Roger Dutton was driving through Wooster, Ohio, his hardware sample case in the back seat, as usual ogling the girls and trying to spot the hardware stores, both at the same time.
As it happened, there were several likely-looking chicks on Wooster's main drag. Roger drove along beside one of them, a tall, dark-haired girl in her mid-twenties---at least 12 years younger than he---for about half a mile, until he realized he also had to make a few sales calls. A Roger Dutton was, after all, a salesman. He was also a dirty old man, an admirer of females of any age past pre-puberty, a Playboy subscriber, a purchaser of erotic literature, magazines and movies. Selling hardware was his occupation; sex was his preoccupation.
Roger parked his car near Elmer's Hardware Emporium, dragged his sample case into the store, and talked with Elmer himself for about a half-hour, coming away with a sizable order. Then, he decided to celebrate, in his own special way. He went back to his car, put his sample case in the trunk and a dime in the meter and wandered down Main Street, looking for his kind of boutique.
There were, as it happened, six fancy ladies' dress shops on the street. Roger wandered in and out of them, looking for the proper situation. At the "In Shop," he found it. The "In Shop" was one of those boutiques that cater to college-age girls, or girls who like college styles. It featured hot pants, leather vests, sweaters with ecology designs, long, brightly-colored gowns and the like.
Roger walked in and was pleased to see no less than three very attractive young girls browsing through the racks---two brunettes and a blonde. The blonde particularly caught his eye. She was wearing one of those tight, white sweaters and navy knit pants. Her hair was honey-colored and she had that type of skin that always seemed tanned.
After gazing at the girls for a few moments---enough to make sure he liked what he saw, but not enough to make his watching too obvious---Roger walked back through the store toward the dressing rooms.
Now most stores in big cities these days provide dressing rooms with actual doors. A few have curtains. The small towns have more curtains than doors, perhaps because there are fewer dirty old men in such places. At any rate, the "In Shop," had curtains. Burlap curtains that didn't hang right, as a matter of fact. Curtains that couldn't really be closed properly.
A saleslady, the store manager, most likely, a matronly 50-year-old, approached Roger, smiling.
"Yes, sir," she said, "may we help you?"
"Yes, you may," Roger said brightly. "Have you seen a red-haired woman, about 30, with a three-year---old girl in tow?"
"Sorry," the lady said, "I haven't."
"Hmmn," Roger said, evidently perturbed. "That's my wife. I was supposed to meet her here." He looked at his watch. "About five minutes ago, as a matter of fact."
"No one's been in of that description," the lady said sweetly.
Roger sighed. "Well," he said, "she's often late. Do you mind if I wait?"
"No," the lady said, "of course not. Why don't you look through the racks? You might find something you'd like her to try on."
"Don't mind if I do," Roger replied brightly.
The lady wandered away, no longer interested in him. And just in time, as a matter of fact. The blonde passed him, on the way to the dressing room, with a number of dresses over her arm.
Roger moved back, apparently looking at the clothing. Now he was well out of sight of the saleslady and of the other two customers. But he could see the changing booths perfectly. The blonde had walked into the one at the end, entirely unaware of him. She pulled the curtain closed as best she could, which wasn't very well. Roger took up a position of seeming innocence---with a fine view inside that changing booth.
As Roger watched, the blonde hung the dresses she intended to try on on a hook attached to the back wall of the booth and started taking off her sweater. She pulled it up, over her head, and off, shaking her hair free of it. She was wearing a delicate little white lace bra. Roger felt his loins begin to stir. Then the girl unzipped the side zipper on her pants and slipped them on too. She had splendid, shapely, well-tanned legs and a cute little ass that was barely covered by her filmy panties.
Now Roger was getting excited. The girl was down to her bra and panties and she was a real looker. Her tits weren't large, but they stuck straight out, making her bra bulge nicely. Her pubic bush was a shadow barely visible through her panties. She looked through the dresses she'd brought back to the booth, trying to decide which to try on first.
Roger's cock was getting hard. He put his hand in his pocket and gave it a couple of squeezes. Briefly, he wondered how the girl would feel if she knew she was being watched. Maybe she'd be embarrassed. But maybe she'd put on a show.
The first thing the girl tried on was a long, flowered gown. Roger was disappointed to see her step into it and cover up her luscious body. But he had to admit the outfit looked good on the girl. He gave his cock a few more squeezes and was rewarded with new tingles of excitement.
