"Glory be to God for dappled things," Mark Hopkins said, reaching out a reverent finger to touch the naked, freckled thigh of the big, luscious girl graduate student.
"Have they revived Him?" She was standing beside the bed, having disrobed casually, but with a considerable degree of talent, baring her big Greek-goddess form artfully, telling Mark with her actions that she knew her assets and was rather proud of them.
"You are one hell of a big girl," Mark said, putting his arms around her hips. He wrapped her close and pressed his cheek into the warm, fragrant hair above her prominent pubic mound. She had used a subtle perfume there. The smell of girl and scent was exciting. Not that he needed any further stimulation. The mere sight of her, big, tall, blonde and delightfully freckled was enough to cause every cell of erectile tissue in his seven-acre body to swell with frenzied haste. He'd had his eyes on her for two years, while she was working on her master's degree in social economics, sitting in his class with her big, beautiful legs crossed, eyeing him in a knowing way.
There was, to Mark, something quite nice about embracing a woman at the hips. There was a big, bundlesome feel to her as his arms wrapped around her tightly, his palms resting on the hard-soft protrusion of her hip bones, his nose buried in that fragrant hair. In a way, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head far below hers, her face tilted down looking at him, his nose close to the heated source of the sweet woman smell which mixed with her perfume, it was as if he were paying homage to her-not debasing himself before her, for he was male supreme all the way, but offering her, for a moment, the tribute which such beauty, such richness, such wonder deserved. Mark didn't know of a thing in the whole screwed-up world which even came close to a woman for sheer beauty. He could get goose pimples looking at a sunset or reading the old Welsliman, Hopkins, the beautiful one with the same surname his papa had put on him, or Emily Dickinson or old Shakespeare. He could cry at beauty in nature, tears coming to his eyes with the intensity of feeling, a feeling perhaps influenced by the sad fact that there wasn't a hell of a lot of nature left except human nature, which seemed to be concentrated on fornicating and breeding; good old man determined to breed himself into extinction-if the increase in pollution of the atmosphere didn't do it first by killing off everything which breathed oxygen-if poisons poured into the water table didn't kill off all the little oxygen producing plants in the ocean, leaving the man gasping without air to breath, like a fish out of water-if-
He stopped that line of thinking. He looked up at Dinah's smiling face. "You look funny," she said softly. "And quite serious."
"This is quite a serious matter," Mark said. He let his hands flow over the rounded, smooth curves of rump and thigh. She shivered.
"Why serious?" she asked. "I'd think it would be termed fun or happy or naughty, but not serious."
"Nothing is more seriously important to me," Mark said, letting his lips brush her taut, smooth skin just above the line of pubic hair.
"You're more than just a sensualist," she said.
"Am I?"
"Of course. If you weren't, I wouldn't be here." His lips were kissing her stomach wetly and the heat from the contact sent little waves of delight throughout her body. "I saw more than that in you, Mark. Sitting in your classes, listening to you talk, I heard and saw more than that. I saw someone with whom I thought I could emphathize, a mind which I respected."
"Shall I show you which part of the mind I respect most?" He stopped kissing her stomach. She leaned forward, waiting to reestablish the contact.
"Do," she said.
He stood, his arms climbing her big, healthy body as if she were a tree, his hands knowing the delicate curve of her spine, the little indentation at the base of it, just above the outflow of her womanly rump. He put one hand, a big, strong hand, on the nape of her neck, pressed her face into his, wet her mouth with his. Then he guided her tenderly, carefully, almost reverently to sit on the side of the bed, knees together, eyes closed, lips pouted upward to take a pecking kiss from him. He pushed her backward until she was lying on the bed with her long, freckled legs hanging off, feet just above the deep pile of the carpet.
"What has that to do with my mind?" she asked, smiling musingly, eyes closed as his hand touched and caressed her stomach, her hips, her thighs.
He didn't answer. He lifted her legs, bent her knees, placed her heels, wide apart, on the edge of the bed. He knelt on the floor.
He admired the view. Her thighs wide apart, firm thighs cocked up, lovely, long thighs like smooth pillars of love, exposing the black-brown-finely-soft gential area. Curled hair thicker above the clitoris on the mound, curled over the beginning of the crease in which hid the center of her sensitivity, lying wetted in the brown tinted smooth crease beside her rather large labia, feathering out into the creases of her crotch. A funny, brown, soft-looking area around her anus, which showed exposed a tiny rose of color. But his eyes stayed on the labia, moist, clean but moist, which told him of her passion. They were large. He reached out. His fingers pulled and pushed. He felt her heat and her wetness. The labia pulled aside and showed the red-white inner portions of her pussy, soft skin wet and sleek. The actual entrance to her vagina was closed, a red-rose, iris-like opening, closed like the apeture-setting mechanism of a fine camera but ready to open when hard flesh penetrated.
Looking up her body, he could see the flat plane of her stomach, the mounds of her breasts, with nipples pointing outward. For a few moments longer he looked.
"Do you like the view?" she asked.
"I'll show you how much," he said, his voice deep. He leaned forward slowly. She knew what he was going to do and her breath made an expectant gasp. Close, he could smell the sweet, clean smell of pussy. He opened his mouth wide. He wanted all of it at once. He let his lips cover her from clitoris to perineum. He heard her breath rush out in a long, moaning sigh. He plunged his tongue out and pushed the tip of it into the iris-like opening. She had a somewhat spicy taste, clean, young. The outpourings of her glands, preparing, lubricating the tender flesh, was a slick, sensuous feel-taste under his lips and tongue.
"I'm disappointed," she said, but her voice was hoarse with passion, too. "If that's the part of my mind you like best it doesn't say much for the rest of me, because that part of me often leads me astray."
"This is the part of you I like best," Mark said. "I wouldn't trade the most intelligent mind of the world for it. I wouldn't trade a castle in Spain and a private apartment in the heart of New York and a new flyer for it." He was talking with hair in his teeth, his voice muffled.
"You are a sensualist, then," she said. "Aren't you?"
"With my pussy feeling your kiss? How could I not be?"
"Then let's quit being intellectual and concentrate on the matter at hand, shall we?"
"The overall matter? If that's what you mean it's called screwing," she said. "But if you mean we should concentrate on the act of the moment, which you do beautifully, by the way, then it's called various things. I prefer oral intercourse, although that's so stuffy. The hotter I get the more I'm inclined to call it things like sucking or blowing. But I guess, when you do it like that-" He was using his teeth to tease the labia, punish the clitoris, wet her from tip to tip of the slit, "-it can be called nothing but, well, I'm thinking this. I'm thinking: he's chewing my pussy."
The sound of the words sent a new surge of lust through Mark. He let his tongue slip low, felt the strange, smooth, brown area of the pudendum, the area between the bottom of her pussy and the little brown rose of her anus. He licked it with his rough tongue. She wiggled her hips. He kissed the rose of her anus. She squirmed.
"Don't do that," she said.
"You don't like it?"
"Well-"
"Because you think it is a dirty place?"
"Well, yes."
"No part of you is dirty, girl." He kissed the little rose. She lay still. He moved back, licked his tongue broadly across the entire pussy opening, tongued the clitoris, moved up her body chewing little love bites of her stomach, her big, firm breasts.
"I hope you're going to screw me now," she whispered, "because if you don't you're going to waste me."
"Since you put it that way-"
His rod was pushing into the thoroughly wet area. He continued to crawl up her body and the head of it touched the wet, slick lips, slid into the softness, the beautiful heat, of the vulva, punched against the frail little pulpy guardians of the vagina.
"Mark!" she gasped, as she threw her big, healthy, strong hips into a movement which made him penetrate suddenly to the extent of about two-thirds of its seven-inch length. "Oh, Mark!" And the following movement, combined with his push, seated him deeply inside the squeezing confines, let him know the long-sliding feeling of entry and the heat and the intimacy of the warm interior of her. "Oh, oh, oh," she moaned, as he hit her three times quickly, felt the heat rise up in him, felt the sweet agony of pre-ejaculation grow in him.
"I'm going to be so damned quick," he said.
"Good!" She screwed her loins around and up at him, squeezed his tool with her muscles. "I'm going to be quick, too."
He wiggled his hips, not pulling out, but leaving it deeply inside her, moving his pelvic hardness against hers, bending his tool up to press the big, thick, hard base of it against her clitoris.
"Now," she cried out, her voice strong in the quietness of the room. "Hit me long and hard!"
He withdrew. He knew he was good for only two or three long, sensuous strokes into the velvet of her. He gave himself up to his passion, however, knowing that the evening was young, knowing that if he did, perchance, leave her hanging that he could finish her with his mouth and then make it turn into a long, loving session with his second wind, which was good enough to keep him screwing for hours, if necessary.
He threw his body, and it was a big, strong body, into hers. He buried his rod into her softness, her heat, to the hilt. He heard her moan. He withdrew, taking the head of it all but out of the fleshy opening, threw it deep again, a long, slow, straining slide. He felt it begin back inside him, the sweet burning preliminary to coming.
"Ah, Mark!" she moaned, as he buried it, held it deep for a moment. "Ah! I'm coming! I'm coming! Oh! Feel?"
And inside her a soft-storm broke, vagina spasming with her sensation. "Feel?" she asked, as the tightness sent an overwhelming sure of desire through him. "Feel me come?"
He felt. He felt the vagina spasm, contract, relax, contract, relax, contract. He heard her moaning. He closed her mouth with his and let his almost-coming rod rest deep, moving his hips in circles without withdrawing to keep pressure and sensation on her clitoris. Her throbbings grew weaker.
"Come," she whispered. "You come, darling. Come in me!"
That was all the encouragement he needed. He withdrew, far out, taking the head of his penis all the way out, leaving it poised, touching, at the gate to heaven. He leaned into it, slowly, slowly, letting it push past the little opening into the smooth-walled tube, deep. He felt a last, faint throb.
"Come in me!" she whispered. "Let me feel you come!"
Twice, three times, faster, faster. The last, the third stroke a swimming through stars and wonder as it began and crawled up the long passageway to the tip of his swelling penis and then burst and the sweet, manly jetting of come into her set her off again, moaning, crying, fingernails tearing and making sensations on his back, her coming again even as he came, making her throbs, miraculously, match the interval of his ejaculation so that prick would swell and send a hard jet of hotness into her and then vagina would contract and squeeze and relax just as prick swelled again and he heard his voice making a strangled, moaning sound as they flashed and boomed and soared and then sank down quietly to lie, big male body on big female body, female soaking up inside the rushing outflow of his come.
Much later, with his lovely-feeling rod half-soft but still pushed into the hot, slick confines of her resting flesh, she sighed. "Would you say, Professor Hopkins, that we are good together?"
"I would say, Miss Russell, that we are beautiful together," he said, kissing her lips lightly.
"For a first time, I'd say it's phenomenal."
"Only to be expected from two such talents," he said lightly.
She was silent for a long time, lingering between dozing and thinking in a warm, hazy way. He was heavy atop her, but pleasantly heavy. He gave her a feeling of security, his leg thrown off hers, his half-soft tool in her, his head on her shoulder.
"Did you want me a long time, Mark?" she asked.
"I wanted you the first time I saw you," he said. "Two years ago when you enrolled in my class."
"So long?" She sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's frowned upon, Miss Russell."
"Oh, pooh."
"Having orgasm in female coed bodies is prohibited to professors," Mark said.
"I'm glad you just had an orgasm in mine," Dinah said, moving her hips suggestively, as a faint trickle of desire came back to her.
"It will not be the last one," he promised, feeling a faint stirring himself as she moved liquidly under him.
"Like for me to do for you what you did for me?" she asked.
"I'd love it."
"Get off me, then.
He rolled off onto his back. His penis was limp. It fell wetly against his thigh. She sat up, leaned on one elbow, took it between thumb and finger and shook it back and forth, but gently. She knew that he had tender feelings there.
"I'll get a towel," he offered, thinking that she hesitated because of the gleam of love juices.
"No," she said. She moved, falling, swooping down like a bird of prey to tear gently at the soft head with little white teeth. She teased it, feelings cascading through him. Before it could get hard, however, she sucked it into her mouth as far as it would go. "I'm eating you," she said, coming up for air for only a moment.
"What a fate," he whispered.
He grew hard rapidly and his tool pushed itself out of her mouth. She let the soft-hard glans push against the back of her throat, sucked. She licked the length of it with the broad part of her tongue.
"Sorry it was so messy," he said.
"It's only me," she whispered. "And you. We taste like starch."
"Ugg," he said.
She climbed his body, thrust her mouth to his before he realized what she was doing. She took a wet mouthful of him, tongue working. He tasted it. Starch and a bit of stingy tang which he didn't like. Her, he had tasted. So the taste he didn't like must be his come. He wanted to spit. But she laughed and kissed him wetly and looked down with her long, blonde hair hanging with her eyes warm and smiling.
"Taste?"
"Bleh," he said.
"See what I go through for you?" she teased. "You'll be rewarded."
"How?" She was kneeling over him now, her long hair beautiful, her breasts hanging, her wet pussy on his thighs, his rod sticking up in front of her stomach.
"With this," he said, moving his body, lifting her at the same time with his hands on her soft hips. He positioned her over his hardness and lowered her. She let her weight down, impaling herself, kneeling on his red. She closed her eyes, threw her head back, a deep moan of ecstasy coming from her lips. He put his hands up and squeezed her nipples between thumbs and fingers. She moaned and began to move up and down on him, her movements and her own weight making the force which slid his penis in and out of the delightfully tight vagina.
"Oh, I don't deserve such goodness," she teased.
He liked her. She was a true sensualist. She liked sex. And she had a sense of humor. She meshed with his mood so well that he felt very warm, aside from the passion heat, toward her. He sent joy through her sensitive breasts with his fingers and wonder into her pulsing pussy with his hard rod and she was being turned on wonderfully, so that her hips and loins were doing an exciting little dance with his rod in the center and her breath was panty and her moanings were so loud that he thought she must be on the verge of orgasm and then the goddamned telephone rang.
She froze. He pushed his loins up.
"Damn," he said. The telephone shrilled.
"Answer it," she said.
"Let it ring." He pushed up into the hot, wet, lovely wonder of her.
"I can't stand it," she said. "I've a thing about telephones."
He humped. "Then you answer it."
"You don't mind letting people know you have a woman in your apartment?"
He reached out for the telephone, making a smirk of anger and distaste. "Yeah?" he growled into the instrument.
"Yes sir," he sighed the tone of his voice changing. He almost came to attention. The effect was to make his rod move in Dinah. She wiggled, having a nice feeling in her.
"Yes sir," Mark said. "Now, sir?" He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Yes, sir." He started to hang up, heard the bark of a voice. "Beg pardon, sir?" He listened. "A what, sir?" He nodded. "An assistant. I see. Yes, sir." This time he hung up.
"Hey," Dinah said. His penis was wilted.
"Huh?" he asked, looking at her blankly. "Oh, honey. Look, I'm sorry. I've got to run."
"Oh, no," she whispered, trying to suck the limpness of his penis back into her with working vaginal muscles.
"Sorry, baby," he said, pushing her away. "That was the master."
"Not the president."
"Himself," Mark said. "And he's having one of his famous midnight meetings."
"It's only nine o'clock," Dinah said. "If the meeting is at midnight we have time for some fancy screwing before you go." He laughed at her as she knelt on the bed and made lewd movements with her loins.
When he came out of the bathroom, not having taken time to shower but only to wash the love juices from his genitals, she was still sitting on the bed. "Look, honey," he said. "Why don't you stay here? I have no idea how long this is going to last, but I'll be back sometime tonight."
"I'd rather go with you," she said. "After all, I've waited two years for this."
"I'd rather take you with me," he said, "but when the master calls-"
"He said for you to get an assistant."
Mark paused. "Hummm," he said, hand to chin.
"In addition to my indoor talents," Dinah said, "I talk well, take shorthand, have a memory for details and can follow orders."
"He said bring an assistant," Mark said. He grinned. "Miss Russell, would you mind putting some clothing over that big, beautiful body of yours? We have a meeting to attend."
"Give me five minutes," she said.
"You have two," he told her.
"In that case-" She stepped from the bed. She stood spread-legged, grinning at him lewdly, and wiped her pussy on the sheet.
"Ohhhh," he moaned in mock anguish.
She slipped into her panties, bra and one-piece, a whispy piece of fashionable material which covered her from the point two inches below her crotch to her shoulders. "Ready, boss," she said.
"A woman after my own heart," Mark said, liking the unfastidious way she was willing to forget, when necessary, the little things. To Mark, a woman who would put on her panties over a freshly screwed pussy, a pussy full of come, and go confidently off to an important meeting was a beauty and a joy forever. "If I could afford it, I'd buy you for my birthday."
"I'm awfully cheap," she laughed, taking his arm. "Make me an offer."
CHAPTER TWO
Kitty White was putting the children to bed. The little ones were tumbling over the rug in their pajamas. The thirteen-year-old was primping in the bath. "Catherine," Kitty yelled, trying to sound not too much like a fishwife, "will you please come out of there?" Catherine, named after her mother, resented the use of any nickname, so it was the mother who was called by a diminutive rather than the daughter. However, Kitty didn't mind. At thirty-eight, she liked being a Kitty, rather than a Catherine. Catherine was all right for a vivacious almost-fourteen-year-old with white-blond hair and a body which made strong males from fourteen to fifty weep with desire.
Sometimes, looking at her daughter as she was when she'd just come from a bath, as now, or when she was dressed for the beach in her yellow bikini, Kitty thought the girl was developing too fast. However, Kitty, herself, had been a fast developer, blessed-or cursed-with a set of glands which, at fourteen, made the kids call her uncomplimentary things such as bit of titty or big-tit. At fourteen, Kitty had walked with a forced shoulder-slump, trying to change the pointed, huge prow of her breasts. Catherine, at almost-fourteen, walked with a proud, pelvis-forward, shoulders-back posture which emphasized her nice breasts and her slim body.
"I'm through," Catherine said. She had the ice-blonde hair of her mother. She had the same face, a somewhat haughty, aristocratic face with well-formed features, a delicate beauty which was accented by wide, slightly tilted eyes.
Kitty saw the strong, slim legs below baby-doll pajamas, the hard-pointed little breasts pushing against the thin material of the top. "To bed, then," she said. Catherine made a face and went into her room, banging the door behind her. Kitty pushed the two younger ones into the bathroom and supervised teeth brushing and gargling. Then Ed, Junior, the middle boy, came out of his room and kissed her good night and she put the kids to bed in their joint room and sighed with relief.
Ed was in the study. She went in and sat in a big leather chair with a snifter of brandy in her hand. Ed was reading. He looked up when she came in and smiled a faint smile and went immediately back to his books. She sat quietly and sipped her brandy. It was good to just sit and rest after the hectic evening. She wouldn't trade her four kids for anything, but sometimes she wondered if she were not being dumb about insisting on taking care of them all by herself. They could certainly afford help, but Kitty didn't like having other people in the house. For years, when the kids were small, there had been women to keep them during the day. Now they were all in school and, with her carrying a reduced load of teaching, it was possible to take care of job and house and family alone.
It made her feel a bit tired at times. She dozed in the chair, the brandy glass in her hands held by numbed fingers.
"Why don't you go to bed, darling?" Ed asked.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was a tall, sandy-haired man tending toward softness. He wasn't overweight, and at forty-four was still as handsome as most men at thirty-five, but he did, she thought, spend too much time at his desk and not enough on the tennis court.
"Oh, I'm all right," she said. "I'll wait for you."
"I'll be a while. I have to plow through all of this material. They're doing some interesting work with the hereditary process at Duke."
Kitty sighed. She was an English teacher. Ed, Dr. Edward M. White, was assistant Dean of the School of Medicine. She sometimes wondered how it would have been if Ed had gone into private practice instead of doing the research bit and then going into teaching. She pictured a nice, two story house in a quiet town, perhaps down along the coast.
"E.C. mentioned this line of research just the other day," Ed said. "He seemed to be very interested in it. I think he's on the verge of setting up a fellowship to work in the field."
"Good old Eech," Kitty said, grinning. As usual, the crack got a shocked look from Ed. "Oh, don't be so stuffy," she giggled. "What do you expect when a man has a name like Effinbane E. C. Muleholtzen? With initials like E. E. C?"
"I just hope you're careful about things like that," Ed said.
Kitty felt a tinge of sadness. She loved her husband, but if there was anything about him she didn't like, it was his lack of confidence. He was a wonderful administrator, a good teacher and a brilliant doctor, and yet he tended-and she let herself use some loathed words-to toady and boot lick when the big wheels, such as Dr. Effinbane E. C. Muleholtzen, were even so much as mentioned. But a woman couldn't have everything. She had a good man, a beautiful family, a home which excited envy in all the faculty wives, a satisfying job. She was a well-adjusted woman in every way. She had no mental or physical disabilities. Her sex life was all she wanted it to be. Had she not produced four wonderful, healthy children to prove it?
In the end, she had to go to bed before Ed. She dawdled in the bathroom, combing her ash-blonde hair, removing the makeup carefully from her face, examining her teeth for signs of cavities and finding none. She removed her shift, a sensible-length garment which extended a full four even inches below her crotch, took off the lacy bra and bikini panties and weighed herself on the velvet-covered scales. The scale wavered between ninty-seven and ninty-eight. She smiled. She was a ninty-seven-pound weakling.
She brushed her teeth and walked her straight, swaying way into the huge bedroom. Blue carpet was soft under her feet. She was slim and lovely, small breasted. Breasts which had seemed, at fourteen, to be monstrous, were just right for her small body. They had big nipples with big, rosy aureola-blossoms extending back into creamy whiteness. Her hips were small, almost boy-like. Her pelvic bone was prominent and the hair, curly and thick, matched her ash-blond head. Her waist was tiny and her stomach flat and firm. She kept it that way with a combination of dance-exercise, a ritual which she adhered to with no exceptions, for she had a secret dread of becoming fat. A small woman who let her body go to obesity was, to Kitty an abomination.
She took ballet twice a week. In her own bedroom, she practiced, beautifully nude, whirling and kicking and rising into the air with what her teacher called beautiful lift. She interspersed the dancing with sit-ups and knee-bends and when she was quite breathless and her body felt gloriously alive, with all muscles firm and making themselves felt, she danced into the shower and ran it hot and steamy and soaped and splashed and whistled and then came out, shaking the water from her trim body and dried and fell, drowsy and pleasantly tired, into the king-sized bed.
She was almost asleep when Ed came to bed. She heard him puttering in the bathroom. She opened one eye and saw him padding, nude, into the room, light from the bath behind him, his prick hanging, big and limp, swinging from side to side.
A warm feeling went through her. Ed arranged his clothing on the clothes horse and went back to turn out the bathroom light and came to bed. His weight made the bed sigh a bit. She let him get settled and then rolled across the space between them to wrap one leg over his thighs, pushing her pelvic bone up against his hard hip bone.
"I thought you were asleep," he said.
"Ummm," she said. She moved her pelvis, pushing her clitoris against him suggestively. She felt warm and drowsy and soft. She had an unformed but conscious desire to be held, to have him turn toward her and crush her in his arms and that made her melt inside and open up like a ripeness, a soft pear of passion melting down to her pussy and making it suddenly melty and warm and mellow.
"You're not sleepy?" Ed asked, through a yawn.
She laughed, low in her throat. She put her soft hand on his limp prick and squeezed gently. She milked the skin back and forth over his glans penis and felt the rewarding hardness begin.
"I see you're not sleepy," Ed said, his voice gentle.
His prick hardened. Her hand made it fill and swell and then he rolled atop her, his weight welcome to her small body. She held his prick with one hand and spread her firm, lovely thighs to accept his big maleness and he moved up and she guided his prick to stab the ready softness of her pussy. It went in with an ease born of years of practice. He filled her nicely. She lay almost still, merely moving her loins part way to meet his regular thrust. He kissed her. She let her tongue go out and he sucked it for a moment, then he shifted and lowered his head and took her left breast into his mouth. It felt good. She felt good all over. She felt warm and wanted and it was nice to be filled with his big, hard prick. He sucked and nibbled at her nipple and she felt it come. She worked her loins harder and when she came she made one small sound and then her pussy was clinging and withdrawing around his prick.
"Good?" he asked.
"Ummm," she said.
He pulled out and hit her three or four times. He liked for her to be still when he was going. She relaxed. It was pleasant to let him use her body. She felt him swell inside her after three or four thrusts and then he spasmed weakly.
"Yours?" she asked.
"Not bad," he said. "Little weak because I'm a bit more tired than usual."
"Ummm," she said.
He lay atop her for a minute or two and then he pulled away and went into the bath and washed his prick. He brought her a wet cloth and she wiped her pussy and then he was lying on his back and was alseep almost immediately, leaving her awake and thinking of nothing in particular. Her mind in idle, she reviewed the coming day and found that she prepared for everything. Then she started thinking about random things.
