveloped in a whirling sexual fog.
She but faintly heard the whispering sounds as he arranged his clothing. She lay face down on the couch, clawing at the seat cushions from the anguish of her humiliation.
The snap of the door latch as it closed brought her back to reality. She glowered at the closed door.
"I'll fix that son of a bitch," she growled, as she dried herself with her panties.
She staggered to the desk and flopped onto the chair behind it. She pulled the telephone to her and dialed a certain number in the capital city of the state.
"Allen Black, here," a familiar voice said.
"I have news for you, darling."
"Anne Frye! I hope it's good news, for a change. Did you call me up to set up another weekend date ... I hope?"
"Sure. But it'll have to be later in the fall. I'm too busy just now to get away for a shack job. What I called about is a character I believe should be drummed out of our party. He's giving it a bad image."
"It must be that Hamilton guy."
"You're so right. Don't tell me his notoriety has gotten all the way down there?"
"I'm afraid so. We should catch him red handed doing something that he shouldn't ... something really serious. Could you set up such a scene?"
"I think so. There'll be a caucus a week from Friday night at Hamilton's house. Here's my plan. See if you approve of it."
Anne was smiling when she dropped the telephone into its cradle.
Helen awakened alone in Alma's apartment. She didn't at first know why she felt so alive.
She lay, closed eyed and smiling, puzzled at her half-aroused desires. She slid a hand down over her pussy, and as she fingered her clitoris that was already erect, she recalled sketchy impressions of her royal fucking last night. She had to find that man again. Why, he had been almost as good as ... as Daddy!
She sprang from the bed, dressed, and left the apartment without even looking for her grandmother.
As she came near her home, she saw her mother enter an automible, but before she got to the car, Victoria was driven away by a man Helen didn't recognize. She had wanted to tell her mother of the thing that had happened to her last night. Now she felt as if something had been taken from her as she watched the car bearing Victoria round the next corner.
She went directly to her room and took off her clothes to bathe and wash off the dried perspiration from her lover of the night before. As she soaked in the bathtub that was full of scented water, she wondered if some of him was still inside her vagina, or if her body had totally absorbed him. She was sure his offering had been absorbed.
And so, after she was dry and went into her bedroom, she was singing softly and didn't hear Verne come to the open doorway to stand and grin and feel his peter swelling.
She turned to get something from a dresser drawer. From the corner of her eye, she saw Verne.
"Oh! You frightened me." Verne went all the way into the room, closing the door behind him. There was a gleam in his eyes that excited Helen.
"What do you want, Daddy?"
"You," he husked, as his arms went around her nude body.
She trembled and snuggled into his embrace.
"Mother might come home."
"Not for a while, I hope."
When he kissed her, she opened her mouth for his tongue. Her hand went between them, discovering the bump of his hardened cock. She murmured into his mouth and held the kiss as she undressed him.
Moving closely together to her bed, her body undulated hard against his. By the time she was on her back, spread widely and waiting to be screwed, they were panting at each other.
He kissed down her cheek, over her chin, her throat, and he nibbled greedily first one nipple and then the other.
"Hurry up, Daddy."
"Umf," he grunted, as his flicking tongue waggled back and forth along her belly.
His fingers parted her fur, and her knees went up. Her legs fell apart, and her pussy was pushed up to the lips of its lover.
The hands that stroked her belly were firm and pressing, rolling the smooth skin as they moved. His lips teased the inner ones that swelled from her pussy, and she moaned. Her hands at the back of his head urged his face into the sweet wetness of her pussy.
"Suck me good, Daddy-o. Oh! Oh, yesss."
She squirmed and writhed, and her little belly grew taut and vibrating. His hands were on her breasts, flexing, kneading sounds of pleasure from her halfway opened mouth.
A sound from somewhere in the house was barely heard, but then it sounded again, louder this time.
"Vicki, where are you?"
Helen gasped and heaved Verne from between her legs.
"Vicki, are you home?"
"It's Uncle George," Helen gasped.
"Damn him to hell," growled Verne.
He leaped from the bed, snatched up his clothing, and ran to hide in Helen's clothes closet.
She lay still, not knowing what to do. She was a beautiful sight to Hamilton's surprised gaze when he opened the door and saw her there, spread on the bed as if she were waiting for him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
George leered at Helen as he stalked slowly to the bed. His glance flicked up and down her healthy young body, and his sight fastened on her big, erect-nippled breasts that were heaving with each breath.
When his legs touched the side of her bed, he stopped.
She started to rise, but George's left hand pushed her back. She stared, as if hypnotized, at the hand that lowered his zipper.
"No, Uncle George. Please don't."