The girl wasn't too fond of the dress, it seemed. She took it off rather quickly, which was fine with Roger. Then, she reached for the next hanger. On it was one of those knit dresses with a wild animal pattern on it. Roger was squeezing his cock regularly now and he felt his breath getting a bit short.
The girl held the sweater-dress up to her body, as if she were considering something. Then, she slipped it on, her beautiful body again hidden from view. After a few moments of examining herself from all angles in the changing booth mirror, she took the dress off. Then she cocked her head and smiled a wicked little smile. She reached around behind her back and unhooked her bra. Roger's fingers fumbled with his dick through the fabric of his pocket. He was rubbing and squeezing now and there was a trace of sweat on his forehead.
The girl shrugged her bra off, slipping it over the changing booth hook. Now she was wearing only panties. For a moment, she looked at herself in the mirror, pleased, it seemed; with what she saw. She cupped her tits for an instant and gave them a squeeze. Then, she reached for the sweater-dress once more.
Roger had a hand in each pocket now and was pummeling his prick with increasing speed. The organ. was now hard and completely erect, and throbbing with pleasure. He let himself imagine what it would feel like to ram the thing into that pretty blonde in the changing booth and his breathing shifted into high gear.
The blonde stepped into the sweater-dress and zipped it up. She looked at herself in the mirror critically, noting especially how her tits looked. As far as Roger was concerned, they looked terrific. There was just the slightest sag to them, just enough so the casual observer would know there was no bra underneath. But evidently the girl wasn't satisfied. She raised her hands and stuck out her index fingers, rubbing them over her nipples until the little nubbins poked out against the fabric of the dress.
Roger felt his cock give an extra leap of excitement. The way it was now, he didn't dare be seen by anyone. His cock was poking practically straight out, making his pants into a tent-like pyramid. Still, he squeezed some more, rhythmically this time.
The girl unzipped the dress and stepped out of it, giving Roger a clear view of her tits. He was right, they were small. But they were perfect, shaped like little ice-cream cones, with a cherry-colored nipple on the end. He wanted to grab them and caress them. He wanted to flick his thumbs over those hard red nipples. He wanted to sink his fingers into her boobs. He wanted to get his lips around those nipples and suck until she was quivering with sexual desire. He wanted to jam his hand down past her panties into the forest of cunt hair between her legs. He wanted to stick his finger into her cunt hole and ream it out until it was dripping with cunt juice, until her entire body was jerking with lust. And, as he watched her, all of these fantasies went through Roger's mind.
The girl looked at herself in the mirror once more, still clad only in her sheer panties. The separation between her ass cheeks was clearly visible. She was concerned, though, with her tits. Once more, she flicked her index fingers over her nipples, making them grow, causing them to get hard, to turn a darker red. For a moment, Roger thought she was doing this to see what the effect would be when she put the dress back on. But not this time. She was actually playing with herself. As Roger watched, the girl's eyes closed---and her fingers continued their work.
His cock was practically going crazy by now. He knew that if he kept playing with it, he was going to have a mess in his pants. Yet he wanted to cum very badly. He just had to cum, while the girl was still there, while he could still see her.
The blonde had released her tits now and was reaching for another dress. She hadn't bothered to put her bra back on. Apparently, she liked the no-bra look. Roger approved completely. He'd even had the fantasy of planting bombs in the leading bra-manufacturing companies throughout the United States.
After the blonde put on the next dress, she fingered her nipples once more, making them stand out. Roger was also doing some fingering. His cock was just about as erect as it could get and he felt the first drops of moisture that came before orgasm.
He made the decision. It was safe, no one could see him. He quickly unzipped his fly and whipped out his dick. His right hand made a fist around it and he started pumping, up and down.
Suddenly, he saw someone coming, out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, he forgot that he was hidden from the shoulder on down. It was one of the brunette customers, with a load of clothing over her arm. She entered the changing booth next to the blonde's and pulled the curtain shut haphazardly. She hadn't even noticed Roger.
Now, Roger's gaze shifted toward the brunette as she quickly stripped down to her bra and panties. She had a much more voluptuous figure than the blonde, but Roger wasn't sure which one he liked better. Fantasies flew through his mind as he watched both girls now, his eyes darting back and forth between them, his hand moving up and down on his cock until it was practically a blur.