To make herself sleep, she often thought of pleasant things. Tonight, she choose to remember sweet moments from the past and with her body freshly used, her libido sated for the moment, she remembered how it was when she and Ed were courting, when they'd kiss and kiss and hold each other close for hours until blood was boiling and the need to make love was so strong that they both had to fight themselves to keep from falling into the nearest horizontal plane. She remembered how it was the first night, with her pussy all tight from lack of use. She was a virgin. She was virgin at eighteen by choice. And, when it turned out to be so wonderful with Ed, when his big prick didn't hurt her except for a moment and then brought spine-tingling excitement and resultant ecstasy to her, she was glad she'd waited. She found, on that first night of her marriage, that she was a sexpot. She loved making love. She loved being screwed. And Ed was a horny fellow who screwed her two and three times a day for the first year and then once a day for a year and then three times a week and then, the children sometimes cutting them both off for a month or so while being born, twice a week and now-
She was suddenly wide awake. She was a bit horrified, because she'd been thinking that now Ed only screwed her about once a week and how when he did she was usually the one who started it, not at all like it used to be when a glance from either of them was enough to send them tumbling into the bed room romp and be excitingly vulgar in oral sex and then wild in copulation with Ed sometimes atop and with her sometimes sitting astride his big body stabbing his prick deeply into her with her weight, all ninty-seven pounds of it, pushing her down on the rigid staff of his virility to make the head of it touch her womb and thrill her into wild, moaning spasms of orgasm.
They were so alive in those days. What had happened?
She felt disloyal. She knew he loved her. She loved him. But where had all the excitement gone? Now when they made love Ed rolled on top of her and put it in. Most of the time he didn't even so much as kiss her in advance. She supposed that it was as much her fault as his. She didn't seem to have the patience for foreplay anymore and she was always ready for the main event, and she came like a house afire. When she was young she was sometimes very slow to arrive at orgasm. There had been many times when Ed, young and virile, could not control his climax and he would come and leave her hanging and she didn't really mind, then, because she knew that a woman is slower to arouse than a man and she couldn't blame poor Ed for not being able to keep at it for hours.
But now that was all changed. Now she was the one who came quickly and Ed sometimes had to keep going until she wished that he would finish. Not that she minded. She loved to give him satisfaction. She liked to feel him get stronger and stronger and swell inside her and then pump. It made her feel very womanly. He wasn't as strong as he once was. When they were both young-she paused in her thinking to tell herself that thirty-eight and forty-four were not old-she felt as if she were being hosed down inside when Ed came in her. He'd buck and lunge and then his prick would swell and burst and pump and she could feel the come jazzing out into her thirsty tissue and-the time she did it with Mark Hopkins he was as strong and he pumped with vigor and she could feel it pumping out into her all hot and alive and-
She had a moderate amount of guilt about that affair. She wished that it hadn't happened.
But it had happened.
And what harm to remember it?
It was over three years past. She'd been thirty-five and Mark was about twenty-seven, an assistant professor in the English department, a young, ambitious man with a respectable background in small colleges, a good degree and a love of the language which made Kitty's heart open up to him immediately. Someone had given one of those things for the new faculty members. Fifty people milling around in the large salon of the faculty lounge, martinis, salty-dogs, gin and tonic, vodka and water.
Kitty drank vodka and water with a twist of lemon. Ed told her that her reasons for drinking the drink were purely masochistic. She said that it was the mix in drinks which made one feel bad the next day. Ed said, on the contrary, that drinking a sweet mix, like ginger ale, helped prevent after party hangovers by adding sugar to the blood, since alcohol takes both oxygen and sugar from the bloodstream, thus causing the well-known post-alcohol depression. But Kitty couldn't take sweet drinks, so she mixed an ounce of vodka with two ounces of water, squeezed in some lemon, added lots of ice, and ventured forth to meet the newcomers. She had made four trips back to the bar, since one had to have fuel to survive a full faculty get-together, before someone introduced her to Mark Hopkins.
"Yes, indeed," she said, seeing the tall, husky young man with his dark, somewhat curly hair.
"A new member of the English staff," the whoever it was who was introducing them said.
Kitty was a bit drunk.
"Yessssss," she said.
"Yes," Mark Hopkins said, "is a lovely word."
"Are you in love with words?" Kitty asked. "I'm in love with words. I like the word calumniatory. It sounds so descriptively evil."
"-Mark Hopkins," the whoever it was was saying.
"I'm Kitty," Kitty said, stepping in between whoever it was and Mark Hopkins. "Do you like to say in-ap-pre-hen-si-ble?"
"I always like to say in-ap-pre-hen-si-ble," Mark said. He had the nicest smile.
"And calefacient," Kitty said.
"Whew," Mark said. "Where's the Webster's?"
"Making warm," Kitty said. "Heating."
"You are," he said. "Do you belong to anyone?"
"I believe in free spirits," she said. "We women were emancipated back in the wild, happy 1920's and we don't belong to anyone anymore."
"May I borrow you then?"
There was dancing in the moody, artistically lit bar. People sat on the stools and consumed scotch and soda and bourbon and water and dry manhattans and one little old lady asked for a pink lady and got it from the shiny-skinned bartender, whom Kitty recognized as a grad student in languages. Mark Hopkins borrowed her and led her into the dance area. It was not crowded. Only a few couples swirled and flowed around the floor as the big speakers on the wall gave forth with smooth, big-band sounds. Kitty danced well, in spite of the fact that as a youth she had been exposed to the abortion known as rock 'n' roll. She'd learned how to dance from Ed, first, then in her classes, gradually discovering a wonderful heritage of sounds left by the big bands of the 1940's and participating in the revival of art in music in the country, relegating the amateurs who, when she was young, could make one horrible record with a big beat and blue-colored lyrics and make a million dollars to the scrap heap of musical history. Finding a rock 'n' roll fan now was a rare happening. Now and then one ran across a jerk who remembered his youth and said, about screaming Negro voices and boom, boom, boom, boom guitars-"Man, that's the way it used to be." Such a jerk was usually far down the scale of income, sense and breeding, for adults had taken over the music business again and the sounds were made musical by real professional musicians who could give vent to their talents.
So Kitty was held close in a pair of strong male arms. She bent her back in order to look into Mark Hopkins' face. It was a very nice face and she smiled at it.
"I'm a bit drunk," she said. "If I get my feet in your way-"
"You dance beautifully," Mark said. He liked the slimness of her. There was a heat through her thin dress which made the hackles rise on the back of his neck. When he'd first seen her he could feel the chemistry work. Now, with her in his arms, he couldn't resist pulling close. He could feel the hardness of her pelvic bone as it protruded against his thigh on the turns. He had his soft tool pressed into the firmness of her stomach and she didn't pull away. She just leaned back and made the pelvic bone protrude further and looked at him and smiled.
Kitty didn't feel like talking. She put her head down on his shoulder. She loved being held. She was tiddly and it didn't dawn on her that she was loving being held by a man whom she'd just met, but she, too, had felt the chemistry begin to work. It's that way sometimes, she thought, sort of fuzzily. You meet a man and, wham! It was that way with Mark. He was a big fellow, tall, over six feet. That made her face just come to his pectoral muscle. She rested her cheek there.
"You have a beautiful body," he said, quite excitingly, if unexpectedly, bending his head to whisper into her ear. "Thank you."
She could feel his arm around her waist. He held her very close. His hand went all the way around her to fold over the ribs and put the tip of his fingers on her stomach.
"You're going to cause talk," she said.
"Why?"
"They're going to say that you're trying to absorb me right into you, like some great amoeba."
"That's the most exciting thing I've heard in years," Mark said. "Do you suppose I could?"
"Would you want to?"
"Lady," he whispered. "I feel like springing at you. I feel like seizing you and carrying you off somewhere."
She laughed. "You can't do that. What would the dean say?"
"He might fire both of us and then we'd have to run away together to escape the disgrace." He held her closer, and it hardly seemed possible. She could feel the slightest bit of hardness growing in his loins and it sent a wave of weak-kneed shivers throughout her body. She tried to tell herself to come to her senses.
"Do you believe in honesty?" he asked.
"I distrust honest men," she said. "They say, quite honestly, that they want to go to bed with you."
"Quite honestly," Mark said. "I want to go to bed with you."
"You see?" She laughed. "That's why I hate honest men." But inside she was tingling. The thought of his body covering hers, of his hardness entering her, was so sweet that she felt her arms begin to tremble. He felt. He let his hand caress her back and lowered it slightly, with her back to the dark wall, to let his fingers feel the sweet, soft roundness of one buttocks.
"Let's go away from here," Mark said. "Please."
"I can't," she said, and there was true regret in her voice. "Why?"
"The usual reasons. I'm married."
"A little affair, then," he said.
"There is no such thing as a little affair."
"Do you know from experience?"
She looked at him, frowning. "No."
"Let me show you how, then. I guarantee a little affair. No recriminations, no complications, no problems."
"Just like that? We just pop off to bed somewhere?"
He let his hand go down to squeeze the ball of her rump. She felt his fingers close to the crease, close to her anus. His touch excited her. She could not deny that. She'd had five vodka-water-lemons and her body chemistry meshed with his to a wondrous extent and she was so passionate that she was trembling and her teeth threatened to chatter.
"I want you," he said. "I want to do nice, exciting, sensuous things to you. I want to-"
"Just hold me," she said. "I like to be held."
"Then give me a chance to hold you in privacy."
"You're holding me. I just want to feel secure and warm-"
"I'll hold you. Alone. Please give me that chance."
"I can't."
"Don't do this to us," he said. "Hummmm?" She pulled away and looked at him.
"Don't do this to us. We are meant to be. That sounds corny as hell, but it's the truth. Somewhere in each one of us there is a something which responds to that same something in the other. If you deny it, then you're hurting both of us."
"I can't." She pulled away. She went into the main room and mixed with people. She talked the same inanities, heard the same complaints, the same fuzzy-liberal views on everything from race to the space program, which was to put a man on Mars within the year. She had two more drinks and then Ed came to pick her up, stayed a few minutes to pay his respects to the members of the faculty of the school of liberal arts, drove her home laughing at her silly chatter, telling her that each time she got woozy, as she obviously was, she was destroying a few more brain cells.
She said she had some to spare, since being woozy was so comfortable. She seduced Ed and had a fine orgasm and woke up with the granddaddy of all hangovers. She splashed cold water on her face, dressed, went downstairs. She still had help then, and breakfast was on the table. Ed looked up and grinned. The kids looked up and she tried to smile and the effect was to split her face wide open and cause her head to ache.
Ed laughed again and wiped his lips on a napkin and stood and motioned for her to follow. She went into his study and he pulled out a small oxygen bottle and fitted the mask to her face. She breathed deeply a few times and began to feel better. There was a Coke beside her plate at the breakfast table. She gulped it down. Sugar and oxygen.
"That's why I married you, darling," she said, smiling at their private joke as the kids prattled and messed up the table and Kitty, suddenly hungry, attacked two eggs, sausage, orange juice and biscuits.
"I know," Ed said. "That's the only reason you keep me around."
But when he finished he paused beside her chair and squeezed her arm. She smiled up at him.
"Cut out the mush," young Catherine said, smiling.
He was a good man, all the man she ever needed or wanted. It was lack of sanity to even consider an affair when she had a man like Ed. If anything, she was a sensible woman. So why, when Mark stood outside the door to her office, obviously waiting for her, obviously making it necessary for her to face him, did her knees go weak and her heart pound? "Kitty?" he said.
"All right," she told him. "All right." Because there was no use denying it anymore. She was sensible. She was sane. Yet she knew that she was going to risk all, reputation, home, family in order to know the strength of his arms, the penetration of his manhood into her.
"When?"
"Do you have a telephone?" He gave her a number.
"I'll call you. Are you usually at home in the early evening?"
"Yes. That's when I do my grading and my lesson plans."
"All right, then."
She left him standing there with a bemused look on his handsome young face. She went home to her children. She had a handsome young Negro girl who came in after the cook left. The girl was ripe and musky with a latent sexuality and she was afraid she might be a bad influence on the boys, who were old enough, at least Ed, Junior, to be curious about the difference between girls and boys. The girl's name was Priss Tomas. She was a freshman in the school of fine arts and she worked as baby-sitter in residence in exchange for some tutoring, breakfast and dinner in the kitchen with the cook and a room at the back of the hall upstairs. Kitty, when Priss first appeared in response to her ad in the college paper, asked her if her name was not Priscilla and Priss said no, it was just Priss and Kitty asked if that wasn't a sort of Uncle Tom name. Kitty believed in being honest. Priss said, maybe so, but it was her name and it was good enough to make straight A's on the tests and good enough to go onto the entrance exam which placed her in the upper five percent of intelligent in the entire university.
Kitty said maybe Priss was too intelligent to work as sort of a domestic and Priss said it didn't bother her, as long as Kitty didn't ask her to say "Ma'am" and "yessum" and like that. Kitty said that wouldn't be necessary and told Priss her duties, which consisted of taking care of the young ones and seeing to it that Ed, Junior, and Catherine got their homework and brushed their teeth. At that time Kitty was carrying a full teaching load and many of her evenings were taken up with preparing for future classes or grading papers for past tests and so it was that Priss spent a lot of time with the children and Priss was there to watch them the Tuesday night when Ed announced that he had a meeting which would keep him quite late. He had to drive to the hospital in the neighboring town and it was fifty miles each way and he wouldn't be home until midnight or past.
Kitty felt a quick surge of guilty sensuality and she began to quiver inside. She helped Ed pack his briefcase with all the papers he needed and she kissed him goodbye and the car was hardly out of the drive before she was in Ed's study dialing the number she'd memorized.
"Mark?"
"Yes. Kitty?"
"Yes. Are you alone?"
"Yes. Can you come over?"
"Is there a place nearby where I can park?"
"Park at the student union and walk through the arbor and come up the back stairs."
"Yes."
"When?"
"Yes. Right now. I'll just come as I am if you don't mind."
"Anyway. To me you'll look good if you're wearing costume from a hippie play of the 1960's."
She told Priss she'd be out for a few hours, to put the children to bed and to go to bed herself. She went into her bedroom, changed into a yellow shift, pulled off the white panties she'd worn all day and put on a pair of yellow lace bikini pants and checked her eye makeup. She darkened the shadow to give contrast to her eye-hair-gestalt and walked out with the guilty-sensous knowledge that her love glands were already beginning to make juice. The panties would be sopping.
She parked in the crowded parking lot at the student union building, walked the dark walks of the arbor under the wisteria vines, looking right and left nervously. There was a light on the outside border of the park area. She hurried past its glow with her head down, feeling like a criminal, almost ready to turn back, but driven onward by the chemistry of her body, that insane yearning to be possessed by Mark Hopkins. She knew his house.
He had the top apartment in a two story place with ivy on the brick walls. She paused momentarily at the stairway which went up from the back yard to the door to Mark's kitchen. Her heart pounded. She could feel the wetness in her crotch. She went up the steps slowly. He must have heard her, for he was at the doorway waiting when she pushed herself to the landing and halted. "Kitty."
He was standing with his back to the light coming through the kitchen door and the living room. The kitchen, itself, was dark. "Hello, Mark," she said, her voice almost failing.
"Come in."
He opened the screen. She stepped in and was surrounded by his arms and lifted from her feet. She felt his hardness. He was fully erect and it was pushing into her stomach. She started crying.
"What's wrong? What is it?"
She couldn't stop crying.
"Please don't, Kitty," he begged, kissing the tears away.
"I know," she said. "It's silly." She managed, with effort, to stop the sobs.
"Want to tell me why?"
"Being honest again?"
"Isn't that the best way?"
"All right," she said. "I guess I was crying because I'm so hot for you that I can't stand it and my conscience was protesting."
"Conscience better now?" He wouldn't let her answer for a minute. He closed her mouth with his in a wet, hot, demanding kiss. She was lifted from the ground again and she knew he was strong. Having all that strength captured in her body was the most erotic thought of a decade.
"Well, it's losing," she said, when she could speak again. His hands were low on her rump, holding her by the soft, sweet, roundness of her buttocks. She was pressed against his hardness. She wiggled her pelvis and felt the tip of his prick seek out the cup under her hard bone and press into the softness of her pussy.
"Kitty, Kitty," he whispered. "I want to make it so goddamned good for you. I want to worship you, do anything you want me to do-"
"Just take my clothes off," she said, surprised at the sound of the words. "Take my clothes off and screw me, Mark."
"Here? In the kitchen?"
It was so wonderful, the way they could be so passionate and still be able to be light about it. "In the kitchen sink, on the table. I don't care," she whispered, "just so you do it."
He lifted her. He walked easily, so strong, through a neat living room into the bedroom to a standard-sized bed with a soft mattress which gave slightly as he sat her down on it and began, immediately, to pull the straps of her dress down from her shoulders. Her strapless bra exposed, he kissed her and, with both hands behind her, began to fumble with the snap.
"Here," she said, when he was unable to undo it, "let me." She pulled the bra around, putting the cups behind her back, undid the snap and tossed the garment away. He touched her breasts with a gentle, hot touch, letting his fingers pinch her nipples.
"So pretty," he said. "I knew they'd look like that."
"Hurry, Mark," she said. "Hurry!"
He pulled her dress off over her feet, taking sandals with it. He lowered her bikini panties slightly and kissed the softness of her belly just above her pubic hair. "Hurry!" she whispered.
"Play later?" he asked.
"Oh, yes."
"All right, then."
What happened then was one of the most exciting things in her life. Mark, without removing his pants or shirt, opened his fly and took out his prick. She drew in a long breath at the sight of it. It was big, bigger than Ed's. It was almost purple on the head it was so engorged with passion. It was shiny and there was a little bead of clear fluid coming out of the little eye. She had only a split second to see, for he was moving. He knelt in front of her and used one hand to pull the crotch of her bikini panties aside to expose her well-lubricated vagina. He thrust his prick into the wetness and it slid into the opening and she realized, suddenly, that he was going to screw her without taking off her panties or his clothing and the unexpectedness of it sent white-hot shafts of passion screaming and ripping through her body and she was suddenly a wildcat, scratching his back, holding him, biting at his lips wetly, moaning and making crying-sobbing sounds as she peaked almost immediately and felt the come of loveliness in her loins and her belly and felt his hard strength inside.
"Squeeze me," she whispered.
His arms were like iron bands around her. He pressed until she gasped and he let her go, but she said, "No, hold me."
She felt the sweet orgasm burst loose inside her and she was frightened by its steel strength, as it convulsed the muscles of her vagina and made her cry out and fight to get Mark's hard prick deeper into her. And, the most frightening part of it was that her desire didn't fade with the orgasm, but grew, instead, into an all-consuming monster of desire as Mark, excited by her wildness, began to come into her double-stroke, drilling his hard prick deep into her and mashing the sensitivity button of her clitoris until she was on the verge again and began to spasm with an almost minute-long pang as Mark pushed, pushed, held, swelled, drew back, popped it into her and came with a rush of semen which warmed and wetted and made her scream with joy as her orgasm came to a peak as his hot come rushed and made itself felt like jets of pure, molten love inside her thirsty, hot, wet, sliding tissue and then she was so weak and so satisfied that she lay back, holding that strong, hard young body to her with a fierce possessiveness.
"Kitty, Kitty, Kitty," he whispered. "How wonderful you are. I've never known anyone so wonderful."
She wanted to tell him the same thing. But, suddenly, she realized that she was loving him. Or was she? Was the possessive, hot, melting, wonderful thing in her love or was it just a revival, however temporary, of the hot juice of young sex?
"We'll play now," he whispered, nuzzling the soft sweetness of her neck. "Do you know I haven't even kissed your titties?"
A wild thrill went through her. The thought of his kissing her breasts did wonderful things to her.
"And I'll chew your pussy and kiss you on the belly and the thighs and-"
And the problem was that she wanted those things so much that she was terrified of having them. She was desperately afraid that if she let loose the torrent of passion which was rebuilding in her she would never, never again be able to go back to being just Mrs. Ed White, housewife and career girl. If she let Mark do all those wonderful things to her, let her body know the joy, she might never be able to let him go.
There is no such thing, for a certain kind of woman, as a little affair.
She'd become involved right up to her neck.
"No," she said, and it was hard, so hard. She pushed him away.
"No, what?"
"That's all, Mark. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving now."
"Leaving? Now?" His voice showed his disbelief.
She pushed and he pulled his softening prick out of her. She felt a horrible jolt of loss. God, she wanted him. She wanted him so badly she felt like falling down on her hands and knees and screaming, "Give it to me, Mark. Screw me, love. Put your prick in me and screw me!" But she had too much to lose and she didn't trust herself.
"You can't leave, Kitty, not now, for heaven's sake." He put his hand on her arm. She brushed it softly away.
"It was too wonderful for us," he said. "You can't leave just as we've found each other."
"Mark," she said, "I have to leave."
"Why?"
"Because I'm just an ordinary woman," she said. "I'm so very ordinary. I've got four kids and a fine husband-"
"That has nothing to do with you and me."
"It has everything to do with it," she said. "You tell me how wonderful I am. You make me feel that I am wonderful. And I'm not. I'm just an ordinary housewife who happens to teach school on the university level. I love my kids and I love my husband and I can't afford to be made to be too wonderful, and you might be able to do it."
She reached for the fallen bra and stretched her hands behind her to fasten it. Mark saw her beautiful breasts disappear with a sadness. Then she was being hidden by the folds of her shift.
"You do understand what I'm saying?" she asked.
"I think so. You're telling me what you told me that other night, that there is no such thing as a little affair."
"Yes."
"The sex was magnificent. Can't we just keep it at that?"
"Goodbye," she said, stepping briskly toward the door.
So now she had to take it out, like a jewel, and examine it now and then, and it was as if it were a stolen jewel and could only be admired in the darkness, where its true light could never shine. She lay on her marriage bed, and three years from the time Mark Hopkins had pulled the crotch of her loose panties aside and inserted his prick without taking off his clothing, she felt a resurgence of the hot passion she'd known with him. Only minutes after being loved by her husband the mere thinking of Mark Hopkins and that wild, wild passionate few seconds of screwing made her squirm.
She let herself savor the memory. She was dozing and Mark Hopkins, in her erotic waking-sleeping dream, became any man, any young, strong, loving young man who could reawaken the fires of youth in her. She was thinking a good sex fantasy and half-dreaming when the telephone rang. Ed moved in his sleep, but did not awaken. She picked up the telephone. She recognized the voice immediately.
"Kitty?" E.E.C. Muleholtzen said, in that powerful, deep voice of his. "Are you asleep?"
"Not now," Kitty said.
"Obviously," Muleholtzen said. "Pardon my inanity. Ed is the one I want."
"He's here."
"Tell him to be here in thirty minutes," Muleholtzen said. "At this hour?"
"Hell, Kitty, I'm not being unreasonable. It's only ten o'clock and this is urgent. Tell him to haul his lazy bones out of bed and get here."
"All right," Kitty said.
"And Kitten?"
She didn't like being called Kitten, not even by the great Muleholtzen. "Yes?" she asked. "You might as well come along."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm sure you'll be interested in this, and we'll need you, anyhow, at a later date when the plan begins to develop."
"What plan?"
"No questions, Kitten," Muleholtzen said. "Just slip into something slinky and make it over here."
Kitty sighed as she hung up. She shook Ed's shoulder.
"Huh? Hh? Huh?" He sounded almost stupid coming out of sleep.
"Wake," Kitty said. "The master calleth."
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Effinbane E.C. Muleholtzen was an un-likely man, with an un-likely name, who lived in an unsanctified age the like of which Hitler or Genghis Khan had never dared imagine. Muleholtzen was a genius. He was talented in so many fields that specialists in all fields abhorred him. He was radical, egotistical. He seemed to combine the character traits of an alchemist of the Middle Ages, a head-shrinker of the Jung-Freud type and a modern atmospecialist in an eerie, sometimes almost malign way.
Because Muleholtzen was a genius, he invented the new drive engine which would put a man on Mars within the year before he retired from the space program at the age of twenty-three. He was given credit, but never enough in his own view, for giving the world a cure for both cancer and for organically influenced mental sickness during his career as a research doctor, a career from which he retired at the age of thirty-one.
Muleholtzen's genius extended past such things as nuclear physics and endoctrinology to the art of making money, so that his space drive and his medical discoveries paid him handsomely. He had pushed through Congress a little, intensely concentrated bill which made his income from the cancer serum nontaxable as a contribution to human welfare, and thus, had ammassed the only great fortune of modern times. With that fortune, he bought about a third of the southeastern tip of what once had been a national park in a Midwestern state and established Muleholtzen University.
Now in his middle years, Muleholtzen had taken time to pause and look around him. He was horrified by the continuous blob of misery that was the earth. He set out to change the world and, incidentally, to make the name of Muleholtzen immortal. It was a large order, even for a man of the good Doctor's abilities. The unchecked population explosion of the twentieth century had made the human race predominately technicolor. Black and yellow were aligned against white. A precarious alliance between the United States and the U.S.S.R., an alliance backed by big bombs, enough nerve gas to kill the population of the earth five times and the bloody mindedness to wipe out to the last man any nation such as China or United Central Africa, kept the world poised on the brink. In the noncommunist countries, labor and management had returned to open warfare. Racial hatred had resulted in a black enclave in the area comprised of Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia and South Carolina. Florida, isolated from the rest of the white states, had to patrol its northern borders and constant armed raids kept the casualties adding up all around the black nation within a nation. Crime was an international hobby.
The Mafia Party had a strong minority group in Congress. The sport of rioting had spread from the university level down to grade school.