He chuckled, and her eyes widened when his pants and shorts fell and his firming cock was revealed. It shined within its greasy coating and waggled as it throbbed. "No, Uncle George."
"You're ready for screwing. What were you doing, warming yourself up?"
"Please don't."
She glanced toward the closet where Verne was hiding, but she couldn't reveal her father's shame.
George took a knee in each hand, spread her legs, and crawled on his knees up between them.
"No! Oh, please don't."
"Come off it, Helen. You went all out for it each time we've done it before."
"We've never done it."
She glanced again at the closet.
Within the closet Verne trembled behind her dresses.
"You must be off your rocker, darling," George said, "if you really can't remember how many times we've fucked. It must've been seven or eight; I've forgotten exactly how many times it's been."
She tried feebly to free her legs from his grasp. But she was hot and felt the heat of his meat as it neared her swollen snatch. When his cock head poked blindly at her slit, she gasped and wiggled for perfect alignment. "You're going to rape me?"
"Rape, hell. You're hot to trot. Hold still for a second.
"Please don't make me do it."
"Then get with it."
"No! I ... I can't."
He slammed his cock into her. Her breath caught, and her body surged up around him. She gasped when his big testicles slammed the cheeks of her ass.
She moaned and turned her face away from the closet. She couldn't let her father see the ecstasy she knew her face would soon reflect.
George plunged steadily in and out. He let go of her knees. Her legs rose high and wide, her heels wobbling in the air. Her arms moved restlessly until they went around his neck.
Within the closet, Verne ground his teeth, but despite his rage, seeing Helen getting fucked was terribly exciting. His right hand surrounded his rock-hard cock, and he began to masturbate.
Helen forgot the witness in the closet. Her body was sending sensations to her mind that made thought impossible.
"Yesss. Yesss. Yesss," she hissed, as he deeply drilled her.
"Oh, damn, but you're a good screw. Oh, Jesus. So young and tender and hotter'n hell," Hamilton mumbled.
His thrusts increased in tempo and in power.
Helen's breaths whistled raggedly through her half-open mouth. Her arms tightened around George's thick neck. She arched her belly up to his to feel his graying hairs tickle her navel.
From the closet, Verne watched his daughter hug her lover tightly. He saw the many quick kisses she gave to his chin and throat. He heard her moan and saw her arch up beneath George's naked belly. When he saw her perfect legs clamp over George's back, and watched her hands claw his shirt and undershirt up to Hamilton's armpits, his masturbating hand flew back and forth.
George bore hard and deeply into Helen. He stayed there as he groaned and trembled. Her clasping vagina throbbed, and his cock spewed out his semen.
"Ungh!" Helen grunted, when the first spurt flamed straight into her womb.
Again she grunted, and then she sighed and sighed again. Her belly corded and swelled, corded and flexed, as though a bellows were pumping his seed from his testicles.
"Oh! Oh!" she barked, when she felt each hot strike her cervix with decreasing power, hen came a long, shuddering sigh. She covered his face with quick, pecking kisses, and er calves were mashed flat where they were tossed over his back.
For a short moment, her passion-ugly face was revealed to Verne. His hand tightened round his cock, and he came with a long, urging ejaculation. He starched the organdy skirt of the formal gown Helen had worn to her high school graduation last June.
Again and again Verne spouted. From the strained, tense look of Hamilton's profile, he knew Helen was being pumped full of George's boiling seed. Verne leaned against the back wall of the closet. Through the lifting fog of dying lust, he watched Hamilton kiss Helen, and he saw how hard her mouth mashed up to her lover's lips in a return kiss. He leaned, shaky legged, hardly seeing George's cock sliding out of the girl, hardly seeing him stuff his shrinking cock and balls into his pants, zip up and leave the bedroom.
But Verne heard George say:
"Thanks, darling. You're a grade-A lay."
"Goddamn you, Uncle George," Helen said.
She glanced a final time at the closet, then sprang off her bed and dashed into the bathroom.
Verne came from the closet, dressed, and tore out of the house. He drove rapidly to Hamilton's office.
"Is George here yet?" he asked Hamilton's secretary.
"Just got here. Shall I announce you?" she said.
He growled at her and strode into George's inner sanctum.
He lunged over the desk, and he, Hamilton, and the desk chair became an entangled mass of confusion on the floor.
Verne struck out, blind with rage. His fist slammed George's left eye.
George swung in self-defense and missed.
They struggled to their feet and now, because George was the larger, Verne had to be more cautious. He tried an old-fashioned uppercut, but George drew back his head. He swung at Verne and caught him a glancing blow to his belly. With the breath knocked out of him for a moment, Verne doubled as if in pain and butted his head with all his power into George's mid-section. Hamilton gasped, turned and fell. He seized Verne's arms, and together they went to the floor, swearing loudly at each other.