Just when the blonde was naked to the waist once more, Roger felt his cock lurch and a tremendous thrill shot through him as he began to spurt out his love juice. Again and again, his cock jerked and quivered, his eyes glued to the girls in the changing booths. He glanced down to see gobs of white cum shooting out of his prick, spurting onto a rack of two-piece bathing suits. Finally it was over, he was drained. He gave his cock a shake or two to get rid of any clinging drops of semen, then he stuck it back in and zipped up his pants. He wandered toward the front of the store, looking as innocent as can be.
"Your wife isn't here yet?" the sales lady inquired pleasantly.
"Nope. I'm thinking of going out to look for her."
The woman nodded without much interest and went over to help out the other brunette. At the moment, the blonde, who had emerged from the dressing room, walked up to the cash register, two or three dresses in her hand. . A glance told Roger she hadn't put her bra back on.
"Excuse me, miss," he said, looking at her tits just long enough so that she'd know he'd noticed, "I just wanted to say that I think you'd look fantastic in any of those outfits."
She girl blushed visibly. "Thank-you," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Just remember this rule," Roger said boldly, heading toward the door, "the less, the better."
He walked out without observing her reaction. He wasn't interested in picking her up. He was spent, for now anyway. But he loved saying sexy things and shocking people.
Satisfied for the moment, Roger Dutton got back into his car and drove down the street, toward another hardware store he knew of. There, he sold another large order. At the third store in town, he didn't do so well.
He considered his situation for a moment. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon. He could drive on to the next town, but the stores would be closed by the time he got there. Better to sleep here and get a good start early in the morning.
But that meant that Roger had time to kill. And it didn't take him long to figure out how to kill it. So far, Roger realized, Wooster, Ohio had been a lucky town. Perhaps his luck would hold. He checked into the local hotel, locked up his sample case in the trunk of his car and got directions to the local high school. It was just about the right time, he reflected. School should be out about now.
The high school, it turned out, was about three miles from the center of town. Roger had a bit of trouble finding it, but eventually he pulled up in front of the modernistic building. Teenagers were pouring out of the doors now, eager to escape the drudgery, happy to go their own way.
For a while, Roger just sat in his car, watching and feeling his prick tingle at the sight of the nubile, miniskirted young bodies walking by. No one gave him even a glance.
He reflected on the girls. Every year seemed to bring prettier teenagers, with more womanly bodies. And every year, they seemed to expose more of those pretty bodies. Teenage girls didn't look like this when he was a teenager, Roger thought, watching groups of them walk past, giggling and gossiping. He admired the firm young legs, the bulging boobs, the long blonde or brown hair, the innocent faces.
They weren't so innocent, he thought. The pill had changed all that. Half of the girls he was looking at, if those surveys he'd read in the newspapers could be trusted, had already been fucked. It seemed impossible. They looked so completely innocent, as if they'd run screaming from the sight of an erect cock. Yet 50% had welcomed pricks into their wet, virgin cunts. He even knew a few who'd welcomed his, he thought with a smile. With continued luck, he'd at least have one more like that today.
Roger Dutton went over his technique. It was all so simple, now that girls and boys were hitchhiking so frequently. All he had to do was drive around the school area, looking for a girl hitchhiker, pick her up, get her excited, and he could put another mark on the scorecard. But, from his experience, he knew that few girls tried to hitch rides this close to school. They walked for a while, until they got tired. Then they hitched. Very often, girls who left school late, maybe after choir practice or Spanish Club meetings or detention hall, sought rides. By then, the school buses had all departed.
After a while, Roger started his car engine and began to cruise around the streets in the neighborhood of the high school. The sidewalks were filled with teenagers on the way home, or on the way to the soda shop or the dime store or where ever. Now and then, Roger spotted a boy hitchhiking. Once, he was almost fooled by a fellow with shoulder-length blond hair. At the last minute, he noticed the absence of tits and continued driving.
After about a half hour, there were few school kids around anymore---and Roger hadn't found what he was looking for. He started driving farther and farther away from the high school, but no luck. For a while, he considered going back to the boutique, but realized his story would seem suspicious when told a second time. Besides, he wasn't likely to do as well as he did earlier that afternoon He drove back to the high school, looking for stragglers. There were a few, but none were trying to thumb a ride. He even thought of stopping and offering a girl a lift---without being asked. But that was trouble. He decided against it almost as soon as the idea occurred to him. The last thing he needed was to have some babe go running to the law.