The biggest problem, the root source of all other problems, was population. The world crawled, swarmed, festered with people. A few square feet of living space was of more immediate importance than sending men to Mars, much less to Alpha Bootis. Raw materials were scarce. Muleholtzen had heard the call of the stars and recognized space travel as a potential savior of mankind. If man could find habitable planets and furnish the means to go there, the population crush could be eased. Muleholtzen didn't believe in a god, but he believed in the natural designs of nature. Thus, he felt that the urge to breed went deeper than sex. He thought that man fornicated and multiplied not to satisfy the itch in his loins, but to send people searching out through the universe. That was why he was in the space program. Muleholtzen stuck it out, added to the science with his drive, which was still too primitive to be of use in going to the stars but which was good enough to put a man on Mars, if the program could hang onto the few millions of dollars it was allocated by a stingy Congress. He stuck it out until it became evident that he did not have enough genius-it was one of the first times he admitted failure-to invent a sublight drive and until it became evident that the government was going to gradually starve the program into nonexistence, then he quit and went into medicine.
It was somewhat contradictory for a man who was so concerned about overpopulation to use his genius to make it possible for more people to live. By curing cancer, Muleholtzen helped add to the problem of overcrowding, but he had a method to his seeming madness. He knew that medicine was one of the only sure-fire ways of making a dollar and he cured the race of one of its deadliest killers merely to make it possible for him to attack the population from another angle. Muleholtzen University, guarded by hired mercenaries armed with deadly laser rifles, isolated from the frantic struggle of life, was a think factory designed to produce the type of people who could solve the problem, or help solve the problem, for Muleholtzen had come to a solution. All he needed was troops to help carry out his final solution to the overpopulation problem. He spent years recruiting a team, without telling them why he was gathering them. His task was made easy by the fact that the school was the finest in the world, the only one left which had not been turned into a crazy, anarchistic patchwork of student control. The best teaching and research talents in the world came to Muleholtzen and now he was ready.
The President's house was high on a sandstone bluff overlooking the campus. The wide, sandy river on which Muleholtzen University sat made a white swath through the near distance and the patrol flyers, armed to the teeth, made a hiss of motion across the skies now and then. Muleholtzen gathered his people on the terrace, built of native stone, which was hung dizzily out over the bluff. They had started arriving at nine o'clock. Now Ed White and his attractive little pussycat of a wife came and that rounded it out. Muleholtzen rose and the scattered conversation of an even dozen people buzzed and faded and there was stillness.
Kitty White had been served a vodka-water-lemon by a uniformed maid. She sipped it and looked at the great man. He was tall, thin. His hair was a dusty-brown color and it was long around his ears and down his neck, not in the late style of the last years of the twentieth century but in a style of simple neglect. Muleholtzen simply had not taken the time to get a haircut. His nose was rather prominent. His skin was rough, as if he'd had childhood skin problems. He was dressed in dark colors. He stood there looking around at them. There was an awed silence.
Kitty let her eyes move around the terrace. It was a blue chip gathering. Aside from herself and Ed, there were ten others. Quite noticable to Kitty was Mark Hopkins. She still saw Mark in the course of work, naturally, but she'd never been alone with him since the night she'd let him put his penis into her with her panties pulled to one side and his clothing merely opened instead of being removed. Also quite noticable to Kitty was the big, blonde girl graduate student who sat beside Mark.
Others present included Dr. John Warner, a psychiatrist on the staff of the school of medicine; Dr. Martha Maying, a dark, attractive woman from the school of dentistry; Dr. David Braith, mathematician and cybernetics authority; Dr. Morna Paul, a lithe brunette who had brought a revolutionalry process of intensified education to the school and others who represented most of the departments of learning. Truly a blue chip gathering. There was enough talent in the room, Kitty thought, to change the world if it were all properly directed.
"Everybody fixed with a drink?" Muleholtzen asked, in his deep, somewhat sexy but commanding voice.
Kitty brought her attention back to the great man. He sipped, put his glass aside.
"We're all going to be eaten," Muleholtzen said.
Dinah Russel squeezed Mark Hopkins' hand and whispered, "Gee, is it that kind of party?" Mark gave her a look. It was her first time at a Muleholtzen meeting.
"Not actually devoured as food," Muleholtzen said. He paused. "Let me approach it from another angle. I've had to twice double the allotment for guards on our fences. And there was an incursion by an armed band just last week which almost carried through to the girl's gym. We're being pushed by the masses of people from all sides. And our country is being pushed and the world is standing on the verge of self-immolation."
Kitty sighed. She'd heard the "we're all doomed" speech many times. She was moderately surprised that it was coming, this time, from Muleholtzen. She wanted to be at home. Seeing Mr. Mark Hopkins had roused a bit of restlessness in her.
"The carbon dioxide content of the air has been increased thirty-two percent in the last hundred years. The climate has changed as a result. Wastes pumped into the water table have polluted the very seas, making it quite probable that the minute organisms which synthesize the very oxygen we breath will be completely wiped out. I don't have to tell you what would happen then. In short, we're bent on self-destruction and there's nothing, seemingly, that we can do about it.
The group was quiet, under the spell of Muleholtzen. He seemed to radiate an aura of power.
"We have tried war. We have tried international organizations and cooperation. We have developed fantastic articles of science and warfare and we've failed to meet the one big problem, we've failed to come up with a sure fire birth control method which can be, if necessary, forced down the throats of those who want to breed like flies. We've prayed to various gods and we're still in trouble and I have come to the conclusion that if we're to be saved we have to save ourselves."
It was like Muleholtzen to announced a flat decision without having consulted anyone. After all, it was his billions which made the University possible, which kept it insulated from the frantic, barbarous world outside.
"Man is going to save himself," Muleholtzen said, "and we are going to be-this group of us here-the instrument of that salvation."
Kitty sighed again. But her attention was recaptured by Muleholtzen's next statement.
"You're all relieved of your teaching or administrative duties as of now," Muleholtzen said. "I have assigment sheets for each of you which I'll distribute in a moment. I think you will all find that our project is a worthy one and I hope you'll all give me only you best. If there are any doubts in the minds of any of you, please tell me now, in the beginning."
There was a buzz of talk among the twelve people seated in front of Muleholtzen. Kitty looked at Ed and he shrugged, frowning in puzzlement. A maid, a cute little child of a thing, came among them, checking names on envelopes. She passed an envelope to Kitty and to Ed. Kitty opened the flap, thinking inane thoughts about sealed orders.
The gist of the orders startled her. She hadn't been outside the university area in years, and now she was going to be seeing a good part of the world. She was startled, but intrigued. A team consisting of Doctors Kitty and Ed White, Dr. John Warner and Dr. Anne Villurbanne would use Muleholtzen's private jet flyer to gather seven persons from scattered areas of the earth. Seven babies, to be exact.
Kitty was completely puzzled. They would visit Africa, China, India, Russia, Germany, Israel, Egypt, and Paris, Texas. They would bring back seven babies to the University City where further orders would be issued.
Kitty looked up and saw Ed smiling at her. "Did you know about this?" she asked.
"No. But I think it's going to be exciting."
"Who is Dr. Anne Villurbanne?" Kitty asked.
"An obstretician," Ed said. "And quite a dish."
"John Warner I know," Kitty said. John was a short, smiling man with dark blonde hair and a baby face. She liked him. He reminded her very much of a cuddly little teddy bear.
"Come along," Ed said, "I'll introduce you to Anne Villurbanne."
Anne was a husky little girl-Kitty thought of her as a girl although she seemed to be at least thirty plus-with a gay laugh. She smiled constantly, had a pleasant voice and gushed, laughing with pleasure at the great adventure coming up. John Warner made his way to the threesome and smiled his happy little smile at them. They were talking excitedly about the upcoming trip and speculating on the reasons for it when Muleholtzen joined them, putting his hand on Kitty's arm. She jumped. His hand was warm and he used it sensuously, letting her know that the touch was not casual. Muleholtzen did not have a reputation for celibacy. The pretty little maids who flitted around his large house were reputed to have duties other than serving drinks.
"I think," Muleholtzen said, "that you make an admirable team. Dr. White for an overall examination of our selected young people; Dr. Villurbanne to look after their babyish desires; Dr.
Warner to see that we've picked mentally sound specimens-" He paused and smiled at Kitty. "And I?" Kitty asked.
"Why, to mother them, of course," Muleholtzen said.
"Is that all I'm good for?" Kitty asked, making a wry face.
"What's wrong with being a successful mother?" Muleholtzen asked. Then he smiled. "But of course that is not the only reason you are a member of the team. Later, you'll teach them beauty and sensitivity. You'll introduce them to the literature and songs of the earth's poets and make them human."
Muleholtzen's hand went down Kitty's arm and moved over to pat her on the rump. She moved slightly. He smiled.
"I think you'd better be off," he said.
"What, now?" Kitty asked.
"Don't worry about your children," Muleholtzen said. "I've sent members of my staff to watch over them."
"Nevertheless," Kitty said, "I'm not popping off on an around the world flight to everywhere without telling them goodbye."
"I'd be disappointed if you did," Muleholtzen said. "But please be aboard when the flyer leaves in two hours."
CHAPTER FOUR
They sat in the shade of an exotic tree. The heat was fierce. It had rained during the night and the air was muggy with humidity. The dancing blacks gleamed with perspiration and oils and their painted faces accented the strangeness of it. Africa had gone primitive again. In the cities the educated Negroes ruled and lived a life of comparative luxury, but the bush people had reverted to the customs and habits of the past centuries. Africa was their first stop because the little tad they were to pick up was scheduled to be the guest of honor at a dinner.
Under strict orders not to attempt to name the infants whom they were to gather from various parts of the big world, the four of them had fallen into referring to the children by number. One, the little African, son of a witch doctor, unwanted, sold forth from his cradle to be eaten as a delicacy by his fellow tribesmen, was lying in the shade in a pretty little bassinette which Villurbanne had brought. He was very black, had intelligent black eyes, a protruding belly and short, active legs. Kitty thought he was cute.
She was less impressed with the rest of the tribe. They seemed to be suffering from malnutrition and various other ailments. She saw sure signs of syphillis on the swinging genitals of some of the naked men and some of the old people showed obvious syphilitic madness. Yet there were some in the group of dancing blacks who were sturdy and healthy looking.
It was a ceremony in their honor. The chief, a strong-chested man with a bone through his nose, had told them that the ceremony had not been scheduled for another week, but he was moving it up to please them and to show them tribal dances, customs and-with a lewd grin-perhaps other things in which they would be interested.
The principal participants in the ceremony seemed to be a group of six young girls, long limbed, sharp breasted, limber. They danced in an area by themselves, naked. Their breasts were longish, but were firm. Their hips were slim, their butts protuberant.
The entire tribe, it seemed, had been dancing for hours and consuming a vile, alcoholic beverage made from spoiled goat's milk. Kitty sat next to Anne Villurbanne and listened to funny remarks. Anne was quite amusing. She could say the funniest things about this black's long penis or that girl's exposed breasts. Kitty had a hard time to keep from laughing.
She did not laugh, however, when the dancing stopped suddenly and the chief slinked over to the area where the six young girls swayed and undulated, seeming in the throes of the wildest of passions.
"Oooo," Anne said. "I think the main attraction is about to begin."
"What main attraction?" Kitty asked.
"Why," Anne said, giggling behind her hand. "I thought you knew. This is a deflowering ceremony. Those girls are virgins and the chief is claiming his kingly right to be the first with them."
"My God," Kitty said. "All six of them?"
"If he can do it," Anne said, "he's quite a man." She giggled. "He's quite a man, anyhow. I'll bet it measures six inches soft."
"Lecher," Kitty said.
One of the young girls had stepped forward from the group. She stood, her eyes fastened on the chief's soft phallus, her body swaying rhythmically. She spread her legs apart and bent her back, arching her pelvis up, her head almost touching the ground. She moved toward the chief.
The exhibition which followed was by far the most sensuous thing ever witnessed by the four-member team from Muleholtzen University. The young black girl, supple, excited to feats of acrobatic eroticism which boggled the senses, moved and swayed and thrust her well-developed breasts at the chief, using them as if they were pointed weapons. Her nipples were swollen to a ripeness. She had the astounding ability to spread her legs wide at the knee, exposing her genital area, and lean back until her forehead touched the ground. Thus, with the pinkness of her pussy exposed, she would wiggle her loins and her hips, giving a kind of exciting life to the seat of her maidenhood.
It went on for about a half hour. The chief showed his interest by erecting a monument to sex, a member which, to the watching Western women, seemed to be a full foot long and as big as their arms. However, the throbbing rise of the chiefs huge member was his only movement. He stood tall and straight as the young girl invited him with her body, teased him with stabbing touches of her nipples, showed him the pink inside of her flesh, wetted by her exertion and, perhaps, by her passion.
"Quite-hummmmpher-interesting," Ed said, his face red, his eyes not meeting Kitty's.
"I'll say," Anne Villurbanne muttered, raptly watching the big head of the chiefs member as it throbbed with anticipation.
"He'll hurt that poor girl," Kitty said. "He's so huge."
"I'll say," Anne said.
"The-ah-flexibility of the-er-ah-human vagina is-er-astounding," John Warner said in a somewhat choked voice.
"But he'll hurt her," Kitty said.
"I, ah, suggest that we do nothing to interfere," Ed said. "After all, when in Rome and all that."
"I didn't plan to interfere," Kitty said. "I just don't care to watch."
"They would, ah, be insulted," Warner said. "This is, after all, a celebration in our honor."
"And if we hadn't come they'd be having another kind of celebration, with poor One being basted in his own juices," Kitty said.
"Ah, well," Ed said. "We cannot, after all, change things so drastically without some, ah, preparation. I think E. C.'s long-range plan will go a long way toward eliminating this kind of thing."
"Ah-" Anne breathed, leaning forward.
The chief had moved. He took one step forward. The dark, supple girl was bent backward, her forehead touching the ground, her pussy wide open. The chief moved between her legs, put his strong arms down to cup her around her bent back, put the head of his massive member at her oiled opening.
"Ahhhhh," the entire tribe breathed, as the chief suddenly thrust his hugeness into the quivering body of the girl. The girl screamed and writhed. Kitty wanted to hide her face.
"Ummmmmph," Anne moaned, wiggling.
"He's hurting her," Kitty said.
"Oh, wow," Anne breathed, "I'll say!"
The girl writhed and her scream faded away and she began to move, bent backward in that fantastic position, her body seemingly about to be split by the hugeness of the chief. She writhed and moaned and the chief, standing between her legs, thrust and hammered and beat her with his hugeness and a small trickle of blood came out from the base of his huge penis, squeezed out of the stuffed cunt of the girl. Still she writhed and moaned and, suddenly, Kitty realized that the groaning was no longer pain.
"Ahhhhh! Whooooo!" the tribe moaned, as the girl got her rocks off and trembled and fell off the impaling bigness of the chief with a sigh to collapse onto the ground, spent. A great chant of thanksgiving went up. The first girl had been successfully deflowered.
The next girl in line was a tender-looking young thing with a thin body and small pointed breasts and a face contorted with what seemed to be a mixture of fear and anticipation. When the chief turned to her she looked at him, looked at his huge member, gleaming with the virgin blood and sexual juices of the first girl. She fainted. She swooned away. The tribe laughed. The chief picked her up, put her limp form on a waist-high structure of woven grass. He made some remark in his own language and the tribe laughed. The chief pulled the limp legs apart and stepped between them. There was no scream this time. He had to work his big rod in and out several times until he had it all the way in and still the girl did not regain her senses. More virgin blood joined the first stain on the chiefs huge member. He began to work in and out, taking long, long strokes. The girl suddenly lifted her head, made a strangled moan, began to beat her flat little rump up and down on the woven grass to meet the chiefs thrusts. She screamed once and her whole body seemed to convulse.
The third girl, stimulated by the sight of her two tribal sisters being deflowered, pulled the chief eagerly away from the girl lying on the woven grass structure. Grinning, licking her lips, she raised one leg, straddled the huge member of the chief, thrust the head of it into her creaming vagina and lifted herself on tiptoes. The chief put his hands on her nubile hips and lifted. She slid down onto his impaling member and moaned with pain and joy as he held her there, feet off the ground.
Nearby a toothless old hag grinned at Kitty. "She say it hurt good," the old woman said. "Chief much man."
"I'll say," Anne breathed, hardly able to keep still. She had crossed her legs and was swinging one rapidly, the movement teasing her clitoris in time with the excited girl's wiggling as she stayed impaled on the chiefs member. The girl raised her legs and clasped them around the chiefs waist, pulling her body down further onto the huge penis which seemed to almost split her small but well-rounded body. She moaned in great joy, after about two minutes, and let her head fall back weakly.
The chief took the fourth girl on the raised woven grass platform, lying down in a conventional position. It was apparent that he was growing tired or that he was, perhaps, near ejaculation. He gave her short strokes, so as not to use too much energy or stimulate his member with long, sliding, hot, even, wet, silky strokes into the mush of the young girl's body. He finished her and the good members of the tribe ooohed and whooooed in admiration.
"Chief much man," the toothless old hag said. "Other chiefs only take one, two maidens at a time."
"He is quite a man," Ed agreed, his eyes not leaving the push and pound of the great penis as it entered the body of the maiden.
However, as number five danced forward, the chief lay on his back on the grass platform and motioned her to get atop him.
"I think he's getting tired," Kitty said. The old woman heard.
"Still have enough juzzum for you, missy," the old hag said, laughing. "Wanta try chief?"
"No, thank you," Kitty said.
"She'd better not ask me if I want to try the chief," Anne said. "I might be tempted."
"Anne!" Kitty said. "Don't let them hear you say such things. They might do something terrible."
"I'm afraid they won't," Anne said, giggling.
The fifth girl was one of the more remarkable specimens. Long limbed, graceful, she had tightly compacted breasts with excited, stabbing nipples, a huge bush of pelvic hair, a tiny waist and big, child-bearing hips. The chief lay on his back. His phallus was erect, a meaty flagpole pointed toward the blue sky above. The girl knelt astraddle of the chiefs body. She put down both hands and clasped them around the chiefs member. Looking down, her face contorted by her emotion, she positioned herself above the huge pillar of passion. There was a mass intake of breath by the entire tribe. The view was spectacular. In the position in which the girl approached the chief, one could see the glans disappear into the flaps of the girl's vagina, could see her neat little buttocks spread to take the thrust of the member as she stabbed herself slowly with a long, drawn out sigh-Then she had to take one hand away as inches of the chief were wetted down and swallowed by her virgin body. She cried out. Yet she lowered herself, taking her other hand from between the converging bodies. She screamed out violently as she let her entire weight drive the huge pile deep into her. Virgin blood globbed the chiefs pubic hair. The girl, her face ashen, paused for a long, suspense-filled moment. Then she began a slow, sexy undulation of her hips.
"Ohhhhh," the chief groaned, rolling his eyes. The girl moved her hips fluidly, making small circles of desire with her loins, throbbing up inside, squeezing the chiefs huge, well stimulated member. The chiefs hips jerked.
"Ohhhhhhh," moaned the tribe.
The old lady, who had appointed herself as interpreter to the white people, -edged closer to them. "Chief gonna get rocks off," she chuckled. "He close."
"What then?" Anne asked, licking her lips. "What about the sixth girl?"
"She pick man to deflower her," the old woman said."
"You mean if the chief fails, then the girl can choose anyone she wants?" Kitty asked, interested in the quaint customs of the primitive people.
"Pick man with huge dong," the old woman said. "Bigger dong, more honor for girl."
I suppose she'd pick her lover, her boyfriend?" Kitty asked.
"Lose face," the old woman said, "Girl must be deflowered by outsider. No lover. No member of family. You dig?"
"I see," Kitty said. "How quaint."
"Only common sense," the old woman said. "Everyone know virgin pussy tight. Hurt man's dong."
"In our country," Kitty said, "men would fight for the chance to deflower a virgin."
"Crazy," the old woman said. "Here it is duty and honor to deflower girl for proper screwing later, but no man would volunteer for job, you dig?"
"I dig," Kitty said.
Meantime, the chief had seemingly lost all control. He was writhing under the wild spinning thrusts of the frenzied girl. He bucked and pushed his huge member deeper and deeper, his breath coming in great gasps. The tribe started chanting in time with their spirited lunges.
"Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh," the chant went. Kitty found herself nodding her head with the rhythm. Anne's legs were swinging as she stimulated her clit with squeezings.
The eyes of the chief rolled. "Ugga-boooga-ugga-chugga-somaa!" he screamed.
"What did he say?" Anne asked the old woman.
"He say, like wow," the old woman said.
"Ugga, errrrga, wugga!" the chief screamed, throwing herself upward, bending his body, lifting her loins to drive the girl high into the air, impaled on his member. Then the base of it, visible, began to swell and the girl began to croon and moan and laugh triumphantly.
"Girl happy," the old woman said. "She have fun and get all gravy and gain much face with tribe."
"Boy!" Anne whined, swinging her leg wildly, squirming. "Whee!"
"You like?" the old woman asked.
"Oh, boy!" Anne moaned.
"Too bad about you," the old woman said. "Whitey women not allowed. Ha. Ha."
"Arrrrrrrrg," the chief moaned, pumping his jissom high into the body of the squirming, moaning, crooning, laughing young girl. There was silence. The entire tribe was frozen, watching the pumpings of the chiefs huge phallus. Then it was over. The girl slumped, weakly. The chief lay as if dead. A great shout went up. The girl rose, letting the chiefs already limp member fall wetly against his thighs. Men leaped to the grass table, lifting the young girl to their shoulders. She was carried around the compound in triumph. Then the women ran to the chief. He, too, was lifted high and carried around the area. He waved and smiled weakly.
"He didn't lose face?" Kitty asked, interested, in an anthropological way.
"Lose face? Hell, whitey," the old woman said. "Chief just deflowered five virgins. Feat no chief every matched before."
"But they're treating the girl as a heroine," Kitty said.
"Glory cheap," the old woman said. "Plenty to go around." She spat a dark juice onto the ground, splattering Kitty's white shoes. "Glory and a dime buy you cuppa coffee. I was girl who milked chief down when I was deflowered. You believe?"
Kitty looked at the naked, stringy breasts, the skinny, bug-bitten frame, the wrinkles. "Of course," she said.
"Hey, look," Anne said. "I think the sixth girl is ready to pick the man who is going to deflower her."
The sixth girl, a thin but well-constructed child of, perhaps, twelve, was walking around the circle of watching tribesmen. As she walked past, men lifted their loinclothes to show her their development. All of the men had erections. Anne watched with hungry eyes. Kitty watched with an amazed interest. She'd never seen so many male organs at once. The variety was astounding. There were thick ones and thin ones and long ones and short ones and one with an odd growth of warts. There were stout ones and skinny ones and one or two to which some castastrophe had happened. The young girl, in her moment of glory, walked and swayed slowly, examining each phallus with care, licking her full lips with anticipation.
"Get ready," Anne whispered to John Warner, "she's coming your way."
John laughed.
He ceased laughing when the nubile girl stopped, naked and panting with her passion, in front of him and made and impatient gesture.
"Show dong," the old woman said.
"I dare say," Warner said, "I don't care to join in this, us, festival-I, uh-"
"Show dong," the old woman said, as a growl went up from the watching tribesmen, "or tribe is insulted. Girl has earned right to choose. Even Whitey must show dong."
"She won't actually choose you, John," Anne laughed. "Not with all those huge things available to her."
"When in Rome," John said, shrugging. He unbuttoned his shorts and pulled forth a tool which sent a gasp of astonishment around the circle. Anne's eyes boggled. Kitty gasped. The smiling little man showed a member only slightly shorter than the chiefs, and perhaps, a bit thicker at the base.
"My God," Anne gasped.
"Whitey hung," the old woman sighed.
The young girl's eyes widened. She bent forward. She touched Warner's member with one finger. It was hard. Kitty thought that was disgusting. Warner's tool jerked eagerly at the touch. The girl's eyes were admiring. But she had not completed the circle. She moved to stand in front of Ed. Ed looked at Kitty meekly and opened his fly. Kitty gasped in surprise. Ed's penis, too was erect. The girl gave it a respectful glance and completed the circle. John Warner started to put his tool away and then she danced back to stand in front of him and point. "You," the young girl said, smiling.
"Well," Warner said, looking around. "Well, well!"
"I suppose you must," Ed said.
"Well, if I must," Warner said, grinning. He rose. The girl began stripping away his clothing as the tribe laughed good naturedly. Naked, Warner allowed himself to be led to the ceremonial bed, the woven grass platform. The girl sat on the edge and reached out to toy with Warner's member. John leaned forward. The girl rolled onto her back, legs kicking in the air. Warner fell twixt her legs and hit a bulls eye. His big staff buried its head next to the mound of passion and went rooting as he threw himself into his work. The tribe howled approval and the young girl, after a faint, lady-like scream as her virgin membrane was punctured, lifted her hips and began to moan with delight.
While John rolled in lust with the sweet young girl, the tribe grew increasingly restive. The four girls who had been deflowered, grinning, proud, had latched onto their sweethearts and, while Warner did his duty, let the lusty young boys play with pointed breasts and stick fingers into well used vaginas, being stimulated and stimulating in return. The girl who had successfully milked down the chief was prancing around, showing off her lush body. Men patted her on the rump and reached for her and she slid away. Then John's conquest screamed out her passion and had a highly successful climax, if one judged by the action of her frenzied hips and the noise. John, having a wild ride, came and pumped and the great roar of approval almost deafened Kitty.