Miss Hall, George's prim secretary, ran into his office. She stared with astonishment for a few seconds, and then she leaped back to her own office and collapsed onto her chair.
From behind her came the sounds of a struggle, the smack of flesh on flesh, an obscene oath, loud gruntings, and the kicking of feet on the floor. She reached for the telephone to call the police. But she thought of the consequences and decided against calling in the cops.
She found herself thrilling to the sounds of men fighting. As she scrootched around on her chair, she sighed and smiled.
"Boys will be boys," she told her cluttered desk top.
Hamilton's weight and size were in his favor. Verne tired of the struggle first, and George got a hammerlock on his right arm. Verne screamed from the pain and dropped to his knees.
George eased his hold.
"Listen, chicken, whatever she told you, I didn't rape Helen. We've done it before, and she was hot for wanting to get fucked. Hell, all women say 'no,' because that's their nature. It's time you grew up, Holmes."
He unzipped his pants, let them fall, and he sank onto the office couch without releasing his twisting hold of Verne's arm.
"I've fucked most of your family, Verne. Hell, I might as well make it unanimous." He forced Verne to his knees on the floor. "Open your mouth and take it like a man."
"No! Not that! P-please, no, G-George." George gave Verne's arm another twist. "Stop blubbering and get busy." Verne whined and swore, but he obeyed Hamilton.
Miss Hall was alarmed at the sudden quiet. She moved to the door and peeked into the inner office. Her gasp was loud, and George looked out past Verne's bobbing head. He winked at the gray-haired, round-faced woman.
"Oh! Oh, my!" she breathed, then turned and shut the door before she fainted.
Elmer Frye and Victoria arrived at Elmer's office a half hour after Hamilton had gone.
Anne's eyes were blazing with anger. Before Elmer could ask a question, she blurted: "Damn that bastard! Oh, damn him!"
"Who?"
Then she told both Elmer and Victoria of her rape by Hamilton.
"The worst of it was, he rode me as if I were a bitch dog. I'll get even with him, somehow."
"Let me help you," Victoria volunteered. "For years he's made me do whatever crummy trick he could think of. He said I was helping Verne. But lately he won't have anything to do with me. I won't be treated that way."
"Are you sure you're not just saying that?" Anne asked.
"I swear I'm not. I meant every word I've said. After he got me used to liking him to fuck me, then he abandons me. Who wouldn't be pissed off?"
"I've invited the state executive committee to your party's caucus. I had to promise them I'd see what could be done about framing Hamilton, because they want him out of your party. I don't think it would be good for the wife of the county election supervisor to attend the caucus. It might look as though Elmer and I were leaning our weight to Verne or Alma.
"You can help get rid of George, Vicki ... you and Verne, if Verne'll go along with the deal. He might even have an idea as to how it could be done. Are you with me?"
"Believe me, I'll talk to Verne tonight. Nobody slights Victoria and gets away with it."
"Whatever you do, see that it's permanent," Elmer said. "That guy has bugged me for years. He's gotten the idea he's king of the mountain."
When they were alone at home that evening, Victoria casually mentioned to Verne that rumors had it that George was somewhat less than a popularity prize winner.
"I hate the son of a bitch," Verne growled. "The worst that could happen to him would be too good."
"Why, Verne! Why the sudden change? You used to be George's boy all the way down the line."
"Never mind what happened. Let's just say I've seen the light."
So Victoria suggested a beautiful frame for George.
Verne thought for a long moment, and then he grinned.
"Let me take care of it. Nothing could get me higher than to even things up with old George."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The caucus changed from a political meeting into a party which included Victoria and Helen, both of the Fryes, whom Allen Black had invited by telephone.
"Do you have the skids greased for Hamilton?" Allen asked Anne Frye.
"Verne's attending to that. I didn't think Elmer and I, as election officials, should come to the meeting. That's why I asked Verne to take over."
"How is it to be done?"
"I don't know."
Allen kissed her hard, and, as they were pressed together, his hand explored, finding her pussy moist and ready. She found him firm and throbbing.
"Oh, Allen, I can hardly wait. It's been so long since you've screwed me. But let's join the party for a while."
Hamilton's pretty young housekeeper was handing tiny glasses of Benedictine to the women and larger glasses of a rare tokay wine to the men.
"What the hell is this stuff?" Olive Castle-berry asked one of the two men who had arrived with Allen Black.
When he told her, he added:
"I don't know why Hamilton's passing this stuff and the wine around instead of cocktails. George has been acting as if he's blowing his mind."