Roger was about a half mile from the high school, just about ready to go into town and see what the bars had to offer, when he spotted her, a 15 or 16-year-old girl with long blonde hair that looked like it had been ironed (and probably had been), wearing blue jeans, sandals and a Mickey Mouse T-shirt. She was standing by the road, thumb out, looking for a ride. There were plenty of cars passing by, but, fools that they were, they were not stopping.
There was no hesitation on Roger's part. He pulled up to a quick, smooth stop right beside the girl. But, as he did, another teenager ran down the sidewalk, yelling and waving frantically. For a moment, Roger was sure it was another long-haired boy. But boys don't wear mini-skirts. Now two girls are a lot harder to seduce than one and Roger knew it. He had to take them both, however. He didn't have much choice. They were obviously friends.
The blonde girl opened the front door and jumped in, moving close to Roger to make room for her friend. The blonde, Roger thought, sizing her up instantly, was the athletic type, a vigorous, outdoorsy sort of girl, somewhat on the tom-boyish side. Her friend, Roger saw as the girl entered the car, looked like she might have been made of Dresden China. She was pale and angelic-looking with a tiny little nose and glistening light brown hair.
"Thanks for waiting up, Pam," she said to the other girl.
"It's all right, Penny," Pam said. "We should thank the man for giving us a ride."
"That's all right," Roger said, deciding he had nothing to lose by being suggestive immediately. "No man in his right mind would refuse to give two beautiful young girls a lift."
They glanced at each other and laughed.
"Yes sir," Roger said, continuing, "they make girls a lot better looking now than they did in my day."
"Oh, that couldn't have been so long ago," the blonde said. "You don't look decrepit to me."
"I'm not," Roger put in quickly, "I'm not, believe me."
"Thank heavens," the dark-haired girl said with a wink.
My God, Roger thought, they're flirting with me. "Which way, girls?" he asked.
They looked at each other and Roger thought there was something a little strange about it.
"Ah, just go down this street," Pam said.
"We'll tell you when to stop," Penny added.
"We certainly will," said Pam.
"You know," Roger said, putting the car into gear and driving off, "there's another thing that's changed about teenage girls since my day."
"What's that?" said Penny. She seemed to be leading him on.
"Well, if what I read in the newspapers is true, there aren't many virgins around anymore." He expected the remark to shock them, but they only laughed.
"Is your sister a virgin?" Pam asked Penny.
"She says she is," Penny replied. "But you can't always believe a ten-year-old."
Somehow, Roger managed to keep the car from veering off the road.
"What about the girls in your school," he finally managed to say.
"What about them?" Pam said, a sly smile on her face.
"Are most of them virgins?"
"Mister," Penny said, "there are two kinds of girls who are virgins today. Ugly girls and dumb girls."
"If you'll pardon the observation," Roger said after a short pause (during which he managed to regain his senses), "neither of you seem ugly or dumb. In fact, you're both very pretty and both very smart, I'd say."
"The man not only drives a nice car," Pam said to Penny, "but he also has good judgment."
Roger tried desperately to come up with another flip remark that would advance his cause. "You like sex, both of you?" he finally said, doing the best he could.
"Sex is a groove," Pam said.
Penny just sighed, closed her eyes and wiggled her ass. "It's the best thing since peanut butter."
"You both have boyfriends?"
The girls looked at each other again, with that same odd look. "Well," Pam said with an elfin grin, "not exactly."
"You play the field then?"
"I guess you could say that," said Penny, the angelic-looking one.
"Well," said Roger, finally ready with a witticism, "I'm part of the field."
"Mister," Pam said, "do you live around here?"
"No," said Roger. "I live in New York."
"New York?" Penny said. "Boy, I've heard a lot about New York."
"Me, too," Pam added. "All about the dirty books and dirty movies. Do you have any of those?"
"I sure do," Roger said, "but not with me." He cursed himself for not carrying his collection in his trunk, then he remembered he did have a couple of books in his suitcase, back at the hotel. He told the girls, who looked at each other with that odd expression again.
"Are you in a hurry to get home, girls?"
"Not me," they said, almost in unison.
"Then you won't mind if I drive back to the hotel to get the books."
"Not in the least."
Roger turned around and went back to the hotel. He was back in his car within five minutes, afraid the girls would be gone, or that the whole thing was a dream. They were waiting for him.
"You know," he said, handing them two paperback books and an erotic picture magazine, "it's against the law to corrupt the morals of a minor."
Pam looked at him with a wicked grin. "Do you really think you're corrupting our morals?" she asked.