John lay atop the limp body of the young girl and Anne teetered back and forth, squeezing her clitoris between her thighs. Ed sat, a huge bulge showing his erection. Kitty felt a mild tingle of sexual interest. The tribe leaped to its feet and coupled off and what happened then made the visitors gasp. Men and women from about twelve to ninety began fornicating. Girls fell to the grass and pulled lusty boys atop them. Women spread their black, glistening legs and took black, glistening members into wet, hot crevices. Some hundred couples were suddenly and wildly engaged in the most frenzied fornicating imaginable and Anne, stimulated beyond endurance, rose to rush to join them. Old women blocked her way.
"No whitey women," they said, threateningly.
"Oooooh, ooooooh," Anne was moaning.
"Perhaps," Ed said, looking at his wife, "I'd better take her back to the flyer."
"I'll go, too," Kitty said.
"I, uh, think one of us should stay and watch," Ed said.
"Well, John's here."
"But he isn't, uh, watching."
John, as a matter-of-fact, had regained his erection and was throwing it to a young girl from the rear, she kneeling on hands and knees and turning her head to watch the lusty blows being delivered to her vagina from the doggie position.
"Well, if you think it's necessary," Kitty said.
She sat in isolated splendor and watched as a hundred couples writhed and twisted. She licked her lips and let the feeling of lust grow in her. It was normal, she thought, to be stimulated by the wild orgy.
Old women kept guard. They busted young girls, not yet deflowered, on the rumps as they tried to fornicate with young boys. Undeflowered girls sat in a circle around one wildly fornicating couple and masturbated, being careful not to penetrate their vaginas and, thus, risk loosing the membrane which would soon, earn them their moment of glory. Young boys beat their members furiously and at any given time a half dozen streams of young jisson were floating in the air, being pumped from hand-driven orgasms by the youngsters.
Some of the positions were incredible. One athletic couple stood on their heads, swaying feebly, bodies welded together by male organ penetrating female crevice. Multiple groups were forming. Two men filled one mature, writhing woman with meat. One thrust into her vagina, the other into her bung. The chief, revived, was switching partners wildly, throwing it to one girl for about three strokes, then jumping onto another.
When it became quite evident that no one was noticing her, Kitty decided that it was time to withdraw. She walked slowly back toward the flyer, a thought growing in her mind. Obviously Ed had been stimulated by the activity. He'd had a massive erection. She, too, was stimulated. So why waste it? She increased her pace. She opened the outside hatch of the flyer and discovered to her surprise that Ed and Ann Villurbanne had not even made it to the sleeping quarters. They were thrashing on the rug of the main solon, legs entwined, Ed's member buried deeply into Anne's brown-haired pelvic basket.
At first, Kitty was angry. Then she realized that she was being unreasonable. After all, the circumstances were unusual. No man could be expected to be virtuous when people were engaging in wild sex acts all around him. And that Anne had been so hot she was ready to crawl into the tribal orgy. So it was disgusting, but acceptable. She would not stop them. She stood inside the door, unnoticed, as Ed pumped wildly and her lust grew, seeing Ed's well-known penis bury itself into Anne's squirming body. She felt herself wetting her panties with passion juice and, when Anne suddenly bucked wildly and then froze into tense passion, knowing that the pretty, laughing little woman had had a climax made Kitty's passion turn into a careless lust. As Ed continued to pump into Anne's body, she ripped off her clothing and stepped forward. Anne saw her over Ed's working shoulder. Her eyes went wide, then became puzzled as she saw that Kitty was nude.
"All right," Kitty said, as callous as any whore, pulling on Ed's shoulder. "Save some for me, big boy?"
Ed jumped as if shot. He jerked out of Anne's vagina, his penis big and hard and wet with mutual passion juice. Anne didn't take time to explain or talk. She fell down onto the rug and pulled her husband atop her. His penis, oiled by its immersion in the charms of Anne Villurbanne, slid in wetly. Ed recovered from his surprise, and in his passion, accepted the new situation. Kitty didn't remember ever being so passionate. Having watched all the varied forms of sex as demonstrated by the tribe, she had lost all inhibition. She threw her legs high, pointing her toes toward the ceiling, luxuriating in the feel of a man in her. Ed knew her well. He knew how to ride her high so as to give maximum sensation to her clitoris. He knew that she liked being stroked long and hard, the penis being pulled all the way out and rammed back in suddenly, pushing her slick labia with it, making a portion of them go up inside her and be pulled almost painfully before the reverse stroke released them.
She was so passionate that she forgot, for a few torrid moments, that Anne was still with them. Then, suddenly, Anne reached out and put a soft hand on Kitty's left breast. Kitty jumped and opened her eyes but Anne merely squeezed, using knowing fingers to tease Kitty's erect nipple. It felt very, very good. Kitty closed her eyes and concentrated on sending her loins soaring up to meet the downward thrust of Ed's hips. And then heaven began to build in her and Anne, sensing it, bent to suck sweetly on the distended nipple of the left breast. Kitty moaned and pushed Ed's head to place his lips on the other breast. Thus, with one mouth, female, on her left breast, and another, male, on the right, with man hard and full and capable in her, she began to beat an inner drum of rhythm as she writhed and moaned and when Anne kissed her on the lips she was so near abandon that she parted her lips to take the wet kiss, put out her tongue to taste the sweetness of Anne's mouth, forgot that she'd never even come close to being so abandoned before. She'd known her husband and she'd had the one brief, flaming intercourse with Mark Hopkins, but she was, basically a conventional woman in the old sense. Yet there she was, stretched out, legs spread as wide as she could fling them, impaled by a man, kissing the mouth of a woman she'd just seen in heated intercourse with her husband, liking it, taking all of Anne's lips and tongue she could and reaching out to feel Anne's taut little breasts as she began to feel the approaching storm of loveliness.
"God, I'm so hot!" Anne moaned, as she kissed Kitty's lips.
"Yessssss," Kitty moaned, knowing how she felt.
"I gotta have something!" Anne said. "Yessssssss," Kitty said, not knowing, not fully aware.
Then, before she realized what she was doing, she had her mouth deep in Anne's freshly used womanhood, tasting the spice of passion, the slick, not unpleasant juices which made the flesh feel strangely erotic and sweet to her lips. Anne, with one quick movement, had straddled Kitty's head, had thrust her wetness down onto Kitty's mouth and Kitty, almost wild with her nearing orgasm, had kissed and now she was pushing her tongue out tentatively to feel the springiness of the entrance to Anne's very womanhood.
"Oh, wonderful," Anne moaned, setting up a back and forth rocking movement which wetted Kitty's face from nose to chin with passion juice from Anne's thrill-packed softness.
"Oh! Oh! Here I go!" Anne called out, getting wilder. Kitty felt with her tongue the inner poundings of the giant orgasm and then she burst like a ripe melon inside and went wild herself, sucking on Anne's slick, wet labia as she pounded and felt Ed's big tool pause, swell and explode.
Still nude, they sat and reclined on the rug, looking at each other with a bit of wonder and some guilt.
"Ah, unexpected as it was," Ed said, "I, uh, have to say that I'm not sorry."
; "Gee," Anne said, "I don't know what got into me. It was all those buggers screwing out there, I guess."
"I believe," Kitty said, "it would be safe to say that we got carried away."
There was a silence. Finally it was Anne who broke it. "I'm like Ed, " she said. "I can't say I'm sorry it happened. I sure hope you aren't angry, Kitty."
Kitty shook her head. Strangely enough, she felt no strong emotion at all. She had always thought, when she thought about it at all, that Ed was a chaste man, that he did not triffle. In the early days of her marriage she had sometimes wondered how she would feel if he found some other woman who excited him and went to bed with her. Now she'd seen him actually in the sexual act with a woman and she wasn't fitful or jealous about it. "No," she said, "I'm not angry."
"Look," Anne said, "maybe I'm a little out of line, but I think this is a good time to find out, while we're all like this." She indicated their nakedness. "We're going to be together for a few more days on this small ship. What if we get the urge to do something like this again?"
Ed cleared his throat. He didn't speak. He looked at Kitty. She saw the question in his eyes. Kitty shrugged. "Why don't we just take it as it comes?" she asked. And she wondered why she felt that she really wouldn't care if Ed and Anne had sex together again.
CHAPTER FIVE
John Warner was carried back to the flyer by two husky young native girls who giggled and flipped his very, very limp penis as the three who were already aboard helped put him inside. Then the girls ran off to rejoin the still-functioning tribal orgy and Kitty and Anne helped Ed put John into the decontamination chamber. Ed turned oxygen into the chamber, along with the vapors which would kill all foreign bugs, such as the syphilis spirochette which John was sure to have picked up during his participation in the orgy with the backward tribesmen. Kitty felt dirty and had a shot or two of decon herself after she'd taken a bath.
With the small black baby aboard, a baby they referred to simply as One, they set out toward the northeast. Hours later, the flyer landed on automatic at a place called Gamal on the Gulf of Aden. They were met by a delegation of local gentry headed by a fat, smiling man in a traditional costume which swaddled all but his nose and eyes in white, dingy cloth. The friendly Arab offered them wine and dates and took them in an air-conditioned ground car to his palace where a dozen lightly clad dancing girls did a fantastic belly dance which had Ed and John Warner hanging on the ropes even before the girls threw away the last vestige of clothing and undulated in the nude, pushing their taut, muscular bellies into the faces of the two Western male guests.
Ed explained, at last, that their timetable prevented their staying, much as they'd like to. Kitty thought he sounded much too sincere about it, that he was very much turned on by the pretty, dark-skinned dancing girls. John said he'd stay and talk to the dancing girls, purely in the interest of anthropological research, while the rest of them went to the slave compound to take possession of the infant who would be known only as Two. The fat Arab laughed knowingly, but Ed, probably thinking that if he didn't get to talk to the dancing girls then neither was John, said that would not do and a disgruntled Warner traipsed after them to pick up the smelly little boy from a sexy young slave girl who tried to vamp the men into taking her along, since she was the child's mother.
Now there were two infants in the nursery aboard the flyer. The flyer soared across the Arabian Sea. Below them, the vastness of the Indian subcontinent spread. After a brief struggle with democracy, India had regressed to a totalitarian dictatorship, beset on the northeast by Chinese border raiders, embattled on the northwest with the religious war with Pakistan, a war which had dwindled into senseless raids and killings due to a lack of power on both sides to wage all-out war. Millions were starving. Millions were being born to starve and near Agra, in the very shadow of the beautiful Taj Mahal, Kitty scooped up Three, the third infant, a brown-skinned little boy with a protruding belly indicating malnutrition. On the evening of the second day of their journey, the flyer rested in a ruined square in a holy city in the Southeast Asian jungles. The fourth infant was two hours away, through jungle. The local contacts offered the hospitality of the village which was built on the site of an ancient city. With nothing more to do, the four Westerners went forth into a weird setting.
Grass huts were built on tile courtyards. Pigs roamed through the ruins of beautiful, antique buildings ravaged by earthquake and the spreading roots of the encroaching jungle. The tour was a fascinating one for them, especially when they entered what the guide described as the Forbidden City. It was, or had been, a city devoted to love. Erotic art festooned every protruding rock, decorated every ancient stele and every standing wall. The guide, a wizened old man who spoke English very haltingly, led them into a building a bit less ruined than the rest. Fantastic sculptures lined the hall. Men and women were frozen in stone in all the positions of love. Women and various beasts were captured in intimate positions. An ass buried his stone phallus in the body of a stone girl lying on a stone bench. A tiger mounted the voluptuous buttocks of a fat matron, his phallus extended and entering the vagina of the statue. The various positions of oral sex were graphically illustrated and some of the positions for intercourse could only be accomplished by sexual athletes. Anne was enraptured. John Warner was very interested. Ed said, um, and ah. Kitty was pleased by the beautiful, innocent manner of presentation of the most intimate human relationships.
Ahead of them there was light. Flickering wooden torches lit a huge room barren of all save one stone figure on a raised, altar-like platform. Around the platform were people, men and woman and young girls. A priest, or someone who spoke in chant-like tones much like a priest, was standing on the platform.
"What's this?" Ed asked.
"Worship God," the old man said. "God of Love."
They found positions. In front of the group of villagers seated on the stone floor were two young maidens, dressed in loose, flowing gowns. The priest directed his chanting directly toward the two girls.
"Girls take mate," the old man said. "Must pay homage to God of Love. Have many babies."
"Fertility rite," Ed said. "Very interesting."
They found a spot and knelt on the floor. The villagers, all well formed people, a rather beautiful race, small, yellow skinned and delicate, began to sway with the rhythm of the priest's chant. The two young girls rose, shrugged their pretty shoulders, letting the loose gowns flow to the floor and lie there as they took one graceful step to stand in the nude before the stone figure on the platform. In the flickering light, Kitty could see that the seated figure was draped with a golden cloth.
The two girls began to pace with swaying, dancing steps, moving up and down the ranks of the seated people. Hands came out to touch them. Hands, female, and male, pressed their young, taut breasts, pushed between their legs to stroke the silken crotches, to wind fingers into pubic hair and push gently on clitoris.
"You know," Anne said, "I think maybe we were born in the wrong country. These cats seem to have all the fun."
The girls were in the midst of the still seated crowd. Men leaned to kiss their stomachs. Women caressed their intimate parts. A young man held one of the girls, his hands behind her nude hips, used his nose to force her legs apart, and thrust his tongue into her slit. She moaned aloud and wiggled her hips.
When both girls were obviously excited, faces flushed, breath coming in panting gasps, the priest came to lead them away from the caressing hands and eager lips of the people. He took them to the platform. He let his hands know the bodies of each of the young girls. He thrust his fingers into the vaginas of the girls, each in turn. They writhed and tried to effect deeper penetration. Then, with a flourish, the priest threw aside the golden cloth. In the flickering light there appeared a huge, smooth, stone phallus. It stood up from the lap of the seated, carved stone figure. It rose from the junction of the figure's thighs and legs and there, at that point, the thighs were narrowed, making a saddle-like seat with the huge phallus in the center.
The first girl swayed and undulated to the stone figure. She threw one leg high, straddling the legs of the figure. She seized the stone phallus with her hands. She placed her passion-wet womanhood on the tip of the huge phallus and began to circle her hips, taking the stone thing into her body as she lowered herself. Six inches disappeared. The crowd was silent, breathing hard. Another inch went into the soft, hot body of the young girl. Then she moaned and writhed and screamed with pain. She could take no more.
"Very good," the old man who was their guide said. "She has done well."
The girl rose. She walked with a twitch of pain to kneel before the priest. The second girl took her place on the seat of the stone idol. She performed as had the first girl, lowering herself onto the stone phallus slowly, squirming, moaning with pain and passion as the huge hardness filled her. The people moaned with her and sighed with a collective breath when she absorbed seven inches of the huge phallus and then withdrew.
"Both girls did well, I take it," Ed said to the old man.
"Very good," the old man said.
"I would have thought they could take it all," Anne said, "it's only about nine inches."
"Western woman think she could do better?" the old man asked.
"Of course," Anne said simply.
"Haiii," the old man yelled. The crowd, which had begun to congregate around the two young girls, as if to congratulate them, was quiet. The old man rattled off something in his own language and the crowd made a sound. The priest came forth, a frown on his face.
"Priest say you live up to big talk," the old man grinned, looking at Anne. "He say you try God of Love."
"Why can't you learn to keep your big mouth shut?" Kitty asked her friend.
"Come," the priest said. Anne grinned, shrugged and stepped forward. "Come," the priest said, waving to Kitty.
"Oh, no," Kitty said. "I have nothing to do with this."
"You come," the priest said. "You pay homage to God."
"Ed-" Kitty wailed, looking at her husband. The crowd, sensing her reluctance, made an ugly sound.
"You better go," the old man said. "You insult our women. You prove you can take all prick of God of Love."
"But I didn't-" Kitty said desperately.
The crowd moved toward her, threateningly. "I'm sorry, darling," Ed said.
Four young girls removed their clothing. Kitty felt numb. She looked at Anne. The crazy fool was enjoying it. Nude, Anne thrust out her pelvis and did a little bump and grind. The men in the crowd grinned approvingly.
"Listen, you buggers," Anne said. "I demand equal conditions. Your girls had themselves all worked up before they stuck that stone thing in them."
The priest nodded. He stepped to the platform and came back with two delicate crystal and gold goblets in his hand. "You drink," he ordered. Kitty drank. The liquid was sweet and it had a sting. There was only a swallow. It went down, warmed her stomach.
"What is it?" Anne asked.
"You drink," the priest ordered. "Make you loving."
"An aphrodisiac?" Kitty asked, thinking dire things about kidney irritation and other unpleasant conditions brought about by the use of primitive love potions.
"Very good," the priest said. Anne drank. She stepped forward and thrust her pelvis, into the face of a kneeling youth. "Go, man," she said. The boy stuck out his finger and traced a light, delicate touch down her belly to her pubic hair. She writhed. Another boy reached out, put his hands on her breasts.
Kitty felt strange hands at her ankles. A pretty young girl was stroking her feet, smiling up encouragingly. Male hands found her stomach and rubbed. She closed her eyes. She was surrounded by people and the drink was causing a bit of momentary dizziness. She felt a finger go into her slit, between her labia, and toy with her opening gently. The touch of lips on her buttocks caused her to sway, then sway back. It was strange and eerie, but they were so gentle, so knowing. Fingers teased her nipples into two points of passion. For a moment, she had misgivings. She was just an ordinary housewife. She had four children. How did she come to be in the midst of a Cambodian sex orgy with dozens of people, male and female, feeling her body in every intimate part? She thought that there had to be some mistake, that she would awaken and find that it was only a dream.
But she wasn't dreaming that a pretty young girl was putting her smiling face into her lap, that hands were forcing her legs apart and lips were kissing, kissing her womanhood. It was so voluptuous a feeling and she was so relaxed. Either the drink she had taken was having an effect or she was a hopeless wanton, eager for the caresses, for the oral sex, for the finger which eased gently into her vagina as the lips withdrew. She told herself that it was the drink and let herself go, let her hips undulate, let her body soak up the miriad touches, the lips, the gentle hands. She felt herself sinking down, down, down into the jungle of lust. She thrust her pelvic bone out to take the thrust of tongue on her clitoris. She wiggled. She swayed. A youth stood, pressed his hard penis into the crack of her rump. She felt the heat of it. There was a drop of passion on the tip of it which wetted her anus. She put her hand back, seized the hot, fleshy tube, tried to thrust it into her. The youth withdrew.
Slowly, slowly, she was being guided toward the platform. Anne was ahead of her. She opened her eyes and watched as Anne stood over the huge stone penis and lowered herself. Hands continued to stimulate her. Anne went down, down, the huge thing disappearing into her body, writhing, moaning. Six inches, seven inches, eight inches. She struggled. She tried to take the last, huge inch. She cried out in frustration and withdrew. The crowd yelled. She had bested the girls. Then she withdrew, faint, grinning happily. Hands reached for her, patted her, praised her.
Then Kitty, body aflame from the continued stimulation of a hundred hands, was kneeling over the huge phallus. She looked at it. It was smooth. It gleamed with the inner lubrication of the women who had mounted it before her. It was huge. Her heart pounded. She couldn't take it, she knew. But then, she had nothing to prove. She touched it. It was so smooth, as if lubricated by the vaginas of centuries of young girls. It was quite realistic. The head of it was carved to have a definite ridge. There was a little eye in it. There was a big vein along the underside. She stroked it. She put her body atop it. She felt it touch the lips of her well-lubricated vagina. It was hot, as if it were warmed by an inner heat. She let the huge, spreading head of it enter her and she sighed, for she was passionate. She lowered herself. It was wide, thick. It filled her. But so good! She lowered herself. She was a small, thin woman with well shaped, small breasts, small waist, small hips. She was splitting herself on the huge thing which filled her. She was lust, itself, embodied in ninety-seven pounds of Western woman, stimulated by an ancient aphrodisiac and by the knowledgeable hands and lips of a cult of Love God worshippers.
She felt herself expand. She felt as if she were woman eternal, woman on man, being filled, being satisfied. She moaned and the crowd moaned with her. for her initial efforts had taken six huge inches of the phallus into her small body. The crowd thought, in view of her tininess, that she had done the impossible. Still she moved, hips swaying, circling, thighs clasping the thighs of the stone idol, lowering, lowering. The crowd moaned with her. Ed started to step forward, thinking to rescue her before she injured herself.
But she was a woman possessed. It was as if the spirit of the ancient Love God had entered her, piling lust atop lust as she squirmed, rose and fell, using her body weight to thrill herself with the entry of the smooth, hot stone. An incredible seven inches disappeared into her. Her vagina was stuffed. She felt near splitting. Yet she went down, up and down, taking the love into her body with a passion which was not to be denied.
Eight inches. There was a roar of approval. They expected her to stop.
She was near explosion. She felt that she had to take all of it, have it inside her, all the heat and the hard smoothness. With a gasp, she dropped her feet from under her. She cried out, but it was a cry of love as the ninth inch spread her wide, the hard tip pushing aside things far up inside her. She moaned and began to squirm. At the base of the stone phallus a smooth protrusion pressed home. She had earned it. It was pressed tightly against her thrilled clitoris and she was oblivious of all save her lust, the huge, hard prick of stone inside her and the vast bodily need for release.
In awed silence the crowd watched. She writhed and squirmed and then, with a vast, moaning sigh, she achieved climax and throbbed and pulsed and fell, in a faint, from the figure. They picked her up with gentle hands and carried her reverently to a soft couch. Hands touched her, caressed her. She woke. Wild passion filled her. Her heart was pounding. She saw hard pricks near her face. She turned to kiss the nearest, taking it into her mouth, sucking on it, tasting the clear secretion of male passion. She jammed it into her throat.
Anne, having tried unsuccessfully to mount a young boy, was watching in awe. She'd been told that actual intercourse was forbidden. But she was still hot with the aphrodisiac and with the remembered feel of the huge stone phallus inside her. Now she watched Kitty as the small, blond woman stuffed a living rod into her mouth and reached for two more with her hands.
Kitty felt flesh. Man in her mouth. Man in each hand. She wanted man in her. She wanted to be loved in all possible ways. She told them.
"It is forbidden," the priest told her kindly. "Even though you have proven yourself to be a reincarnation of a Love Goddess, actual penetration of the vagina by man's prick is forbidden at our worship."
"But I'm so hot!" Kitty wailed. "Do something!"
The priest nodded. A penis was inserted into Kitty's mouth. Two penises were back in her hands. A pretty young girl fell on her knees and pushed her mouth against Kitty's creaming vagina and frenzied activity brought a gush of semen into Kitty's sucking mouth, a hot, starchy flow which she swallowed in her extremes of lust. Then she peaked, a hot, pounding climax which left her momentarily satisfied.
Anne, who had reached her own climax with the help of a young man well-versed in oral sex, was reluctant when Kitty, clutching her hand, insisted that they leave. They found Ed and John playing with the charms of two youthful girls, trousers extended by huge erections.
"I want to go home," Kitty said, still dazed, still not able to believe what had happened.
They went into the decontamination chamber together, nude.
"That was potent stuff," Anne said, soaping herself with vigor, rubbing her clitoris. "I'm still so hot I could play with myself."
Kitty was silent.
"Kitty?"
"Ummm."
"Remember after the deal in Africa with the three of us when we said we'd let things happen as they came?"
"I remember," Kitty said, a sudden return of sensuality flooding her.
"Well, listen, I think it's time for something to happen."
"All right," Kitty said.
"You don't mind?"
"No. Go ahead." Kitty, still bemused, was thinking that Anne was considering going to bed with John Warner.
They were dried in a heated steam of air. Kitty went to her stateroom, body still atingle with passion. Ed would soon be there. She threw her robe aside, lay down. Her pubic hair was still slightly moist with the perfumed liquid of the docon chamber. She closed her eyes, willing Ed to come to her, willing him to insert his living prick into her and satisfy the desperate hunger which was there. When she heard him at the door she didn't open her eyes. She altered her position to a more seductive pose, legs open to show her blonde pussy. She heard his step. She felt the bed give under his weight.
She felt a hand on her stomach, pressing, soothing. She heard his breathing. He was excited, too. She felt his lips on her breast and the nip of tiny teeth. It was quite unlike Ed's usual method. She opened her eyes and looked down to the blonde hair on top of the head of John Warner. She felt a swift jolt of shock, but it was mixed with so strong a sense of lust that she was frightened.
"John, what?"
"God, you're beautiful, Kitty," he whispered. "I want to kiss you and hold you and-" She sighed. "Ed and Anne?"
"In her room," he said.
She put her hand behind his head and pressed his face into her breast. Little jolts of electric excitement went through her. She reached for his penis. It was hard and ready. She pictured Ed with Anne, burying his own penis in Anne's eager body. She pushed the skin back and forth on John's rod and felt it throb.
"Now," she whispered. "Screw me, John."
He crawled between her out-flung legs. She held his penis and stabbed herself with it, humping up to send it deep on the first entry. A sobbing cry of joy escaped her lips.