Olive poured her drink into a toilet. Allen hid his behind a cannister on the kitchen sink. The rest of the guests drank their drinks.
Verne went to where George's jacket was hanging and stuffed a white, well-filled envelope into the inside pocket. An aroma as of newly mown hay came faintly from the envelope, so he thought he should tell Allen of what he had done before George might discover the packet.
"Let's finish the party before we expose him," Allen said, hoping for an opportunity to pour the peter to Anne Frye.
Verne was the first to complain of the slightly bitter taste of the wine.
"Your imagination, Holmes. Or an aftertaste of something you ate," George told him.
Victoria also noticed a peculiar taste, but she swallowed her tiny glassful of Benedictine at one gulp.
Soon she noticed a sensation as if she were walking just above the carpet. Then she was happy in a silly sort of way. She floated, and her head buzzed with disconnected sentences, with strange music. She smelled odd odors as of crotch scents of rampant males.
She smiled, and her eyes glittered as they darted here and there, from man to man, never looking above their belt buckles.
She looked around for Verne and Helen and saw her mother and her daughter grinning foolishly at each other. She watched Alma grab the crotch of Phillip Harley, the third candidate. She saw Helen plaster herself to Elmer Frye, and she watched him raise Helen's skirt and forage among the girl's pubic hairs.
"Have fun!" Victoria shouted.
She grabbed for, and missed, the first man who passed near her.
There came to Victoria a feeling of utter freedom, an urge to do something daring. She saw Verne. She seized his fly, yanked down his zipper, tripped him and managed to fall beneath him, as she said loudly:
"Screw me, stud. Pour the peter to me."
Verne fucked his wife on Hamilton's living room floor. The guests applauded and chanted:
"In and out, round about. Hubba! Hubba! Hubba!"
Neither Victoria nor Verne slowed their mating.
When they had finished, Victoria got to her feet, shook down her skirt and giggled. She had never felt so loose and free.
"Yeah, man!" she hollered, and then she searched for another man.
"What're you going to do, I hope?" Helen giggled, when a laughing man seized her from behind.
"I'll show you," he said, swinging her up and stumbling into a bedroom.
Although her head was whirling, she recalled the night of her unidentified lover. Maybe he was this man-Elmer Frye.
Each undressed frantically, and when Elmer crawled onto the bed, Helen was spread and impatiently waiting.
She held her pussy open as he guided and aimed his doorknob-headed cock dead center.
Now. Now she would know if this was the man who had screwed her in her grandmother's bed.
Elmer lunged and fell forward onto her big, solid breasts, resting most of his weight on his elbows.
She was popped wide open at his entry. The hiss of air that was driven from her vagina matched her hiss of shocked delight.
"Oh! So b-big. Ohhh. Sock it to me, all the way."
She grunted when he bottomed, and she sprang up to meet each of his thrusts. Her pussy clung to him. Every tiny wrinkle in her vagina was ironed smooth with each hard invasion.
This was not the same man who had raped her. She would have to try more men. Oh, goody!
Elmer rode her hard, and her legs waved above his back.
"Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Harder!" she breathed, as she slammed up to meet his descent.
"Harder!" She almost choked him in her clasping arms. "Faster!" She covered his face with noisy kisses. "There! Right there. Whirl it ... ohhhh!"
The sudden spasms of a hard climax wrenched her head up off the pillow.
"Unghh. Oh! Oh! Oh! ... Ahhh!" Her head sank and tilted far back as she felt the strain of her coming. Her eyes were veiled. Her mouth was partly open. "Here I am," she gasped.
She trembled and gripped him hard with her inner muscles. Her whole body jumped, and then her legs and arms fell from around him.
When he pulled out of her, he laughed at the wet pop of their parting, but he sobered, when she said:
"Send in another guy to finish me off."
Elmer was angered because he thought Helen had insulted him. He couldn't know how hot she was. So he sent Herb Spooner into the bedroom.
Helen squealed and drew the sheet up to her chin. She watched in wide-eyed fear Herb's undressing. She remembered the night when she and Verne had left Herb drunk in the summer cottage. She was so frightened he easily pulled the sheet from her clutch and tossed it down beyond her feet.
"No," she whispered.
But when he leered at her and rested a broad hand on her belly, she whimpered and felt the lubrication flow out of her quiff.
He held her wrists with one hand. He took a nipple in his teeth and teased it. He kissed down her belly, and his tongue tortured her navel. When he separated her pubic hairs, he found her clitoris stiff and throbbing.
"Damn, but you're a good-looking cunt. For two cents I'd go ahead and fuck you."