"Hit me hard, John," she whispered. "Screw me hard!" Beautiful, beautiful man in her. Lovely cascades of lust. She pulled her knees high, held them alongside her ribcage. The position opened her, let him penetrate to her very womb. Her body went wild. She bucked and cried out and swirled her hips and the climax which was the result was so good she sobbed with joy and wanted him to come in her forever as he filled her with hot spurts of his passion. Then she kissed his relaxed rod into new awareness and mounted him to continue the wanton, lustful release of her completely freed libido.
CHAPTER SIX
It is strange, Kitty thought, how you wake up in the morning and remember things and it's almost as if they hadn't happened. Some time during the night John Warner had left her bed and Ed had come into it. Ed rose early, as usual, and was out of the room when Kitty woke.
The pretty native girls delivered the small Chinese baby to the flyer that morning. Four, his only name, was the son of a refugee from totalitarian China. Treated with contempt by the natives, who hated the Chinese and suffered them to live only so long as they stayed in their deep jungle villages, little Four was to represent the massive millions of yellow people in Muleholtzen's grand plan.
Five was a tiny Israeli Jew, smuggled aboard the flyer in the dead of the night from enslaved Tel Aviv. The bloody God of the Jews had once again delivered his people into captivity. The nation of Israel was a slave-quarter for the United Arab Nations.
While waiting for Five to be delivered, Kitty leaned her rump against the wall of the engine room, where she'd lured John Warner, and lifted her skirt to show that she had no panties. John, opening his shorts, inserted himself into her standing and strained and humped into Kitty's wildly spasming vagina. Totally wanton, she knelt and licked the remaining drops of semen from his member.
Six and Seven were gathered in short order. Six was a blonde baby from the ruins of Germany, recently redevastated by the Russians, who had to create a new German enemy every twenty years in order to help control their vast masses of disgruntled people. Seven was an American slum baby, plucked out of a rat-infested hole from the arms of a slut of a mother who was high on the latest drug and who didn't even miss him.
The four-member team returned to Muleholtzen University with seven babies: a black African rescued from the cook pot, an Arabian slave, a starving Indian, a Chinese outcast, an Israeli slave, a German war orphan and an American slum child. There was a full meeting of the group gathered by Muleholtzen.
"We have gathered these infants from far points," Muleholtzen said. "They make a squalling, squirming group of humanity." The babies were in cribs lined up behind the great man and it was true that there was a certain amount of squalling and squirming. "Yet, insignificant as they may seem, they will be our instrument to save the world."
Kitty was incredulous.
"Together," Muleholtzen, "you and I are going to remodel these infants. We are going to make super-beings of them. We are going to drive out human pettiness, greed, sordidness, bigotry, ego, pride and selfishness. We are going to pump into each little head the wisdom of Solomen, the humility of Jesus Christ, the patience of Buddha, the honesty of Lincoln. In short, we are going to remove all that is humanly small and instill all that is humanly devine."
As Muleholtzen talked, it became clear to his audience that the great man had, indeed, had an inspiration. Enthusiasm replaced doubt. Muleholtzen and his helpers would change the world.
The idea was a simple one and was based soundly on the foundation of human nature. It could be expressed in several ways. The best government is a benevolent dictatorship. Man desires to submit to authority. Man hungers throughout his life for the security he enjoyed as a small child when his father made all decisions.
In the beginning, when man first began to gather, he choose a chief. He erected a high place and put on it one of himself, as if by raising his fellow man to the heights he could lift himself. The most natural form of government, in early civilizations, was the divine king, a man like other men whom men elevated to rule and then to godship.
Muleholtzen would use these basic urges in men to bring order to a world gone mad. The stars called to man and man bogged himself down in parlor gymnastics and multiplied like rodents to the point of saturation. Man involved himself in backyard wars and was more concerned over a few feet of living space than with Mars or Alpha Bootis. Raw materials were being used up at an alarming rate. Man had to lift himself off the overcrowded earth before he used up the very materials which were necessary to do so. When it was difficult to produce enough food to feed humanity, it was impossible to build space ships and to develop the technology which was necessary to build an engine which would push man out of his sterile solar system to the stars and habitable planets.
Muleholtzen said that since there seemed to be an overall plan to the actions of the universe, he was convinced that the fertility of man was a part of his plan. Man, said Muleholtzen, was meant to people the universe. Out there were numberless suns with habitable planets and after our galaxy there were others, extending off into infinity. Only if man were intended to populate the entire universe did his breeding habits make sense, for he had long since overcrowded his own small planet. It was Muleholtzen's ultimate goal to send the vast starships flashing outward laden with thousands, millions of unwanted people, freeing the earth from the sheer weight of people, spreading mankind through the lightyears and the endless suns.
Cynics said man was a virus infection which had ruined a perfectly good planet and that the infection should be kept localized and be allowed to die. Most people, however, were indifferent to such lofty theories and cared only for the three F's, fucking, feeding and fighting. Man had become so engrossed with his own selfish desires that he'd forgotten the overall design. The early idealism of the space program had carried man to a landing on the moon. However, others had won the next round. Space money was cut to a dwindle which barely amounted to enough to maintain the computers at Houston. Until Muleholtzen invented the new, economical power system which cut the cost of rocketry by more than half, no man saw the earth as a ball in space. No ships roared up from the Cape to carry man's frail hopes outside the more and more dense pollution of the earth's atmosphere.
The young, idealistic Muleholtzen had gone into the space program with his inventive genius only to find the world was in the grips of a new isolationism which was even more terrible than that which, so many years ago, had allowed World Wars Two and Three.
"We've been to the moon," the voice of the people seemed to cry. "We found it to be a dead, useless planet. Why, then, should we spend billions to go to Mars?"
Muleholtzen tried to explain it. First Mars, then far Antares and a new hope for the entire race. Congress cut back the space agency appropriation to a point where even a trip to Mars would take decades. Muleholtzen lost his idealism and became a pragmatist. He had seemingly lost interest in space when he entered medicine and then built Muleholtzen University. In reality, he was still aiming for space, but with a different arsenal of weapons. Now his weapons were seven tiny human beings who cried and kicked and blinked in seven cribs behind him on the stand.
He would make the seven infants judges of men.
It was such a preposterous idea that it just might work.
Man, who, it seemed, always needed a guide, would be provided with seven infallible leaders devoid of ambition, nationalism, prejudice and all the other ails of humanity. Muleholtzen's seven wise men would be incubated in an atmosphere not only free of germs but free, also, of all the ancient ills of humanity. With the aid of infinitely intelligent computers and the army of super-intellects collected by Muleholtzen on the pretext of establishing a university the seven wise men would have at their disposal all the knowledge and the wisdom of the race.
"It's so crazy," Kitty White told her husband, "that it just might work."
"The man has something," Mark Hopkins told his assistant and mistress, Dinah Russell.
"I like it," Anne Villurbanne said, as she went to bed happily with John Warner.
"You mean I gotta stay here the rest of my life?" young Catherine White asked, indignantly, when she was informed of Muleholtzen's great plan.
For the university was, had already become, an impregnable fortress cut off from the bedlam of everyday life in the outside world. And, as time went on, those intimately involved in the rearing and training of the seven wise men would become even more isolated.
The Incubator, as it came to be called, was a walled castle within the outer walls of the university. Into the Incubator went those original staff members who had been called to Muleholtzen's home on that first night. Each member of the team had a function. Each member of the team had been allowed to bring his family. Not one of them choose to reject the offer to become a part of Muleholtzen's great experiment.
In the White family, the younger members, Fred, Lee and Gina, made no great protest. Inside the fortress within a fortress there were any number of things designed for the amusement of children of their age. Nor were they alone. Other members of the staff had brought families and children. However, young Catherine White, just fourteen, was a member of a definite minority group. There was a shortage of teenage boys and, upon discovering this, Catherine asked her question: "Do I have to stay here the rest of my life?"
"I understand," Muleholtzen said to Kitty one day, "that you have a small rebellion on your hands."
Kitty, dressed in a clean gown, lowered the mask from her face. She'd been inside the Room. Seven infants of varying colors were healthy and kicking. There were at least five learned men for each of the small boys, men qualified to treat and diagnose anything from diaper rash to a split personality. Kitty was in charge of a peculiar function which could only be described as a sort of motherhood. John Warner, chief among the head doctors, thought that love and warmth was most important to a baby. As a result, Kitty and her staff of three women used a carefully scheduled technique of holding and fondling on each of the seven young future wise men.
Kitty had just held Two and Five, the little Arab and the little Jew, for ten minutes each. "Rebellion?" she asked.
"Your daughter," Muleholtzen said.
"Ah, yes," Kitty said. "She wants to go out."
"You realize that if you allow this she will not be allowed to reenter?"
It was a rule. The environment of the wise men was to be rigidly controlled. The inner fortress had been hermetically sealed away from the world. Airlocks allowed the entry of supplies. But no man could enter. In cases of emergency, a person could leave the Incubator area, but Muleholtzen had made it quite clear that if one chose to leave, there would be no coming back.
"Yes, I know," Kitty said. "I've told her the rules. She has not made up her mind definitely that she wants to go out. After all, she's only fourteen-"
"So young," Muleholtzen said.
"Too young to turn loose in the world," Kitty said, "even the world of the university." She sighed and put the mask away, pulled out of the white, ankle length sanitary gown and hung it inside a sterilizer for future use. "I'm just not ready to let her go. She's my oldest child and you're always a pit partial to the first one, I think."
"Perhaps I can help," Muleholtzen said.
"Oh?"
"I'll talk with her. Perhaps I can impress upon her the importance of our mission here. Perhaps I can make her see that since the future of the world rests within these walls it would not be a bad place to invest her own personal future."
"It might help," Kitty said. She knew Muleholtzen to be a very persuasive man. His dedication impressed people. Perhaps he could even convince Catherine that the world wouldn't end just because the only teenage boys inside the incubator had pimples. She went home to the spacious apartment which had been assigned to her family to find Ed working, as usual. As head of the medical department, directly responsible for the health of the young wise men, Ed took his job seriously. She said "hi" to him. He nodded, not looking up from his desk. She found her second child, Fred, in the workshop building a model of the last Apollo moon rocket and the two girls, Lee and Gina, were in the pool, both nude as little jaybirds, diving and splasing. Lee, at ten, was beginning to show that enlargement of the nipple which presages breast growth. Gina was thin and agile and showed no indication yet, of her coming puberty. Catherine, the object of the search, was harder to find. Kitty finally located her in the bedroom suite, packing a bag.
"Catherine?" Kitty asked, standing inside the doorway, her heart turning sadly. She was saddened by the knowledge that her daughter had, evidentally, decided to leave them.
"Don't try to talk me out of it, Mother," Catherine said.
"Have you thought it through?" Kitty said.
"Yes," Catherine said, her voice sharp, belligerent.
"You'll be alone," Kitty said.
"No," Catherine said. "I'll have other people like me."
"We're not people like you?"
"You're family," Catherine said.
"And we love you. We'll miss you. We'll never get to see you again."
"We can talk on the videophone."
"I could stop you, you know," Kitty said.
"Sure," Catherine agreed. "You could, now. But what about tomorrow? You can't keep your eyes on me forever. I could slip out through the disposal chute-"
"I believe in the right of the individual to make his own decisions," Kitty said. "I would not force my decision on you. You know that. But will you at least give me a chance to-"
"Mother," Catherine said, her voice emotional, turning to face her mother with tears in her eyes. "We've talked and talked. You know how I feel. I'm all alone here. There's no one my age and I'll grow up an old maid and-"
"There Ralph Proto-"
"That's rich," the young girl said. "That schmuck. He's queer as-"
"There are others. Some of the younger boys and girls. A year or so makes a lot of difference now, but when you're twenty and they're eighteen-"
"Oh, shit," Catherine said.
"All right," Kitty said. "If you've made up your mind. But before I give my concent I insist on one thing. Dr. Muleholtzen wants to talk with you about your decision. You're to make an appointment with him and then you're to listen to him carefully."
"Calling in the Marines, huh?" Catherine said, with a fine contempt. "It won't do you any good."
"But you will do as I say in this small matter," Kitty said, "or I'll have you chained to the bedpost so that you'll have to stay here."
"Big deal," Catherine said.
But she called Muleholtzen's office. To her surprise, she was allowed to speak with the great man himself. He told her that he did want to see her and talk with her, but that he was a very busy man and would have to ask her to come to his suite after the press of the work day was over, say, ten o'clock?
She agreed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
To Catherine White, Dr. Effinbane E. C. Muleholtzen was one of the old people. Actually, he was only thirty-seven. He was tall, thin, had a full head of off-black hair which tended to curl over his large ears and which was in need of trimming. He had brown eyes and a complexion which showed scars of adolescent acne. His face could not have been called handsome, but there was something warm and sensuous about it. He almost never smiled a full smile but turned on an almost boyish half-smile often. He spoke with a soft, Southern voice without offending accent but with no trace of Yankee harshness.
When one of Muleholtzen's special assistants, a lithe brunette, showed Catherine White into Muleholtzen's study, he was dressed in grey slacks and a blue work shirt which had been carefully laundered. He rose and smiled that boyish half-smile of his. "I'm glad you could come, Catherine," he said.
Catherine sat down in an overstuffed chair. She knew that Muleholtzen didn't know her from any of the other younger people in the incubator and she was defiant. "With all respect, sir, you don't have to pretend that you know me."
Muleholtzen looked down at her musingly.
"Oh, but I do. I've noticed you quite often. I'm struck now, as always, with the likeness you show to your beautiful mother."
"I'll pass along the compliment," Catherine said.
"Charming," Muleholtzen said. "I admire spirit in the young."
"Dr. Muleholtzen," Catherine said. "I know why I'm here. I'm here because my mother thinks that you can change my mind about getting out of here. I think you should know that you can't. Now I know you're a busy man, so why don't we just say goodbye now and you can tell mother that you tried."
"All right," Muleholtzen said. He took two or three backward steps. Catherine rose, uncertain. She turned toward the door. She took a step and looked at Muleholtzen.
"But you're just a little bit curious about what I was going to say, aren't you?" he asked.
Catherine grinned. There was a sly warmth about the man. "I'll have to admit that I was wondering if you'd come on like the Establishment regarding my duty to mother, home and country and the great experiment."
"I'd come on somewhat like that," Muleholtzen said. "But I'm sure your mother would live without you. She has her work, after all. She knows that she is a part of something which can make a vast difference in this screwed-up world of ours."
Catherine had her hand on the doorknob. The use of the phrase, screwed-up, did not startle her. It had a somewhat calming effect. In the world of the young, words had lost their ability to shock. To describe the basic anatomical function of coupling, the word was a good one. Catherine's parents, being old-fashioned to a marked degree, didn't use such words in polite conversation. The fact that Muleholtzen could use the word without smirking impressed Catherine.
"Look," she said, "I'm not saying that your work here isn't worthwhile. I'm not going to try to make a value judgment on something I don't even understand. It's just that I don't feel as if it's my thing to stay here the rest of my life."
"With old squares," Muleholtzen said, smiling.
"You said it," Catherine said, "I didn't."
"But that's it, isn't it?"
"Young people belong together," Catherine said.
"Why?"
"Well, because-" She paused.
"There was a time," Muleholtzen said, "when young people thought they had to be together to change the world for the better. There was even a time, back during the sick sixties, when they could have been a force for improvement. There was a segment of the society which was tired, effete, willing to abdicate a position of responsibility. Learned college professors turned over their lecturns to the young. Administrators allowed anarchy in the guise of improvement of social conditions. For a while, a segment of the young people in this country had an opportunity to blaze new trails and they blazed them, all right, right straight to the nearest place to use hallucinatory drugs and indulge their sexual urges and fall prey to the first cynical, mature organizer who came along. The youth, alienated from the mainstream of the country, became sheer bums. There was an entire generation which lost the ability to compete and since these drop-outs were, in general, the cream of the society, that left a gaping void which was filled with people of lesser inate ability and, whammo, World War Three."
"What has all that to do with me?" Catherine asked.
"You're saying you want to be with the young. What awaits you? If you stay in the University Compound, you'll find yourself among people who are, at the present time, slightly older than you. They're all serious people, carefully chosen to become a part of the great plan when they've read and studied their way through the university. Inside the Incubator, you're a member of a minority age-group, but outside, you'll be a member of a minority age-group, also."
"Then I'll go to the world."
"And do what?"
"I don't know."
"Without the security of the family unit, you'd be like a member of a colony of ants," Muleholtzen said. "The best you could hope for would be to become a member of some street gang. Is that what you want? To be a member of a virtual harem for a half dozen strong, unwashed teenage boys?"
"It isn't all like that," Catherine said. "There are people-"
"The intelligent ones are compounded away from the masses," Muleholtzen said. "In the universities, in the research centers, the great hospitals, the centers of government. It's a jungle out there, girl."
"I don't care. I just can't stand the thought of being here, all alone."
Muleholtzen moved toward her. He took her arm. He guided her to a chair and sat on the arm, looking down at her. His half-smile made him look younger. "You're not a virgin, are you, Catherine?"
She looked up quickly. Then, defiantly, "No."
"I thought not. And you had a boyfriend? A couple of boyfriends? Several?"
"He was the son of one of the maintainence men," Catherine said.
"And that's the main reason why you want to go out?"
"No!" She squirmed. "Well-"
"You don't have to be ashamed of it. The sex urge can be very, very powerful in the young. I understand." He patted her arm. "Have you considered asking someone in authority, such as myself, simply to have your boyfriends's family moved into the Incubator?"
"Oh," she said, "could you?"
"I think I might. We'd have to look into it. See if there could be a legitimate place for the family.' "Gee," said Catherine, "if you only could-"
"But there is also another alternative." She frowned.
"You could placate that powerful sex urge o yours with other partners."
She swallowed. She shifted uncomfortably.
"I know," he said. "You say there's no one here but old jokers, old squares like myself. But Catherine, down through the age there have been young girls who have discovered that an older lover is something much to be desired."
"It isn't just that-"
"Oh, I know. It isn't just sex. It' companionship. But I'm sure you've noticed tha there are a lot of youngsters who approach you in age, who are only two to three years younger."
Catherine squirmed uncomfortably. He was beginning to sound like her mother. She didn' think any of them could ever understand that you had to have people your own age, just had to have them.
"Those people will be your contemporaries,' Muleholtzen said. "They will be the people who will carry this operation to its conclusion. We, the original ones, will age out. By the time the infants are twenty-one, I, for example, will be fifty-eight When the Wise Men are fifty, I'll be eighty-seven, if I'm still alive. It is people such as you who will be trained to take over, to care for the Wise Men, to save the world. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"Oh, sure," she said. "But-"
"But getting laid," Muleholtzen said, "means more right at the moment." He rose before she could protest. "I repel you, sexually, don't I?"
"Well, it's just that-"
"You can't think of me as a sexual partner?"
"Well, no-"
"And yet I could make sex good for you beyond your wildest dreams."
"I think I'd better go."
"Not yet," he said. "I want you to see something." He buzzed. An aide, a beautiful blonde girl in skimpy attire, came. He whispered instructions. The girl glanced at Catherine and smiled. She disappeared. Seconds later a screen lowered itself on the opposite wall. A panel opened in the wall behind Catherine's chair.
"A few years ago this movie caused quite a commotion," Muleholtzen said. "It was so frank, so open with its sex, that the world of that time was not ready for it. Since it illustrates what I've been saying, I'd like you to see it."
"I really should go," Catherine said. She was becoming a bit concerned.
"We won't see it from the first," Muleholtzen said. "When it starts, we're at the end of the story. The theme is incest. That was why it was so shocking. As you know, incest is still taboo in the outside world, although there's more of it than anyone will admit. My point in showing it to you to illustrate to you how a young girl, such as yourself, can be sexually happy with an older man.
In this case it happens to be the girl's father, but that is incidental. Are you ready to watch?"
"I suppose so, if we have to," Catherine said.
She came into the house wearing one of those little dresses which is nothing more than a piece of material with a built-in bra. She was about fourteen. She was thin, but shapely. Her breasts were small but firm. Her entire figure was graceful and taut. She had on nothing underneath the little dress but a pair of panties. The band of the panties showed through the dress. Her lipstick was gone. Her hair was mussed and her dress was wrinkled. Her father met her at the door. He was a man of, perhaps, forty years, slightly lax in the middle, rather handsome.
"Where have you been?" he asked. His tone was curious, rather than accusing. , "Out with Joey," she said.
"Doing what?"
She walked past him, turned. She grinned. She stood hipshot, her hard little pelvis pushing against the dress which was tightly drawn across her loins. At that point the director used the technique of showing the thoughts of each participant in the scene in vivid, quick flashes, the face of the person doing the thinking superimposed over the whole thing. The girl's face was sweet, musing, as she remembered. She'd been in the back seat of Joey's car. She'd been screwed. She'd been in the back seat of the car with that nice young boy and she'd let him kiss her and play with her breasts and put his finger into her until she was all hot and then she'd let him take off her panties. He'd pulled down her bikini panties-
The man's face was bemused. She'd let that young boy pull down her sweet little bikini panties. Flashes of lust. He'd like to lick the crotch of them. He'd like to lick her pussy juice off and hold them over his nose and smell her sweet little pussy, his little girl's pussy, sweet little wanton of a bitch of a girl with her sweet little creaming pussy filled with the boy's hard prick and her panting and scratching and getting her rocks off-She went into her bedroom. He followed. She had already zipped her dress half-way down. "Zip me?" she asked.
He zipped the dress down to the hollow just above her buttocks. Her back was soft and clean looking, naked under his gaze from the band of the bikini panties up.
She knew he was admiring her. It gave her a feeling of wantonness. She turned. His face was flushed. He licked his lips. He didn't want to go. He saw, in those vivid flashes, her under the young boy again. He saw her under him.
"Honey," he said. "What did you do with Joey?"
"Oh," she said, "nothing, really."
"Didn't you do some making out?" She smiled. "Maybe."
"It's just that I'm curious," he said. "Tell me what you do."
She threw her pelvis out at him. "Well, we kiss and stuff."
Flashes in his mind of her kissing the boy, of her opening her beautiful little legs for him. "And what else?" He smiled. "You go all the way with Joey, don't you?"
The flash scenes over her face showed that she was thinking along the same lines. She saw her father naked, his big tool hanging down. She saw herself under his body. "Yes," she whispered. "We go all the way. Is that so terrible?"
"No," he said, his voice hoarse. "Does he make it good for you?"
She squirmed with her sudden passion. As a matter-of-fact, Joey had been too fast. He'd left her unsatisfied and then he had tried to make her goodness come with his hand, but it hadn't worked. "No," she whispered.
"I could make it good for you, honey," he said.
She said nothing. She merely shrugged out of the dress, letting it fall. He looked at her pretty breasts hungrily. He let his eyes devour her fine, young form. She was a beautiful young girl all tall and slim and through her thin panties he could see that her pussy hair was still wet with the mutual passion she'd had with Joey in the back seat of the car. He reached for her. He held her in his arms, her young breasts crushed against his chest. He lifted her and put her on her bed. He removed the panties. Her pussy was messy. It was obvious that she'd merely pulled on her panties over it when she finished screwing. He looked down at her as he feverishly removed his clothing. Her body was trim and sweet and her breasts were white and her pussy was wet with come juice and her own copulatory juice and he gasped as he fell down and licked and sucked the chewed at her wetness with his weapon all hard and creaming and her wiggling and moaning.
"Daddy, daddy, oh, God, Daddy, it feels good but I'm all dirty."
He could taste the come. He could taste the boy come in her slit of a sweet pussy and he sucked it all out, starchy and tangy and wished that he could have been there to see the dick being plunged into her, wanting to be able to lick it-all this shown in the flash shots of his mind-as it went in and out of his daughter's pussy and suck it with his mouth as it went into her pussy and wet itself and came out of her and he could feel it bucking and pounding and bumping into her pussy with his mouth on the base of it and she was saying, "Oh, oh, oh."
"Screw me, Daddy. Put your prick in me."
"Don't you want daddy to suck you some more?"
"No, I'll come if you do."
"Want me to put my prick in you?" He crawled up her body.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes!"
Close-up of prick going into pussy. Close-up of daughter's face, moaning as her father screws and bucks and her loins pitch and heave and then there's a close-up side by side on the screen of the girl's face in ecstasy and the father's prick pumping into her, coming, coming and the sound is moaning and the wet slurp, slurp of the prick to and fro in her wildly and then fade-out, daughter's face lingering, all relaxed and happy.
Muleholtzen sat on the arm of Catherine's chair again. "You see," he said, "youth and age can mix. The thing which made that scene so dramatic was the fact that the sex was real. The actor and the actress were actually having a very satisfactory union. The passion was not faked. There was quite a furor about it, as I remember. I was only a child, then."
"It was quite realistic," Catherine said. The scene had excited her. She'd seen such films before, of course. Anyone who saw movies or watched the screen saw such scenes, but this one had been something special. Muleholtzen's hand was on her arm, and in spite of herself, she found the touch to be exciting.
"I can do the same for you, Catherine," he said.
"Dr. Muleholtzen," she said, half-teasingly, "are you trying to seduce me?"
"Yes," he said, letting his hand trace the curve of her arm to the beginning of her bulge of breast. "For two reasons. First, because I think it is in the best interest of everyone involved for you to stay here in the Incubator. Second, because you turn me on something fierce." He let his hand cover her breast. She shuddered. "I'll do nice things for you, Catherine, if you'll let me."
"All right," she said.
Catherine White was only fourteen, but she lived in an unusual age. Perhaps the only age which could have matched it was the time of the French Revolution, when morals almost disappeared, when women became the possessors of a sexual freedom which was unmatched to the day of Muleholtzen's great plan. Although Catherine's family paid token service to an old-fashioned morality, there was, below the surface, the same tensions and conflicts which had brought the world to the brink of disaster and sexual freedom seems to be a product of trubulent times. Catherine had experimented with sex, both autoerotic and hetrasexual. She was quite successful with masturbation, but only partially successful with her experiments with boys. She knew the thrill of being penetrated by a hard, male member, but the complete satisfaction of having a good climax with a male inside her was elusive. Young boys were too quick. Try as she might she could not match their hotness. She'd let two of them take her. The first had pumped lustily immediately after insertion and had faded into nothing. The second had lasted just long enough to bring her to the brink of wonder and then had pumped and faded, too.
Sexual activity was not evil to Catherine. She'd been taught by her mother to treat sex as something worthwhile, something not to be thrown away lightly in promiscuity. She did not like sex to be cheapened, but she liked sex. Her objections, which had been overcome by the erotic movie and her own hot nature, were not to having sex with a male, but to having it with an old man, as she considered Muleholtzen to be. Now she was saying, "all right" to Muleholtzen's calmly worded request to have sex with him and it was because she was passionate from having seen the beautiful young girl on the screen have such an obviously rewarding experience with an older man. It was because she was young and naturally sensuous and because she was stuck in a prison with nothing but old squares and young kids. "All right," she agreed.
Muleholtzen knelt in front of her. "I want to make it enjoyable for you, Catherine. I want to do it all for you. If I do or say anything you don't like, please tell me."
"All right," she repeated. But her heart was pounding.
Muleholtzen kissed her. He kissed her lightly, for he knew that very young girls rarely acquire a taste for wet, Frenchy kisses. Then he let his hands know her breasts. She was, as he suspected, quite sensitive in the breasts. She liked having them brushed and squeezed and her breath caught and held as he twiddled her little nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. He kissed her again as he played with her breasts and she sighed, sliding down into the chair, relaxing, letting her body respond to his caress. His hands went down to caress her legs and her thighs.
"You have such beautiful legs," he said. "May I look at them?"
"Yes," she whispered.
He raised her skirt to expose her bikini panties. They were blue. He rubbed her thighs gently, letting his fingertips brush and tickle. She shivered with the goodness of it. He put his fingers gently under the band of her panties and pulled. Her tummy came out, taut and flat. Her navel was a round hole with two or three puckering lines feeding into it. Her pubic hair started neatly and was blonde, as was her own hair. He pulled gently, exposing the softness of her loin-crease, then leaned forward as he continued to lower the panties and kissed her in the crease of thigh, his lips hot and slightly moist.
Panties gone, he spread her legs and looked at her. She was beautiful, blonde hair pressed down and curly, little lips covering the slit of her vagina. "Have you ever been kissed, there?" he asked, touching her on the labia with his lips.
"No," she whispered.
He leaned forward. He put his hands behind her, palms on her rounded taut buttocks. He pulled her forward in the chair and put his face into her lap, letting his lips first brush the area of her clitoris until she squirmed. He established a beachhead with his tongue, putting it squarely on her little clitoris and pushing it back and forth within its envelope of skin until her hips set up a sympathetic squirming. Then, suddenly, he covered her entire vaginal area with his mouth, wet, sucking, demanding. He tasted the sweet flow of her juices, viscid, bland. There was a pungent, pleasant aroma in his nostrils, the smell of arroused woman, the scent of pussy. He thrust his tongue out to penetrate past the fleshy little guardian of her inner tube and the taste of cunt was more intense.
"Oh!" she moaned, as he pushed his tongue in and out.
He pushed his lips forcefully against her clitoris and wet it thoroughly, then mashed his tongue against it and mauled it with his good tongue softness until, with a cry, she put her hands on his head, stiffened, pulled his face more tightly into her crotch. He pulled away, knowing that she was on the verge of climax.
'llhhhh," she moaned, pulling, trying to push her wetness up to his mouth again.
He thrust his tongue into her and reamed her, letting his nose press the sensitivity of her clitoris. She came close again and he pulled away.
"Please," she begged. "Oh, please." She was stretched out in the chair, her butt all but hanging out of it. He brought her close once again, let her use his mouth to press against, squirm against, make frenzied circles against. And during this last torried phase he slipped out of his pants and his member was erect, medium large, drooling his passion with clear drops coming from the little eye in its tip. When she was almost coming, he jerked away, seized her small, sweet, young ass in his hands, forced his body up into the saddle between her firm thighs and, with her lubricated by his saliva and her own excretions, his secretion adding to the slickness, he entered her with long, sliding, quick strokes which seated him quickly and pounded her engorged clitoris to climax with her body spasming and her legs jerking up to close around his back, instinctively, making him go deeper, deeper. Her breath was a gasping, whining, crying sound as he pulled and pushed long, hard, pleasing strokes, himself loving the viscid, sliding wonder of her young body, but concentrating on her pleasure until, with a wild cry, she seemed to go mad. Nails clawed through his shirt, her mouth sought his and she gave vent to her passion with a full mouthed, open kiss with her tongue lax inside to be sucked into his mouth and massaged as she moaned and fought, her hips jerking crazily, her cunt going wild with a burst of sun and spring and all good things spasming with clonic bursts which went on and on and her moaning was crying-laughing and then she held still, sighed, and relaxed, clinging to him, tongue in his mouth. He let her kiss fall away.
"Good?" he asked.
"Unnnnn," she moaned in answer.
He could have kept moving in her. She was lax, but he was seated deeply in her tightness. But he knew that with her passion gone, she might be sensitive. He didn't want to mar the goodness of her first complete male-induced climax by any unpleasantness. With an exertion of will, he withdrew, looking down to see his member wet with her juices. She looked at him. There was a question in her eyes. She still felt good, wanted to feel him come in her.
"Don't worry," he whispered, reading her thoughts, "it isn't over." He picked her up. On a huge bed in a nearby room he removed her dress and his clothing. He began slowly. He kissed her nipples until they came back to life. He brushed his lips over her entire body, causing chill bumps of pleasure to form on sensitive areas such as the small hollow above her rump, the soft inside of her thighs. When he could tell, by her breathing, that she was responding, he went back to the new-wet muff and kissed her used cush and tasted the not-unpleasant taste of a properly screwed woman. When she was squirming uncontrollably, he mounted her, pushing deeply into her quiddy, for he was near. He had to hold back until, with a wildness ever more exciting as she neared, she came for a second time and into her pounding, pulsing pussy he pumped his seed, hot, slick, so forcefully ejected from his member that she could feel it wetting her down inside, spouting out to gush against her very womb.
Later, with eyes closed, feeling the sweet aftermovements of her under him, his rod half-hard and still in her, he kissed her neck. "Was it so bad with an old square?"
"It was wonderful," she whispered. The memory of it made her loins buck up under him.
"Will you stay with us for a while?"
"I don't know," she said.
"Well, will you at least promise not to do anything without talking it over with me?"
"Yes."
"And will you come to see me again?"
"If you want me to."
"I want you to very much," Muleholtzen said. "I would be very displeased if you din't."
"I will, then."
"Tomorrow night?"
"All right."
Muleholtzen rose. He wiped his wet penis on the bedspread. It would be changed. He looked down on the used, wet, come-oozing cush of the young girl and smiled. He felt as if he'd accomplished a great deal. He knew she would not leave now. So, he had a very worthwhile recruit. She could be trained to do valuable work. She was intelligent. And she was a very, very sexy little piece. Almost as sexy, he thought, as her mother. God, he'd been wanting to get into Kitty White's pants for a long time! But he was not so pussy-crazy that he'd risk losing two good people just to satisfy his libido. However, theirs was a closed society. They'd be locked up in the Incubator with each other for a lot of years. Anything could happen, and probably would. Not that he'd let any of it interfere with the main task. Nothing was so important, not even his long-hidden desire to screw Kitty, that he wouldn't allow it to do one iota of harm to the plan. But if it worked out-if he could now, after making love to the daughter-know the mother. A surge of excitement went through him as an incredible picture flashed into his mind. If he could have mother and daughter on the same bed-
The picture was so blazing passionate that he began to harden again. With a gasp, he fell onto the sweet young body nude and used on the bed before him. Catherine responded with the vigor of youth and the last, long climax was mutual and very, very good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
During one of the long sessions of intensified discussion, Dr. John Warner, chief psychiatrist, brought up the subject of sex in regard to the seven male infants who were to save the world. It proved to be a touchy subject. Warner was of the opinion that the seven were to have complete sexual freedom if they were to be free of any of the hang-ups which grow out of sexual frustration.
"Look," Warner argued, "we know how the family unit sometimes produces wierd things in the libido. Mothers wash and clean little boys' penises. They powder them and look at them. They bathe little boys until they're quite old enough to have sexual awareness. In fact, we now know that infants have a certain sexual awareness from a very early time. As a result, with our moral code so strongly against incest, little boys grow up with a built-in sense of guilt, for their little tools are stimulated by their mother's activities and they won't admit it."
"Are you advocating that I have sexual intercourse with the Seven?" Kitty White asked. "I'm sort of a substitute mother for them, you know."
"Would it shock you if I said yes?" Warner asked.
"It would make me wonder about you," Kitty said.
"I think only a man can know just how much sex can dominate his thoughts," Warner said. "From puberty and sometimes even before, a boy thinks about sex constantly. Most boys spend a good portion of their private time concentrating on autoerotica. Hours, days, weeks, months, a lifetime-that's how much time can be wasted by a libidinous young boy. He'll spend hours looking at pictures of naked girls in a magazine. He'll spend hours in masturbatory activity and the result will be guilt."
"I think it's vital that we keep any sense of guilt from the Seven," Muleholtzen said.
"Then we're agreed," Warner said. "Let the boys start having all the sex their natures desire as soon as they show any signs of such need."
"We're not agreed on the method," Muleholtzen sighed. "There are certain problems involved. If, for an example, we decide to give them free rein to sex, where do we get their sexual partners?"
"I'm not even sold on the idea of letting them sate themselves on sex," Mark Hopkins said. "We're supposed to be developing a humanitarian side to the Seven. Now, as I understand it, John is advocating complete promiscuity for them. Do you realize what would be lost if the Seven were not allowed to know what every growing boy knows, frustration? Well, maybe not frustration, but at least a sense of need, a desire, engendered by the sheer need for sex. I think it's easy to see that if every man, down through the ages, had been blessed with all the sex he wanted, as early as he could handle it, that we would never have progressed beyond the cave."
"I don't follow that," Ed White said. "I think progress is more than a channeling of unused sexual energies."
"Perhaps," Mark said. "I may be speaking too broadly when I say all progress would cease if all young boys had willing girls at hand. But one of the reasons I'm here is to instill in our seven the appreciation of human beauty, the appreciation of the written word. There's a very important body of literature which would never have been written if sexual availability had made it impossible for a boy or a man to know longing."
"The love poems of Shakespeare," Anne Villurbanne said, agreeing with Mark.
"If you want to put it that way," Kitty said, "include almost all literature. For, after all, I can think of very few stories which do not turn on a man-woman relationship, and John is proposing to do away completely with the old relationship and make sex just another daily fact of life for the Seven."
"We certainly cannot have the Seven devoting their time and energy to the courtship and winning of a woman," Muleholtzen said.
Dinah Russell, big, blonde, so very sensuous, assigned to the mother detail inside the Room, offered a comment. "I don't think we'd have too much trouble with the motherhood complex. We're all very scientific in the Room. I, for one, don't toy with little Two's genitals. The nurses change diapers with a minimum of fuss."
"I should think you'd complete awe any of them," David Braith said. Older than most of them, Braith was the cybernetics expert. "How any tot could have sexual longings for a blonde goddess such as yourself is beyond me."
"You have a point there," Warner said. "This very fact might lead to frustration. Dinah is a very beautiful girl, but she's a big girl. Her very size, coupled with her beauty and her obvious sexual appeal might cause little Two or Three to build up impossible urges. A desire for Dinah's beautiful body, even a subconscious, unknowledgeable desire, would be enough to cause frustration in anyone, even a future wise man."
"I didn't mean to make this a personal thing," Dinah said. "I was just saying that I don't think I engender sexual thoughts in the Seven."
"Living, just being alive, engenders sexual awareness in a normal boy," Warner said.
"Perhaps," Ed White said, "we should import some sexual companions for the Seven."
"I have thought of that," Warner said.
"It would prove to be difficult," Ed said, musingly.
"How so? I don't think we'd have trouble recruiting several young female children. God knows all we'd have to do is to go to the nearest slum and have as many as we wanted for the asking," Anne Villurbanne said.
"We have been hermetically sealed from the outside world for several months now," Ed said. "Do you realize how rapidly certain virus forms mutate? Outside, they've been exposed to the same life forms, changing as they may be. Inside, we're cut off. In just a few months our resistance to certain forms of virus infection may become nonexistent. By importing outsiders, we could be exposing the Seven to something which could prove to be quite a problem."
"Then why have we sealed ourselves off?" Dr. Morna Paul, director of Intensified Education, asked.
Muleholtzen answered. "Throughout his history, mankind has carried a load of bugs inside him which would kill a horse. It is my theory that if we eliminate all forms of micro-life, as we've done in the Room, other than those necessary for the proper function of the human mechanism, we will allow the human body and mind to reach its fullest potential. Energies needed in past centures to combat bugs, germs, virus, can now be expended in developing the thinking apparatus. Without being exposed to germs, our Seven will live in healthy comfort to an age which will seem incredible to us."
"But won't they be terribly vulnerable?" Kitty asked. "What if something happened to expose them? Why, even the common cold virus could kill them."
"In order to expose them," Muleholtzen said, "the seal would have to be breached. Nothing short of an atomic warhead would breach it. If that happens, we don't have to concern ourselves with the welfare of the Seven. We couldn't be expected to be alive to be worried."
"So we have a bunch of hermetically pure kids with dirty minds," David Braith said. "And Warner, here, wants to give them a harem."
"That's just the kind of thinking I don't want to instill in them," Warner said. "I want them to know the sex urge only as a part of their bodily function. Like going to the bathroom."
"Oh, come on, damnit," Anne Villurbane said. "I don't think anyone can swallow that. Because sex is more than going to the bathroom. It's more than shaking hands. It's a vital part of the human need. I don't think it should be cheapened."
Kitty looked at Anne. Coming from Anne, who was ready to jump into bed with almost anyone, who had to be restrained to be kept out of the African orgy, the statement about cheapening sex seemed almost funny. But then Kitty remembered. She had joined Anne in a three-way party with Ed. She'd leaped gladly into bed with John Warner. Turn it around and could she talk about not cheapening sex? However, she still had a very healthy respect for sex. She didn't like to hear it talked about as if it were the equivalent of taking a crap. She didn't like being vulgar about it. She snickered inwardly. No, she didn't like being vulgar about it. She just liked it. She'd leaned against a wall, lifted her skirt, and accepted John Warner into her steaming body. But she hadn't made it seem vulgar, had she?
"We do not want to cheapen sex," John Warner was saying. "Perhaps I worded it badly. I don't want to equate sex with moving one's bowels. Although I don't want to attach any particular shame-no shame at all-to moving one's bowels. I want the Seven to have knowledge of the fact that humanity has built up some queer ideas about bodily functions. I want them to know that people think taking a crap, to put it vulgarly, is something to be snickered at, but I don't want them to feel that way. I want them to be so well adjusted that if they should be in a small boat with members of the opposite sex they would not be embarrassed to lower their pants and move their bowels over the side of the boat. I want them to feel free to satisfy a sex urge in the quickest, most pleasurable way."
"That means having girls at their call," Mark Hopkins said. "And that also means, if I see it properly, that the girl would have little more status than a harem girl. She, the girl, would be a mere sexual object, standing by waiting for the libido of one of the Wise Men to rise up. Then she'd be summoned and that, it seems to me, would not only be degeading to the girl, it would be an unhealthy thing for the Seven. They'd form a cavalier opinion of women in general. They'd look on women as receptacles for the male penis and nothing more."
"Not if we let the girls develop with them," Warner said. "My idea would be to put the girls in the Room, train them to perform vital functions, such as data gathering or computer handling or even the simple matter of day to day care for the Seven. Someone, for example, will have to man the cook stove. Why not sexy young girls?"
"This brings up another subject," Ed White said. "What about the old idea of teaching youngsters self-reliance? If every need, every whim of the Seven is met instantly, won't they have a completely wrong idea of life, of the human condition?"
"I can answer that," Muleholtzen said. "We have no intention of making the Wise Men a part of the human condition. They're to be above it. Of course all their needs will be met. They will, as a matter-of-fact, live in luxury. They will have no personal worries. They won't even be expected to dress themselves, if they so choose. We're operating on an old theory, people, the old theory of the divine ruler, modified. Our wise men have to be put on a pedestal so that the common man can look up and say, gee, look up there. They're so high up there that they must be a helluva lot smarter than me." He waved his hand, dismissing any objections. "So any idea of teaching them self-reliance is definitely out. We're teaching them all the good values, compassion, wisdom, and everything of that sort. They must be so elevated that they have nothing further to gain. They must be so comfortable that they do not have to consider their own conditions, but only the conditions of the whole world in general. We're doing our best to make the Seven into disembodied brains. We can't seperate them from their bodies, so we have to make them as totally unaware of their bodies as possible. We have not only to meet bodily needs, but to anticipate them, so that there is not even a momentary feeling of dissatisfaction."
"Ergo," Warner said, "we give them girls."
"Or castrate them," Kitty said, not really serious.
"We've thought of that," Warner said, his seriousness surprising her. "We've thought of having Seven Wise Eunuchs. But since our wise men must, after all, be men, that would be unwise. Many of the world's problems come about because men have, if you'll pardon the expression, balls. Only a man with balls can understand such problems."
"All right," Muleholtzen said. "We've established the need for sexual companions for the Seven. The next question is, who?"
"We've eliminated the idea of bringing in outsiders," Morna Paul said. "That leaves only the young girls inside the compound."
"I happen to have a census of young females," Warner said. "There are fifty young girls under the age of ten inside the Incubator. Unfortunately, most of them are over five."
"Are my girls included in that census?" Kitty asked.
"Of course," Warner said.
"That doesn't mean that we've already decided to make your young daughters concubines for the Seven," Muleholtzen said, "but it would be interesting to have your reaction, Kitten."
She didn't like being called Kitten in public, especially by a man with whom she was not that intimate. She frowned. "My first reaction is negative," she said.
"Kitty," John Warner said, "although it wasn't the prime objective, when the families were chosen to come inside the Incubator, we made an effort to match male children and female children. Do you understand why?"
"I should think that is obvious," Kitty said.
"Because we knew we would be here, together, a closed society, for many, many years. Because we knew that human nature demands sexual partners. However, the match is not one to one. There are odd ages. We have some teenage girls, such as your Catherine. We have only a few teenage boys. In general, there are more females than males inside the Incubator, not even counting the Seven-"
"I'll bet you men figured that one out," Anne Villurbanne said, smiling.
"We have family units which, we're sure, will remain so. However, we anticipate a complete change in the old alignments. We don't, for example, expect that marriage will be an important part of the future of the younger ones. We expect, on the contrary, that our closeness will foster sort of sexual freedom, a community of free-living people to whom sex is a pleasant outlet, but not the means to breed. For, as you'll easily understand, we cannot allow free breeding. If we did, we'd be busting the Incubator open with sheer numbers before the first fifty years-"
"You're telling me that I should tell my girls, and my son, to live it up, enjoy sex with complete abandon," Kitty said.
"We're telling you nothing. Your personal life is your own," Muleholtzen said. "But we're asking your help, your forbearance, and, perhaps, that you do not object if one of your daughters chooses to be a sexually intimate of the Seven."
"I don't know," Kitty said. "I'll have to think about it."
"We'll all think about it," Muleholtzen said. "Now there's another unsettled question. How are we to treat any sexual attraction which the Seven might acquire for the adult women in the Room?"
"Little boys don't turn me on," Anne said.
"I should hope not," Warner grinned at her. "The last thing we want is lecherous old ladies lusting after our young lads."
"Miss Russell," Muleholtzen said, "what would be your reaction, if as a premise, you should discover one of the Seven masturbating?"
"I don't know. Let him continue?"
"What if he acted guilty?" Muleholtzen asked.
"He wouldn't" Warner said, "unless someone tells him that the sex urge is dirty and that playing with one's self causes cancer or pimples."
"What should my reaction be?" Dinah asked.
"We don't want the boys to become hung-up on self-stimulation," Warner said.
"So what should I do. tell him it's much better with a woman and offer myself? Or call one of the little girls you're going to line up?" Kitty asked.
"I think we have to head off any such situation," Warner said. "And that means, I'm afraid, that as soon as our little Seven show signs of having an erection, we have to teach them the art of making love to another human being. A girl."
"My God," Mark said. "What a dream. Why didn't I get picked up by world-changers when I was a kid. Just think, all the girls you could handle from the time you're six or seven years old."
"You were slow, weren't you?" John Warner asked. There was a good laugh.
"We have, I'd guess, about six years at the most before we have to face this problem. However, we do not have that much time before we solve it. We must prepare our girls, if we're to furnish unlimited sex to our Seven. We can't send girls in to them who think sex is a sin or that it's evil. We'll have to educate our girls as well as the Seven about sexual matters." Muleholtzen had spoken.
"I suggest, then," Warner said, "that we choose a dozen or more girls now and begin to indoctrinate them."
"My Celeste is three years old," Dr. Morna Paul said. "I will volunteer her for the work. I believe in what we're doing, and I'm sure she will, too, when she's old enough to understand it."
"My Mary is seven," said Dr. Martha Maying, the usually quiet dentist. "She will serve."
Muleholtzen looked at Kitty. "Mrs. White?"
"I told you I'd have to think about it," Kitty said. "Lee is ten and Gina is eight. They already have some ideas about sex."
"They're young enough to be adaptable," Muleholtzen said. .
"I will do anything necessary," Dinah Russell said.
"Do little boys turn you on?" Anne asked.
"No," Dinah said, "but like Dr. Paul, I believe in what we're doing. If I can help by serving as a sex object for one of the Seven, I'll do it."
"Well spoken, Miss Russell," Muleholtzen said. "I think we, the inner circle, the movers and shakers, should set a good example for the rest of the people in the Incubator. If one of us holds back, the others might question." He looked directly at Kitty.
CHAPTER NINE
Kitty was one of the last to leave the conference room. Ed had gone ahead. Moma Paul had called Dinah Russell aside to discuss a minor aspect of the early training of the Seven. Kitty, thinking of what had been discussed, was musingly unaware that Mark Hopkins was following her as she went into the hall. She turned when he called her name and an automatic smile crossed her face. Mark was such a nice-looking young man, with black, curly hair and his big, muscular body. She was suddenly aware of his attraction for her. She'd known this man in the most intimate way. She'd opened herself for him, if only briefly. A vivid flash of memory made her face flush. She'd let this man pull aside the loose leg of her panties, and, with only his penis exposed, his clothing in place, make love to her. It was, as she remembered, rather glorious. Why, then, hadn't it been repeated?
"I understand your reluctance," Mark was saying. "It must be a difficult decision to throw away all the old values."
Old values? Hadn't she already thrown away most of them? She'd rolled in lust on the carpet of Muleholtzen's flyer with her husband and another woman. She'd eagerly sought the male sex of John Warner.
"The main point is," Mark was saying, "that we have a thing to do, a thing which might, just might, save the world. I know Muleholtzen is asking a lot of us-"
"Mark," she said, her body tingling. "I haven't seen you in so long."
"I'm sure that Muleholtzen won't be unreasonable about this," Mark was saying. "But he's so wrapped up in the Plan. He would give his life for it, and I suppose that he thinks he's not asking too much when he," Mark laughed nervously, "asks for the chastity of his friends' daughters."
It was difficult for Kitty to understand what was happening to her. On the trip, she'd been released from all the old inhibitions. Here, in the Incubator, back in the family environment, she'd returned to her old way of life. Now she was looking at Mark and remembering the strength of his arms and she was sopping in the reinforced vee of her panties, just literally sopping as her glands reacted to him, to the idea of knowing the touch of his lips.
"Let's not talk about my daughters just now," Kitty said. "I'm not ready to think about that just yet."
"May I give you an escort somewhere?" Mark asked.
"I was going to the library," Kitty said. "I'll walk along."
Inside the Incubator it was permanantly fall, or spring, depending upon the preference of the individual. The humidity was low, the temperature at seventy-two to seventy-four. It was impossible to tell, with the naked eye, that there was a dome over the entire complex, a dome which cut them off from the rest of restless mankind, cut them off from the uncertain weather of the planet. When the sun was hidden by clouds outside, artificial lighting made the Incubator pleasant. They walked in permanent spring toward the building which housed labs and library. Mark talked about the plans he had formed for the literary education of the tiny Seven. Kitty listened with interest, doing her best to concentrate, but finding that her desire for Mark was loud and insistent. She paused at the steps leading to the library. Mark smiled.