But his mouth teased her pussy lips, and his tongue brought her to the verge of coming.
When her belly was heaving and she moved up and down in invitation, he stopped and looked up at her hooded eyes.
"You need it, don't you?"
"No! ... Yes. Fuck me now."
He laughed and sat back on his heels between her restless legs.
Surely this wasn't the man who had been in Alma's apartment that night. Helen wanted to know, and yet she didn't want any part of Spooner. But she was hot as hell. Any screw was better than none.
Despite his hatred of women, Herb was turned on tonight. For some reason he wanted to screw this red-haired young beauty.
He moved back to Helen. He held his firming cock like a lance as he aimed it at her vulva. Nearer to her he leaned, and her legs went up and around him, drawing him closer. At the instant when the head of his dick parted her inner lips, he stiffened and stopped moving.
"No! I can't." He couldn't stick his precious cock into a filthy cunt, and to him they all were filthy. "No."
He tried to back away, but Helen had had it. She'd be denied no longer.
"Yes!"
She heaved up, and her powerful young legs kept him from backing away. He was tightly enveloped, and she was gliding up and down his peter.
He groaned and tried feebly to pull out, but she held him until he moved as she directed. She whipped her arms around his neck and murmured into his ear.
This was not the man who had so nicely raped her in Alma's apartment. But a cock is a cock is a cock.
"Faster, Herb. Turn me on all the way."
He didn't want to enjoy what she was making him do, but the sensation of her gripping snatch was out of this world.
Benedict Fahl had seen Spooner go into the bedroom into which he had seen Elmer carry Helen.
"Goddamn! Two of 'em, one at a time." What he did in private wasn't what he would do here in public. He had to overcome his desire to screw Helen tonight.
Because they were light headed and full of party spirit, Verne and Alma were humping in another bedroom. As they screwed, they watched John Simpson pouring the meat to Victoria on the other twin bed. Verne was surprised that he could so calmly fuck his mother-in-law and watch a man laying his wife. Had he not been so high, he would've been knocking the hell out of John. Politics does make strange bedfellows, he thought, as Alma gasped beneath him and her pussy sucked at his cock.
Allen and Elmer heard a feminine scream sound from the kitchen. They ran together and burst into the room as one alarmed unit.
George stood facing the table with his back toward the door. Protruding to either side of his naked hips was a kicking, womanly leg. He held those legs by their knees, and at the instant Allen and Herb rushed into the kitchen, he drove his hips forward.
Another, a fainter scream, came from the woman who lay flat on the table.
"Take it out, damn you!" she quavered. "Please don't fuck me. No, George! No!"
And when he swung into and out of her, she yelled for help.
Allen grabbed one of George's arms, and Elmer grabbed the other. They yanked him out of Anne and slammed him against the wall.
"Let go of me!" George said. "Get the hell out of my house."
Elmer glanced over his shoulder to where his wife was resting on her elbows on the kitchen table. Her skirt lay high on her belly, and her pussy was shiny with juice. She had become turned on, even though she was being forced to fuck.
Her shapely legs were sprawled as they had fallen from Hamilton's hands.
George struggled and almost freed himself, but Allen noticed George's stiff and gleaming peter sticking straight out. He gave a quick karate chop to the peter, and George doubled and screamed from the pain.
"Hold him, Elmer, while I get Holmes. He's a justice of the peace, and he can arrest George, whether this house is in his jurisdiction or not."
"You should be a witness while I find the pot in Hamilton's pocket," he told Verne.
They went to where George's coat still hung.
He plunged his hand into a wrong pocket, a side pocket.
"What's this stuff?" he asked, as he drew out a small bottle half full of a pale liquid.
He held it up to the light. He unscrewed the cap from the bottle and found it was attached to a glass applicator.
He cautiously tasted the bitter liquid.
"I'll be damned! This stuff is LSD, as sure as I'm a foot high. Hell, that's more powerful than the pot. Arrest Hamilton for possession of a dangerous drug."
Verne's head buzzed, and then he realized why the bottle wasn't full.
"So that's why our wine tasted so bitter. The S.O.B. put some of that stuff in our drinks. I'll turn him over to the criminal court."
Later that night, after the effects of the LSD had worn off, after the Holmeses had gotten home, Victoria said to Helen:
"Since your grandmother has decided to drop out of the race, it looks like Daddy'll be a shoo-in candidate. I hope he appreciates how much we've helped him."
Helen rubbed her sore pussy.
"I hope Daddy never wants to run for governor. We would be screwed to death before he got on the ballot."
Victoria laughed.
"I know what you mean." She winked at her daughter. "Although, I sort of hope he'll run for state senator someday."