"See you later," he said.
"Come in with me," she said, impulsively.
"All right," he said. He had sensed her sensuality. It oozed from her every pore, giving him a fine feeling of anticipation. They walked into the building side by side. Kitty asked for a private research room. Mark glanced at her and she wouldn't meet his eyes. She was issued an electronic key and she led the way down a hall, past several doors. She pressed the key to the spot above the lock and the door opened. Inside were a couch, a table and two or three chairs. The book selector came alive, relays clicking as the electronics were activated by the opening of the door.
"What is the subject of your research?" Mark asked, standing just inside the door.
"I thought I'd look into the matter of sex in the very young," Kitty said.
"I have a better idea than that," Mark told her, stepping forward. She didn't back away. "Why don't we examine the sexual responses of the adult?" He put his arm around her. "In particular, your response. And mine."
She closed her yes-yes eyes with a sigh, lifting her lips. She was thin in his arms, her breasts taut and small but lovely against his chest. He allowed his hands immediate liberty, for the complete way she gave herself to him told him that there was to be no holding back. He felt the hardness of her spine and the indentation of her flesh to it, the bulge of her taut rump, the curve of her upper hip. His hands closed around her buttocks and lifted her to place her pelvic basket against his suddenly hard maleness. She pressed hard, wiggling to feel him better and her entire body trembled with her need.
"Kitty," he whispered, "I've thought of you so often since that time-"
"I've thought of you, too."
"Why have we waited so long, then?"
She looked into his eyes. There was a silken little smile on her face. "We don't have to wait any longer, Mark."
He clung to her. Her body melted into his. She surrendered. She pressed her pelvic hardness against the swell of his arroused manhood and let him support her weight in his arms. Suddenly, he knelt in front of her. He lifted her short skirt and pulled her panties away with one swift, business-like motion. Her blonde bush exposed, she leaned forward, pressed toward him, eager for his touch. But he didn't kiss her. He merely pressed his cheek against her bush, held her close with his arms wrapped around her upper thighs and her rump. It was a sensuous, pretty moment and she relished it. Then when he rose she put out her arms to him. He lifted her. The table was cold under her bare rump as he placed her there, lifting and pushing her skirt up around her waist. She lay back on the hard surface, eyes half closed, legs open to show the dark slit of her womanhood. She felt a tingle, a surge of lust as he dropped his trousers and his maleness sprang out, strong and straight, tip moist with his passion, throbbing and lifting as it neared the already wet and ready orifice.
CHAPTER TEN
When Kitty found the message from the Great Man, she was not surprised. A week had passed since the meeting during which it was decided to supply sexual partners for the Seven and Kitty had not sent in her decision on her two young daughters. She was still undecided. The appointment was for the following day. She knew that she'd have to be ready to give Muleholtzen an answer. She needed to talk with someone. She went into the study. Ed was involved in a complete analysis of the brain waves of each of the young Wise Men. He looked up with a scarcely concealed impatience when Kitty interrupted.
"I'm very busy, Kitten," he said. "What is it?"
"It's about Lee and Gina," Kitty said. "About this business of providing girls for the Seven."
"I want to run a comparison on each of these," Ed said, looking back at his charts.
"Did you hear what I said?" she asked. "I'm talking about our daughters. Are we going to let them screw the Seven?"
He frowned. "I think Warner and the rest presented a good arguement for having unrestricted sex for the Seven," he said.
"Then you're in favor of turning Lee and Gina over to them, to be whores for the great Wise Men?"
"I wouldn't be so harsh," Ed said. "And it's in a good cause, Kitten."
"Oh, to hell with your good causes," she said. "Are you willing for your eight-year-old daughter to be taught how to sex it up with a boy, how to suck his penis and how to screw?"
"You don't have to be crude," he said. "Yes, I think it's necessary. As Muleholtzen said, if the inner circle doesn't contribute their all to the cause, what will the lesser people think?"
Kitty slammed out of the room. Ed, unperturbed, went back to his charts. Kitty, angered, feeling very helpless, went to her room and fell down across the bed. She thought of Mark. Mark, at least, was sympathetic. He didn't really object to making whores of young girl, but he could understand how she felt. He didn't brush it off as if it were something unimportant. In the three nights she'd been with him, they'd talked about her daughters often.
But thinking about those three nights was a mistake, for her sudden need for him overrose her concern for her two young daughters. She picked up the telephone. No, he wasn't very busy. Actually, his work wouldn't really begin until the Seven were old enough to be educated. Yes, he'd love to see her at his apartment. She dressed. He was waiting when she arrived. The sex was sudden, full, violent and very satisfying. He was the most sensuous man she'd ever known. When he went down on her to taste her pussy after she'd had orgasm, it was about the most sexy thing she'd ever felt, her well-used pussy soft and wet and him making it softer and wetter with his mouth, reviving the need in her, stimulating her clit to new hardness and then coming back to fill her full of hard, big dick.
She stayed with him until well past midnight, codding for him, loving to do it, having seven inches of hard Mark in her crotch for desert. When she went into her own apartment, Ed heard her and came out of the study, running his hand through his hair. She remembered the conversation of the afternoon and resentment went surging through her.
"Where have you been?" It was not an accusation. It wasn't even curiosity. He was making polite conversation. Suddenly she realized that Ed was more married to his work than to her. The quick, hot resentment made her say it.
"With Mark Hopkins."
He was unperturbed. "Oh?" He sighed. "Talking about educating the Seven?"
"No," she said. "We were making love." He looked at her.
"Screwing," she said. "We were screwing and kissing and he kissed my pussy and I chewed his prick." She knew Ed didn't like vulgar language.
"Please," he said. "Do you have to use such words to describe it?"
"Is that all you're concerned about, words?"
"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Tear out my hair and scream that I've been wronged?" He smiled at her. "I see nothing wrong with a healthy young woman having some sex. After all, Kitten, I've been so busy lately-"
"My God," she said.
"After all, we're all in this together," Ed said. "Muleholtzen said we'd have to forget the conventions-"
"Oh, damn Muleholtzen," she said. "Damn you and damn all of them." She ran up the stairs. When he came to bed, crawling into the twin bed beside hers quietly, she pretended to be asleep. However, it was a long time before she finally stopped thinking. When she did, it seemed that she'd been asleep only minutes before the alarm went off and she had to get up to put in her few hours at the Room, playing mother to seven young male babies who would change the world. As she went about her duties, she thought of the exchange with her husband. It hurt her a bit to think that he didn't care how many men she slept with, but what did it matter? Oh, she was still fond of Ed. She'd continue to make a home for him, but there were other things in the universe. There was Mark.
A sudden twinge of pure sensuality went through her. There were other men. John Warner. David Braith. He was older, but distinguished looking and thin. He still thought about women. Kitty had seen him look at her with undisguised admiration. There were dozens of them, men of all types and descriptions. She shook her head. Complete promiscuity? No. She'd be careful. She'd be selective. But, her body told her with its sudden clamor of desire, she would go to bed with more men. And the thought was a lovely one.
That evening she wanted to go to see Mark, to know the strength of his arms, to take him with thrilling completeness into her body. But she had the appointment with the Great Man. She dressed conservatively in a two-piece outfit which was long to mid thigh. She was admitted by one of Muleholtzen's "helpers," a pretty, young brunette. Seeing the girl, being reminded that there were about six or eight of those so-called helpers around Muleholtzen's headquarters, she had a thought. She was not long in voicing it. When Muleholtzen greeted her, dressed in blue dressing gown and slippers, she said, "Why don't you allow your helpers to be sexual companions to the Seven?"
He smiled. "I'm glad to see you are aware of the subject for our erotic discourse. As a matter-of-fact, they'll be available, of course. They're very dedicated young ladies."
"Sure," Kitty said, "dedicated to the proposition."
"Have I ever said that I didn't like pretty young women?" Muleholtzen asked. "In a way, I'm a lot like our young Wise Men will be. I don't mean that I'm an impartial Solomen. I'm very biased, as a matter-of-fact, which is why I would not make a good government figure. I mean that I am so concerned with my work that I don't have time for courtship, for the pretty little hobby of pursuing girls. I have my aides here so that my needs are met without taking more than a minimum of time from my work."
"Very commendable," Kitty said, sarcastically.
"I don't think you realize the importance of all of this," Muleholtzen said. "Our entire plan depends on making those seven babies into something which is above humanity but still human. Sex is very, very human. And it can dominate a man's life. We can't allow that, either in men such as myself or in the Seven."
"Dr. Muleholtzen," Kitty said, "I've heard all the arguments. I'm just not sure that it's necessary to teach my two girls the art of lovemaking at the ages of eight and ten. Perhaps you're right about having readily available partners for the Seven. I wouldn't begin to question the massed brain power of the entire staff in that matter. I'm just not convinced that my sacrifice is necessary."
"Would it be such a sacrifice?" Muleholtzen had steered her by the arm to a couch. He sat beside her. "Children have amazingly strong sexual desires. I'm sure that at some point in the history of mankind they were allowed to indulge these desires. Would it be a sacrifice on their part to be able to participate in sex, or would they consider it a great blessing?"
"Oh, of course they'd enjoy it," Kitty said.
"Then is it wrong?"
"I don't know," she said.
"I have something I'd like you to see," Muleholtzen said. "As you may have heard, we've already started our training program for the young girls." He pushed switches and the screen lowered itself at the end of the room. Lights dimmed. The screen flickered into life. "You know Dr. Morna Paul, of course?"
"Yes," Kitty said, as Morna Paul appeared on the screen. She was in a nursery.
"The child is Celeste. She's three," Muleholtzen said. "Dr. Paul is testing the innate sensuality of the child."
"I see," Kitty said.
Morna Paul was bending over a layette on which lay her three-year-old daughter, stripped. Morna's hands were exploring the baby's body. The little girl laughed as hands brushed her ribs. Then Morna Paul fingered the tiny nipples of the young breasts. The girl continued to laugh. However, when Morna put her hand between the child's legs and began to rub the genital area gently, the little girl quieted, arched her torso, lay back with a sigh and a smile on her face.
"Celeste has a well-developed sense of pleasure when the clitoral area is stimulated," Muleholtzen said. "Penetration of the vagina is inadvisable in one so young, of course."
"But why is the mother doing this?" Kitty asked, repelled by the perversion of Morna Paul.
"Who else would have the child's complete confidence?"
"But aren't you afraid of building lesbian tendencies?"
"No. Here's why. This is waiting for young Celeste." He flipped switches. "This is Mary, daughter of Dr. Martha Maying. She is almost eight. It was discovered early this week that little Mary had already discovered autoeroticism and was masturbating in the bathtub with a soapy cloth. From there it was but a step to this."
"My God," Kitty gasped.
The little girl on the screen, flat chested, thin, was nude. The boy, approximately twelve years old, was also nude. He was in a state of advanced sexual excitement and his small penis showed it, standing stiff and straight. He was busily examining little Mary's pussy, fingering it while Mary lay with her legs spread wide, a satisfied smile on her face. As Kitty watched, the girl's body began to lift and fall to the caress of her pussy. Then, with a skill which showed that sex, and the skills thereof, are somewhat of an instinct in the human race, the boy mounted her, steering his little penis with his hand to penetrate the vulva of young Mary. The following screwing was wild and, judging by the expression on Mary's face, very rewarding.
"Is it so terrible?" Muleholtzen asked. "In life conditions, our social scientists estimate that eighty-nine percent of young girls lose their virginity before they are thirteen. Are we doing something so terrible to take this nature-given urge and train it to perform a good purpose?"
Mary was obviously coming in the pictures. She was humping wildly. The young boy was pounding lustily. Kitty, fascinated in spite of herself, felt a beginning of sexual tension and was somewhat ashamed of it.
"Mary is doing very well," Muleholtzen, smiling, said. "I imagine she'll be among the first to be intimate with the members of the Seven. At least, she'll be ready to step in when the natural desires of the boys began to form. She'll have a completely healthy attitude for sex. She'll love it and approach it as something nice and not at all dirty."
While Muleholtzen talked, the screen went blank momentarily and then lit with full color and adult performers. One of Muleholtzen's aides, a beautiful brunette, stood exposed in pristine glory with her hands in her hair, her full breasts proud and firm. Her waist was indented and her full bush was neat looking. A man whom Kitty recognized as one of Muleholtzen's staff appeared in the picture, himself nude. He seized the pretty girl and let his hands know her body with obvious enjoyment. Two naked beings pressed tightly together and the man's hard penis went between the girl's legs. The girl lowered her weight and squeezed the hardness between her soft thighs.
"I'm sorry," Muleholtzen said. "The tape was apparently spliced to his old reel. It's one that one of my aides had made for her own amusement. I'll turn it off." He reached for the switches.
"I find it rather interesting," Kitty said, with a nervous laugh.
Quickly, the girl went down on the man. She licked and laved his glans, smiling, her face visible to the camera, the big, fleshy phallus penetrating into her mouth with jerks as the man moved his hips. Kitty felt a swell of pure lust. She made no objection when Muleholtzen moved close and put his arm around her. The girl was an expert. She obviously loved oral sex. She was working on the man's penis with relish. Then, when it was her turn, she lay on a bed and threw her legs open with abandon. The man dived into her softness and began eating, his hands lifting her with his palms on her rump. The girl writhed and moaned.
"Do you find it exciting?" Muleholtzen asked.
"They do seem to be enjoying it," Kitty said.
"I find you very exciting, Kitten," Muleholtzen said. "But you've known that for a long time, haven't you?"
Kitty sighed. "Yes," she said, leaning her head on Muleholtzen's chest, watching the wildly moving couple on the screen as Muleholtzen's gentle hand went down the neck of her blouse to find its way under her loose bra to her breasts. She sighed as he pinched the nipples into life with knowing fingers.
Why not? She'd resolved, already, to sleep with other men. Why not Muleholtzen? True, she'd know for a long time that he lusted for her. It had been obvious the way he looked at her. It was flattering, in a way, to know that the great man wanted her. And he knew his way around. His kisses on her neck were tingling. And his hands, on her breasts, knew their business, too.
There was expert screwing on the screen. However, Kitty lost interest in it when Muleholtzen moved to lay her down full length on the couch and hoist her skirt. She lifted her rump so that he could take off her panties and then, with a thrilling directness, he kissed her tingling pussy and put his tongue on the root of her sensation. She bucked up to press wetly into his face. His tongue caressed her wildly. She was lifted to erotic joy almost immediately. She put her hands on his head and pushed him harder into her pelvic basket and moved her hips in long, slow, lascivious circles, luxuriating in the kisses of an expert.
He lifted his head. "Shall we go into the bedroom where we can be more comfortable?"
She rose without answering, letting her hand close on his hard prick through his trousers. He kissed her. She tasted the aroma of her own sex.
In the plush bedroom, he undressed her quickly and shed his own clothing. He gathered her into his arms and half-fell across the huge bed, taking half of one of her small but nice breasts into his mouth. She was vastly aroused. She pulled out of his arms, pushed him back onto the bed, lowered her head, hair hanging about her face as she swooped, opened her soft lips wide, took his big, male hardness deep into her mouth to roll it and lick it with the wide part of her tongue. She loved it. She loved his rod and couldn't get enough of it. She licked it along its rather impressive length, letting her soft lips rub, her tongue caress from base to glans penis. He moved, squirming, searching, pulling and tugging until she was reversed atop him, her lovely rump bent and lowered to his face where his lips and tongue found her throbbing sensitivity and worked.
"Kitten?"
"Yes?"
"You're wonderful."
"Thank you."
"Let me do you alone."
"All right." She lay on her back, legs flung wantonly wide. He kissed and plunged his tongue in and out, penetrating her a full half an inch. It was heaven. She closed her eyes.
"Kitten?"
"Yes."
"Would you object to having a third party for the evening?"
She didn't answer, but her heart pounded. Was he thinking of a male or female third party?
He answered her unspoken question. "A girl," he said. "I'm too selfish to share you with anyone."
"All right," she whispered. She remembered the spontaneous orgy with Ed and Anne Villurbanne, so many, many weeks ago.
"Keep your eyes closed," Muleholtzen said. "And we'll make it nice for you. Both of us."
"Why can't I look?"
"I want it to be a surprise."
She wondered who it would be. Female faces flashed through her mind. Anne Villurbanne. Morna Paul. Martha Maying. That pretty, big blonde Dinah Russell. She hoped it would be Dinah. She felt the bed give with additional weight. Muleholtzen was kissing her wet womanhood. Soft lips touched her side, moved to her breast. Soft, full woman lips. She sighed in ecstasy. The mouth sucked and nibbled at her breast sending floods of goodness into the spot where Muleholtzen was working.
"May I look now?"
"Yes," Muleholtzen said.
She opened her eyes. She saw the top of a blonde, young head. She saw a nude, young girl's body. Then she knew.
"My God," she said, pushing her daughter's head from her breast forcefully. "My God, Catherine!"
She was numb. The sweet lust flooded away. She started to rise. Muleholtzen pushed her back.
"Catherine!" Kitty cried.
"Enjoy it, Mother," Catherine said.
Muleholtzen had thrown his weight on her. His hard penis penetrated. She fought. There was no more desire in her. He'd played a cruel trick on her. She'd sent her daughter to him so that he could explain the terrible consequences of leaving the Incubator and he'd seduced her! He was a hateful, licentious bastard.
But he was in her. Big hard penis working as he held her down.
Catherine's hands closed over her breasts. She felt the effects of the hard, long strokes she was taking deep into her body. Her shock faded. Lust built. She still fought. Muleholtzen lay to one side, working in her. Catherine went down to kiss and fondle her breasts.
"Oh, God," Kitty said.
"I used to suck your breasts," Catherine said, "when I was a baby. Why not now?"
"Oh-oh-"
And she gave herself to it. She lifted her hips and swiveled them into Muleholtzen's lunges and squirmed under the very skillful breast kissing of her own daughter and then Muleholtzen was pushing and squeezing and Catherine's body was near her, legs open, Muleholtzen's face buried in young pussy. And the bizarre sensuousness of the situation sent perverse thrills through Kitty's inflamed body. He was in her! He was kissing her daughter's pussy!
She remembered the film showing Morna Paul playing with the three-year-old genitals of her own daughter. The entire Incubator was perverted but it was so wild, so sexual. With a gasp she let her hands go out to seek the young, firm breasts of her daughter.
"How long have you been doing this?" she whispered, as she fondled her daughter.
"Not long," Catherine said. "Not long enough. You adults have been keeping it for yourself. And it's so wonderful!"
Muleholtzen shifted. He removed his penis from the mother, and with swift, forceful movements, he mounted the daughter. Kitty watched, fascinated, as his prick disappeared into the young body. With quivering limbs, she put out a hand and felt the base of it, felt the soft, stretched lips of Catherine's pussy full of man. Lust overflowed. She almost had an orgasm. She m cried out, fell onto her stomach and kissed the base of the hard rod working in the young, sweet pussy. She licked around the opening, feeling both pussy and prick. And, unable to stand it any longer, she moved quickly around the working pair, lowered her bottom over Catherine's young face. Catherine attacked willingly, using tongue and lips to lift her mother to paradise as Muleholtzen romped and moaned with his nearness. Kitty came with a blinding fury, working her hips furiously, pressing down cruelly onto Catherine's working mouth. And she heard Catherine's moans, Muleholtzen's grunts. Catherine cried out, her voice muffled by Kitty's throbbing softness.
It went on and on and then Kitty, exhausted by her orgasm, fell. Catherine was lying limp. Muleholtzen gasped for breath.
Later, she looked at Catherine. The girl showed no signs of guilt. Was this, then the new order of things? Was it to be wide-open sex in the Incubator?
"I did this deliberately, Kitten," Muleholtzen said. "When I found out how delightfully sensuous your darling daughter is, I planned this. I thought, after seeing how Catherine felt, you might be more open minded."
"We've been fighting our basic nature for ages," Catherine said. "Now we have a chance for liberation. Don't try to stop it, Mother."
"Just give me some time to adjust," Kitty said, with a little laugh. "It isn't everyday a mother goes to bed with her daughter and a man."
"But wasn't it fun?" Catherine asked. "I'll admit that I was a bit doubtful when Muley first suggested it-"
"Muley?" Kitty thought that was outrageously funny. She giggled wildly.
"But then I began to think." Catherine's hand went out to touch Kitty's used womanhood tenderly. "I thought, Hey, I came from there. When I was kissing you there, I kept thinking that. That was where I came from. If it was good enough to hold all of me, once, why not sweet enough to kiss?"
"The world will say we're a bunch of perverts," Kitty said.
"We are the world," Muleholtzen said. "Without us, there will be nuclear war and the end of it all."
"I want to do it again," Catherine said, her young body reviving before the others.
"Your wish is my command," Muleholtzen said.
Catherine sat on Muleholtzen's body. He was still limp, but she began to try to stuff his softness into herself and he throbbed into readiness. Kitty watched eight inches of man go deep into her daughters body. Knowing how it felt, she empathized and the result was passion rebuilding in her.
"Here, Mother," Catherine said, pulling, leading.
Kitty knelt over Muleholtzen's face. She lowered herself. His mouth began to work busily.
Catherine's hands went to her mother's breasts. Kitty did likewise. Then, as the juices began to flow, she leaned forward and met her daughter's mouth and the kiss went deep, deep and continued, with hands working at breasts, Muleholtzen lying firm while Kitty's daughter worked up and down on his hard, stiff penis, Muleholtzen's mouth bringing Kitty to the verge, to the point where she couldn't stand it and pushed Catherine off Muleholtzen, stabbed the hard penis into herself, pulled her daughter around so that her eager mouth could work at Catherine's pussy and thus, filled with man, her mouth pleasing her own daughter, she found her second explosion of pure sensation with Catherine moaning and coming into her mouth and Muleholtzen obligingly coming, pumping semen into her with great force.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One day in the fourth year Ed White woke up to discover that his sex life had been seriously neglected. He'd had a wet dream. He, a forty-eight-year-old man, having a wet dream. He decided to do something about it. He went downstairs to find that Kitty was already gone. Catherine was working on Muleholtzen's staff and was already at work. Lee and Gina, the younger girls, were in school. He was alone in the house.
The sexual attitudes of the Incubator, Ed knew, were quite liberal, although he'd been too busy to take part in the increasingly free activity. Yet he had suddenly realized that he needed sex. And he wasn't willing to wait. He was thinking desperately, trying to remember the schedules. He could call Anne Villurbanne, but she was probably busy in the Room. It was the same with the other women with whom he associated. And he wasn't quite ready to call up a relative stranger and say, how about coming over to my house for some sex?
He was about to dress and go out when the front door opened and Priss Tomas walked in from the commissary, a bag of groceries in one hand. Priss, once a nursemaid for the children, was a part of the community. More, she was a part of the White household. Not a servant, she nevertheless took care of the family's needs in the way of food and services, while training for her own position with the Incubator group. Priss was twenty-four now. She was full-bodied black girl with light skin and nice lips and breasts, which, Ed noticed with quick awareness were quite spectacular.
He paused, looking at her. Priss noticed. She had not failed to take advantage of the sexual freedom of the Incubator. She knew a longing look when she saw one and Ed had never even noticed that she was female before.
"Well, good morning, Mr. White," she said, putting the bag aside, standing with legs slightly spread to show her good thighs. "You're up late."
"Ah, good morning," Ed said, starting to turn away. He could not, however, take his eyes off her.
"Anything I can do for you, Mr. White?" She smiled quite suggestively.
"Ah, no, nothing."
"You have been working too hard, Mr. White," Priss said, moving toward him. "You need some relaxation. Why don't you sit down?" She put her hands on his arms and pushed him into a chair. "And I'll get you a cup of coffee."
She smelled fresh and clean. The touch of her hands on his arms was maddeningly exciting. He had to resist the temptation to grab her. The look on his face was not lost to Priss. "Or maybe it isn't coffee you want, huh, Mr. White?"
"Ah, I, well, maybe a cup of coffee-"
"Coffee?" She smiled down at him. Her middle was even with his face. She moved her hips, rotating her pelvic mound near his nose. "Isn't there something else you'd like?"
"Ah-" Ed said, becoming massively erect.
"Like a little loving?"
"Ah, Priss-"
"You want some, I got it," she said. "Just say the word."
"Arrr," Ed gasped, reaching for her.
"Wait a minute, honey," Priss said, backing off, lossening clothing, letting her one-piece dress fall to the floor, stepping out of it, standing there a bronze goddess in panties, no bra. "Just a minute, honey," she whispered, "let me show you what you want." She slinked out of the panties. Her bush was big, black and fuzzy. She undulated her nude body at him. "Now, baby. Now you see what you want, don't you?"
He leaped for her. He seized her and buried his lips in her hot mouth and his hands were feverishly getting acquainted with a large set of breasts, pert buttocks, the wet, hot crease of her thighs. He lifted her and half-threw her onto the couch in the nearby living room. She lay with legs spread, showing him the pink meat of her inner pussy. He jerked out of his slacks and shorts and fell atop her, burying his penis deep, gasping, threshing.
"That's it, baby," she whispered. "Be as rough as you like. I don't hurt easy. I love it."
He pounded, big prick deep in hot girl-meat, her hips beating a wild tattoo against him until, suddenly, he came with scalding spurts and she milked him, savoring his throbs.
"Now, honey," she smiled, "you're ready. Let's you and me go find us a bed and do some real screwing."
He followed. He didn't go to work that day. He spent the morning in bed with a beautiful black girl finding that he'd missed sex much more than he realized. He couldn't get enough. He used every sense. Mouth, nose, fingers, penis. He kissed and sucked and plunged and was kissed and sucked and mouthed in return and when he was, finally finished, even the vivacious Priss was limp with satisfaction.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Wise Men were seven. Outside, the world teetered on the brink of chaos. Inside, insulated, the life of the people in the Incubator consisted of serving the Seven and in the self-service of their own whims, desires, needs. It was not possible, of course, to forget, even in an atmosphere of permissiveness unequaled throughout history, that theirs was a serious purpose. It was not possible to foreet that the fate of the world depended upon the success of Muleholtzen's project. Yet, it was easy to slack off on the cares of the day with a wide-open orgy, friends getting together for the wildest, most uninhibited parties.
Those among the inner circle were responsible people. They did not allow the free easy living to interfere in the slightest with their duties. The massive computers were still being stuffed and packed with the sum total of knowledge built up by civilized man over five thousand years. Day-to-day happenings were fed to the computers and this information was made available to the young Seven, who developed as rapidly as hothouse flowers. At seven, any one of the young men had an I.Q. above anything known previously. Muleholtzen decided that it was time. He began to feed information about the project to the public press. His money and his past history allowed maximum publicity.
The world did not notice.
Meanwhile, some of the Seven were showing a sexual precociousness equal to their mental development. Five, the small former Israeli slave, began to have erections at the age of three and was playing with himself before he was four. At five, he began to associate sex with members of the female sex and one of the original premises was proven to be correct. John Warner had suspected that the big blonde, Dinah Russell, would have some sort of almost perverse attraction for the Seven.
When young Five began to accidentally touch Dinah's big breasts, it was decided that he should be allowed to satisfy his curiosity without reservation.
"Do you like to touch my breasts?" Dinah asked one day, after Five had pressed his forearm hard against her.
"They're so soft and warm," little Five said, without guilt or shame.
"If you like," Dinah said, smiling fondly, "you may feel of them."
Five put both of his hands on one of Dinah's breasts. It was so large that he could not cover it. "The function," Five said, "was originally that of feeding babies. Did you feed me with your breast, Dinah?"
"No," Dinah said. She was seated and Five was standing beside her, his hands squeezing her breast with rhythmic little tugs. "It has been found that babies do much better on artificial foods. And most mothers don't have the capacity to breast feed their young anymore."
"Evolution in the making," Five said. "I suppose nature will leave the mammary glands, however, because they give both men and woman pleasure."
"Do they give you pleasure?"
"I think so," Five said. "Could you lower your clothing, please?"
Dinah unbuttoned her dress and let it fall off her shoulders. She wore no bra. Her breasts were firm and pouty. Five touched the nipple of one gingerly. It began to fill and swell.
"This gives you pleasure?" Five asked.
"It feels nice."
"May I kiss it?"
"Oh, yes," Dinah said. She felt funny, but she was dedicated. She was willing to do anything to make the project a success.
Five leaned forward and sucked on a swollen nipple. "Is this the way a baby would suck?"
"Yes," she said. She felt very tender toward the young boy. She put her hands behind his head and rubbed his hair while he kissed and sucked at her breast. He kept it up for long minutes, shifting from one large, beautiful breast to the other.
"Dinah," he said, standing beside her, both hands on her breasts, "why do I feel funny?"
"Funny?"
"My penis feels funny," he said. "It's hard."
"It's because you're feeling a sexual stimulation," she told him.
"Yes," he said. "I thought so. I've done some research on it, but I wasn't sure. I think one has to feel things in order to understand them, don't you?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"I think I'm ready to feel sex," he said.
"All right," Dinah said. "Would you like for me to call one of the younger girls? Lee White? Celeste Paul?"
"Would the disparity in our physical size make it impossible for us to have sex, Dinah?"
"Not Impossible," she said. "But it would be better, perhaps, with one of the girls who is nearer your size."
"Couldn't we just try?" He was kneading her breasts with force. She felt tingles in spite of the bizarre knowledge that she was being stimulated by a six-year-old boy.
"If that's what you want," Dinah said.
"Please?"
She undressed him gently. He was so tiny. His little penis was hardly as big as her finger, but it throbbed eagerly when she touched it. She told him to he on the bed. Then she undressed, a big, sexy woman, all hips and bust and taut belly, dwarfing the little boy as she lay beside him on the bed.
"I'm afraid you'll have to show me how," he said, "until I get the hang of it."
She decided that foreplay was not necessary. "Climb atop me," she told him. "Lie on my stomach."
He lay on her. His weight was slight. She felt his hard little penis at her muff and pushed him down slightly. Then she rolled up on her buttocks, drawing her legs up alongside her sides to spread her vagina and point it more upward. She knew that he did not have the length to effect penetration unless it was made easier for him. She put down her hand and took his small, hard penis and pushed it between her hot, slick labia.
"Push into me," she whispered.
He pushed. He pulled out and missed the hole, punching into the softness of her crotch. She centered him again.
"Don't pull out as far," she whispered. "Just take it slow and easy. You have all the time in the world. Does it feel good?"
"Oh, my, yes," she heard him say. "So warm and slick and wet. It's very, very good."
"I'm glad," she said. "Just keep pushing it in and out."
"Is it good for you, Dinah?" he asked, after a few more strokes.
She giggled. "Yes," she said. "It's good for me." She was thinking-My, God, yes, it's good for me. He's no bigger than a minute and he's only six, but I'm hot and I think I'm going to come!
But she didn't. That time. Five plunged and gasped and had a climax without ejecting anything from his tiny penis. It was some days before he wanted to try sex with any of the younger girls and, during the interval, he had sex with the big blonde girl four more times. The second time Dinah got a swift orgasm and the third time she was on the verge when he went and the forth time she told him how to stimulate her clitoris with his hands before entering, so that she could enjoy the act, too. Thus he was taught not to be selfish about his pleasures, not to consider the sex partner merely a convenience for his pleasure. Even after he began to experiment with the younger girls, he still came back to Dinah, his first, for an occasional bit of love.
The other six members of the Seven began to show signs of interest in girls as they neared the age of seven, but the sexual developments were overshadowed by the excitement of being assigned a problem to solve.
For years, Muleholtzen's publicity men had been putting out glowing stories of the ability of the project to decide difficult problems in human relations. He was supremely confident in the ability of the Seven, backed by the store of knowledge in the computers.
The first case was submitted, somewhat as a joke, by the municipal government of Enigma, Georgia, a town of some five hundred thousand on the outskirts of the Savannah complex. When the event occurred, Muleholtzen called a summit meeting.
"In a way," he told them, "it's somewhat degrading. The politicians have handed this one to us because of the element of scatological humor involved. They want to see us make fools of ourselves over this one. Actually, or publicity has had a bigger effect than they want to admit. People are beginning to ask why governments don't take advantage of our abilities. They've read about the super-detachment and the wisdom and knowledge of our young Seven and they're willing to try anything. In fact, one of the principals of this problem asked that the question be submitted to us. She raised such a fuss about it that the civic government was almost compelled to do it. Now we're on the spot. We can take the question and risk ridicule because of the content of the dispute, or we can turn it down. We can say it's beneath our dignity."
"But it is a real problem to those involved," John Warner said. "I assure you that it's important to them. And, after all, most of the problems in this old world are human problems. If we can teach man to be able to live with himself our job is done. I say let's give the problem to the Seven."
"I'm not sure," Kitty said, "that I understand."
"Here it is," Muleholtzen said, pulling down a chart. "Here is the house of Mrs. George Frink, a widow. She is fifty-two years old and has lived here in the same house all her life. It's rather an old house, with no central air-conditioning. Next door, a matter of some three feet away, is the home of Mr. Elbert Humphrey. Mr. Humphrey is a bachelor. He doesn't like women. When he built his house on the lot next to Mrs. Frink he put his bathroom window directly opposite Mrs. Frink's bedroom window. Mrs. Frink likes to live in bed. She eats breakfast in bed. She reads in bed. She sews in bed. Mr. Humphrey has a problem with his bowels so he spends a good deal of time in the bathroom. And, as the poet said, there's the rub."
"I'm curious to see how you state the problem, Doctor," Mark Hopkins said, laughing. "It's a rather delicate one."
"I think I'll use the vernacular," Muleholtzen said, grinning. "Mr. Hymphrey's shit stinks." There was a titter in the room. "In fact, Mrs. Frink says that Mr. Humphrey's offal has the vilest stink this side of hell and she says it's driving her mad. She has tried to get Mr. Humphrey to close his bathroom window. He refused. He says it's his right to leave his window open. And there it stands. Mrs. Frink has filed suit in Municipal Court. Mr. Humphrey has filed a counter-suit. The court is crowded, as most of them are, and the judge can't hear the case for some five years. Meanwhile, Mrs. Frink has complained again and again to the city government. Now they've called us."
"It's hardly a dignified beginning," Ed White said.
"But it is a beginning," Morna Paul sighed.
"If our little geniuses can solve this one they should be able to tackle anything," Anne Villurbanne said.
"Well, Muleholtzen," David Braith said, "to use your vernacular, I'm afraid that we're being told by the local government of Enigma, Georgia, to shit or get off the pot."
"Exactly," Warner said. "They're going to use this to kill us if we duck it."
"And if we muff it, they'll have an even greater weapon," Dinah Russel said.
"I agree," Muleholtzen said. "I think we have no choice."
The Seven gathered in a massive hall with a circular table on which were communications to all the vast store of knowledge of the project. They were solemn little seven-year-old boys as they listened to the presentation of the problem. They had been preparing for that moment all of their young lives and they believed in the importance of what they were doing. They digested all the facts. They mused.
"The obvious solution," Seven said, "would be for Mr. Humphrey to close his window."
"He has the right not to." Two said.
"Air-conditioning for either house would solve the problem," One submitted, "but since each participant is in the lower income group, that would be economically inadvisable."
"An exhaust fan to vent Mr. Humphrey's bathroom," Two said.
"Impossible. Too expensive to run the vent through seven stories of building and if it's vented on Mrs. Frink's side of the house nothing is solved." That was Three.
Four, the little blonde boy who had been pulled from the wreckage of Germany, pushed buttons on his communication panel and read the results. "Chlorophyll," he said tersely. "A one-tenth gram tablet administered once a day to Mr. Humphrey."
"It would work," One agreed.
"If Mr. Humphrey would agree to it," Five said.
"Sell him on the healthful, qualities of it," Seven said. "And include a good laxative: "
"I agree," Four said.
"Yes," One said.
"The solution," Three said.
"And the Goddamned thing worked," Muleholtzen said, weeks later, jubilant. "It worked so well that Mrs. Frink is no longer mad at Mr. Humphrey. In fact, now that Mr. Humphrey can move his bowels, he's taking a new interest in life and was seen sneaking out of Mrs. Frink's house at five in the morning. Not only does he not smell up the neighborhood any more, he seems to have become a lover."
The world laughed. Muleholtzen's publicity men make the story light and happy. Romance wins! The Seven solve a human relations problem with flying colors!
Not far from the sanctuary of Muleholtzen University, site of the Incubator, in a metropolitian jungle called Paris, Texas, a group of third-grade students rioted under the strain of learning to finger paint. It was another ludicrous situation. The Paris city government submitted the dispute to the Seven.
"Spank them," One said, immediately. Seven and four rose.
"Is that it?" Muleholzten asked, from the spectator section.
"Of course," Two said.
"It took three seconds," Muleholtzen said, marveling.
The world howled. Paris, Texas, parents howled, at first. Then the wisdom of the situation began to penetrate and adults who had been intimidated by youth for decades pulled off their belts and picked up switches and began to belabor young buttocks and legs and then the howl was all from the children and when they went back to school, save for one hard-core case who ran away from home to join a circus, they buckled down and became near-champion finger painters in short order. Educators, not missing the significance of the event, began to advocate more spanking. The Parent-Teachers Weekly, a powerful newspaper, reported the progress, the battles between pro-spanking and anti-spanking elements and the pro-spanking element began to get the upper hand and the PTW reported an upswing in interest in education. There was optimism on all sides. It was even hoped that it might be possible, someday, to advance education to the point of teaching children to read before they reached junior high school, a seemingly impossible goal before the two-word decision voiced by the Seven put sanity back in child rearing.
While waiting for the next case, Seven, the American slum child, showed definite desires to be initiated into sex. He chose Gina White, Kitty's youngest daughter. Gina, a beautiful fifteen-year-old, was a favorite because of her pronounced sexuality. She'd previously initiated One, the little African, with great success and had participated in the training of Two and Four. Gina was lithe and thin, pretty, with nice, taut breasts and a tiny waist and long, lovely legs. Slowly and gently Gina explained to Seven the procedure. She pulled off her clothing and let Seven examine her body. He touched her breasts tenderly. He pushed his index finger deep into her vagina. He was naked and his penis was hard. Gina played with it with soft, long-fingered hands. She underestimated his readiness. He came into her hand. Not being of the puberty age, he didn't eject semen, but he throbbed.
"Is that it?" he asked Gina.
"Oh, no, darling," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were so excited. We'll do nicer things than that."
"That was pretty nice," Seven said.
"But how about this?" Gina, lovely, blonde, looking much like her mother, put her head into Seven's lap and took his limp penis into her mouth. She could accept all of it, of course. She laved it with her xongue and put gentle suction on it and it grew to a finger-sized hardness. She did not make the mistake of keeping the oral sex going too long. She placed Seven on his back and straddled him. "This is it," she said, lowering herself onto him, sucking and taking his hard little penis into her fifteen-year-old vagina with expert swiftness.
"Wow!" Seven gasped. "Boy." He began to buck up and down wildly under Gina and went so swiftly that she was left on a peak of sensation. She continued to move until his penis went soft. Just as she sighed and started to get off the useless softness, One entered the room. He was big for his age, a strong boy with dark black skin and a penis a bit larger than those of his friends. Seeing Gina, naked, he felt it rise.
"Sorry," One said. "Didn't know you were busy."
"That's all right," Seven told him. "I'm through."
"I'm not," Gina said.
"Let's you and me have sex, then," One said.
"Go ahead," said Seven, "I'll watch, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," One said. He stripped quickly and crawled onto the bed. Gina, legs asprawl, put out her arms to him. He mounted her, his blackness a vivid contrast to her whiteness. His penis buried itself deeply into her and she began to buck in wild abandon, giving One a lovely ride. He came rather quickly, but not before Gina found her goodness and sighed and bucked and kissed One's lips.
"You look funny," Seven said. "When you have sex."
"You do it and let me see," One said. "I've never seen it."
"I can't," Seven said. "My penis won't get hard yet."
"Call Two," One said. "He's next door."
Seven went to the door and called the Arabian member of the seven. He was only too willing to demonstrate. Gina accepted him with willingness, having been revived by the unusual circumstances. She'd never had sex with more than one person before. Two mounted her. She was slick and ready. She lodged her legs around him and felt his penetration and then, with sudden inspiration, she asked Seven to kiss her breasts. He did. One got the idea and began to chew the other. So, with Two in her, One and Seven chewing her young breasts, she began to get wilder and wilder. However, her second orgasm was longer in coming.
"Hey," she said. "I have an idea. Let's call a couple of the other boys."
"I'll get them," One said. He disappeared. Gina marked time, not wanting to go. Two came in her. He pulled out as Three and Six entered the room. Three responded quickly. He took Two's place in Gina's pelvic saddle and she began to feel a massive uprising of lust in her.
Somehow, before she had peaked, the other members of the Seven, with an almost uncanny abilitv to know when their members were involved in something exciting, came into the room. Seven nude young boys gathered around the nude, flashing body of the wild, abandoned fifteen-year-old girl. Gina, beside herself now, suggested positions. She accepted one after the other into her thrilling body. And yet she was not at the point of orgasm. She was on a cloud, high in ecstasy, but the orgasm was elusive and she fought and pitched and accepted one penis after the other into her.
"Here," she gasped, finally, "lay down, One." She lay atop One, put his penis into her. She put her mouth on Two's penis, as he lay alongside. "In me," she told Three. Three mounted her, and using the slickness of her natural lubrication to annoint her brown flower, penetrated her anal opening, feeling the hotness of her bowels. She put out her hands and grasped the phalluses of Four and Five. There was left only Six and Seven. She had man-flesh in her vagina, her anus, her mouth, her two hands.
"Under my arms," she gasped, "do it under my arms."
She clasped her arms alongside her body. Six and Seven inserted their penises there and began to work, penises held tightly by her warm flesh. She came. She exploded into an orgasm which made her moan, which was so exciting that One came in her vagina, throbbing. Two throbbed in her mouth and Three pounded home into her anus and the others, almost all together, throbbed and grunted and seven male orgasms matched the one huge orgasm of the girl as she peaked and throbbed and then, exhausted, pushed into unbearable ecstasy, fainted.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The years passed with astounding swiftness. The Seven continued to solve problems. Gina White continued to be a sexual favorite with all seven, although younger girls were constantly being worked into the program, until, when the Seven were early teen-agers, there were girls their own age available while Gina and the older girls moved into more technical work with computors and the never ending task of data gathering. Kitty White, at fifty-one, was a mature, young-looking woman with a full body which still attracted men. She took advantage of this fact with great pleasure. Her sexual urge seemed to grow, rather than diminish. She had been called upon several times to have sex with members of the Seven and she'd done it without qualm. It was a different world inside the Incubator. It was an interesting world of work and undenied pleasure and satisfaction. She indulged in parties with her husband and Priss Tomas, who was a sexy thirty-three-year-old mathmatician on David Braith's staff. She had listened to her daughter, Gina's, description of her orgy with all seven of the young Wise Men with some amusement and not a little envy.
Muleholtzen was fifty when the Seven received their first big problem. The City Army of New York was on the brink of open warfare with the City Army of Chicago. The two great metropolitan areas covered almost half the United States, having expanded, having sucked other towns and cities into their maw. Each had ambitions of being the largest city in the world.
The Seven listened to the presentation with great interest, knowing the importance of their decision. If it were a good one, if it solved the problem, they were to be established as the one great force for good in the world. Muleholtzen's dream would be within reach.
Army faced army. Mayors made belligerent statements, demanded that the other city back down. At stake was an unclaimed strip of land ten miles long and fifty yards wide, a no-man's land between the two great cities.
"One city must triumph," Muleholtzen said, in his presentation. "At least that is the viewpoint. That is a viewpoint which had been getting mankind into trouble for milleniums."
"Yes," said Five, the Israeli. "The history of my ancient homeland is proof of that. Peoples had to triumph. The Assirians triumphed. So did the Sumerians and the Hittites and the Egyptians and the Phrygians. They triumphed, killing millions of people in the process. The human race survived, but do you know any Phrygians or Sumerians?"
"You're saying then," Six said, "that it is no longer necessary for someone to triumph."
"I think it's fatal for anyone to triumph now," Seven said. "What does it matter if one is a citizen of New York or Chicago?"
"Or the United States or China?" Four asked. "We know that humanity is not yet ready for one world."
"And yet this is a wonderful opportunity to show that war is silly as hell, to be making an understatement," Muleholtzen said.
"Did you ever hear of Sargon the Conqueror?" One asked.
"Of course," Two agreed. "We're back to Sumer, about two millenia before the birth of the founder of the Christian religion."
"And Julius Ceaser and Napoleon and Genghis Khan and Tammerlaine?"
"I think I see your point," Seven said. "As Gibbons put it, as long as mankind shall continue to bestow more liberal applause on their destroyers than on their benefactors, the thirst for military glory will ever be the vice of the most exaulted."
"That's a very drastic solution," Six said. "Can we get away with it?"
"Get away with what?" Muleholtzen asked.
"Taking out the mayors of both cities and their military leaders and shooting them down like dogs," Three said.
"Gloriously simple," Four said. "Men want glory. They seek it through conquest. The mayors of the two cities are thirsty for death and bloodshed, so give it to them, and give them a certain kind of glory at the same time. Let them be the last war casualties."
"We would have to establish an enforcement arm," Five said. "A drastic step."
"A gamble," Three said. "But a gamble which is worthwhile."
The decision took about five minutes.
"Gentlemen," Muleholtzen said to the gathered military leaders of the two city states, "we have called you here to stop this war between you before it is too late."
"I will present my demands," said the mayor of New York.
"I will present my ultimatum," said the mayor of Chicago.
"First," Muleholtzen said, "let me show you the simple solution of the Seven. Will all of you gentlemen stand over there, against that nice brick wall. We want you all together for this historic moment."
Thinking of the massed cameras, sending the pictures over the whole world the rival military leaders massed in two groups in front of the ivy-covered brick wall.
"With the world as my witness," Muleholtzen said, "here is the solution of the Wise Men. This marks an end to war!"
Two well-trained gunners, using old-fashioned, noisy projectile machine guns for effect, both bloody and noisy, mowed down the assembled leaders of the two warring factions.
"Now," Muleholtzen said, in the sudden silence while a shocked world held its breath and two assembled armies stood rooted in their jack boots, "this war is declared over. You men in the armies may go home."
"But he killed our leaders," said a soldier, leveling his laser rifle at Muleholtzen.
"So what?" asked his companion.
"Does that mean we ain't gotta fight?" asked another soldier.
"I think so," said still another.
"We can go back home?"
"My lawn needs mowing," said a corporal.
"It means we don't have to fight," said an amazed captain.
"Let's go home," said another soldier.
"I didn't want to fight, anyhow."
"Who cares about a strip of muckland, anyhow?"
"Sure. Let's cool it."
Muleholtzen breathed again. The armies went home. Later, two groups of housewives got together and made a joint park of the strip of disputed land.
A large African nation declared war on the Commonwealth of Australia. Muleholtzen borrowed an American bomb and a Russian missile and blasted the headquarters of the agressor without warning. The army went home.
"We have won," said Muleholtzen, as the world waited for the Seven to solve knottier problems. The Wise Men were accepted as the ultimate court. Nations submitted to their decisions. The peace-keeping force was large and heavily armed. War became a thing of the past, after being an integral part of man's history since the beginning.
The immense overweight of population was the next problem. The big questions involved religion and enforced sterilization. The powerful nations agreed to a quota of births and began to enforce it. They used the peace-keeping power of the Wise Men to enforce decisions on others. The birth rate plummeted. Soon, even those who were offended on religious grounds saw the wisdom of it. Living became easier. Money used for arms went into the production of food. The Wise Men suggested. The world obeyed. Benevolent dictatorship was again being proven as the most ideal form of government. The Wise Men managed the resources of the world, distributing them with impartial wisdom. No question was too small for their attention, no problem too difficult. Man, who could not guide himself, accepted without question the guidance of the Seven, who were something more than man.
Before his unfortunate demise, Dr. Effinbane E.C. Muleholtzen was honored before the new World Assembly. They were all there, those who still lived. Kitty White, a dignified, ancient woman was there with her daughters, themselves elderly. Grandchildren were in the back rows. Muleholtzen was hailed as the savior of mankind and it was announced that the first newly discovered habitable planet would be named for him: for one of Priss Tomas' children by one of the Wise Men, probably Four, the German, judging by facial contours, had made a fantastic breakthrough in the art of space travel. His new engine showed all signs of being able to drive a ship past the light barrier, thus taking a shortcut through limitless space and making travel to the stars possible.
Others in the inner circle expired. David Braith died a natural death of old age. Dr. Morna Paul received a heart transplant, but succumed to influenza with complications. Ed White passed away quietly in his sleep.
Kitty White, aged, failing, had tea with Mark Hopkins and Dinah Russell who, in their middle age, had decided on living together, not in an old-fashioned marriage but as companions. They talked of the Wise Men, almost immortal since they had never been exposed to the ailments and miseries of common mankind. Their life seemed complete. They had participated in a great experiment which was succeeding. The world cried, "Hail to the Wise Men!" The universe was going to open up to mankind. Trust in the Wise Men had wrought miracles.
"They are more than human," Kitty said, nodding tiredly.
"The world trusts them to the point of worship," Mark agreed. "They're all wise, infallible, noble, incorruptible."
"They're a bunch of sexy bastards," Dinah Russell laughed. "Would you believe that that nice One called me in the other day and made love to me with great enthusiasm, an old woman like me?"
"We were right in giving them unlimited freedom in everything," Mark said. "They don't know selfishness or lust or greed or anything evil."
"They're perfect," Kitty agreed.
"They work together as one," Dinah said.
"They'll live for almost two entire centuries," Mark said, "according to our estimates. By that time the world will be nearly perfect, too. The population surplus will be flashing out to the stars and it will be the best of all possible worlds."
So, in a rosy glow of self-pride, satisfaction, happiness, contentment, the three turned on the evening news to hear the last of the gossip columnists voice an undeniable, documented report.
In order to advance himself, in order to have more power than the other members, one of the oh, so human Wise Men had taken a bride.
"It is," the gossip columnist said tearfully, "the rebeginning."