"Maybe last year you would have been," Penny said.
"Or a year-and-a-half ago."
Roger started the car and drove back along the road he'd been traveling. The girls read through the books and looked at the picture magazine, giggling, pointing and whispering in each other's ears. Roger glanced over at them from time to time, trying to see what they were reading, or what pictures they were looking at. Once, he noticed, they had the magazine open to a double-page spread of two girls frenching each other. He saw a little movement underneath the magazine, which was sitting on the girl's laps, and Penny suddenly jumped and giggled.
By now, Roger had the very biggest hard-on of his . entire life. With the least little bit of luck, he'd end up inside both of their panties. For a starter, he made no attempt whatsoever to hide his erection. And, after a while, one of the girls looked over at him.
"Why, Mister," Pam said. "What's that lump in your pants? You got a growth or something?"
"You know damn well what it is."
"I don't," Penny said, feigning innocence. She reached across, over her friend and put her finger on the very tip of Roger's cock. He made it twitch. "Oh," she said, pulling back as if she'd been frightened, "it's alive."
"Damn right."
Penny put her finger back on Roger's cock and it twitched once more. Then Pam did the same.
"Hey, Pam," Penny said, "let's go to Lincoln Woods Park."
Pam turned to Roger Dutton. "How long you staying here, Mister?"
"Name's Roger. And I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I don't know when I'll be back, if ever."
"All right," Pam said. "Take the next turn to the right."
Roger did as he was told. Out of the comer of his eye, he saw something that intrigued him more than anything else so far. Pam had her hand on Penny's thigh and she was slowly sliding it upward. At the same time, Penny was parting her legs. No time like the present, Roger thought, and put his own hand on Pam's The girl didn't make the slightest objection. In fact, she too spread her legs. Roger moved his hand up her blue-jeaned legs, toward the crotch.
"Left at the next corner."
He took his hand away to make the turn and glanced toward the girls as he straightened out. Pam's hand was now in Penny's crotch and the angelic-looking teenager was squeezing it tightly with her thighs.
"It's up there," Penny said, pointing.
The sign ahead of them read "Lincoln Woods Park." Roger turned in. It was a magnificent park, meadows, fields and closely packed trees. He drove through the dirt road that ran up the middle of it. The place seemed deserted.
"Park there," Pam instructed.
Roger pulled over and stopped the car. The three of them got out. Pam took Roger's left hand, Penny his right and they walked into the woods.
"We have our own special spot here," Pam said.
"No one else knows about it," Penny added. "We come here all the time."
They walked down a path for awhile, then turned off it, heading into the brush. The girls pushed aside a few bushes and, after a few more steps, there was a clearing about the size of a bedroom. The grass was soft and dense. The spot was shielded on all sides by dense undergrowth. Only a helicopter could have spotted them.
Penny sat down on the grass and Pam sat beside her. In a moment, they were both lying down, Pam's arms around the dark-haired girl. They kissed deeply and, despite the fact that they were clothed, they rubbed their tits together.
Roger watched with open mouth. He'd picked up a pair of lesbians, he thought. Pam seemed to be the butch. She pushed her hand between Penny's thighs and wiggled it around, causing the smaller girl to sigh and rotate her hips. With her other hand, she caressed Penny's tits, which were large and rounded.
Roger bent over the girls, running his hand up Penny's naked legs and joining Pam's hand between her legs. With his other hand, he took hold of one of Pam's pointy tits and squeezed it lustfully.
Finally, Pam turned and looked at him. "I have an idea," she said. "You can help me undress her."
"I'd like that," Roger said.
Penny was also listening. She lay back and closed her eyes, completely passive.
Pam started working on the dark-haired girl's skirt, while Roger fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. He made it -a point to touch her tits again and again, noticing how large and soft-they seemed, through her clothing. It took him about a minute to strip her free of her blouse and another 30 seconds or so to get her bra off. For an instant, he stared at Penny's tits. They were massive pale globes, topped by large pinkish nipples. He cupped them with both hands and pressed against them. Penny sighed with pleasure.
Below the waist, Pam had already stripped off the girl's miniskirt. Together, she and Roger reached for the elastic waistband of the girl's panties and pulled them down over Penny's thighs. Between her legs was a patch of beautifully soft, curly auburn cunt hair. Roger immediately grazed his fingers over it and Penny pushed her pelvis upward, jamming her cunt against his fingers.
Now that Penny was completely naked and looking just about as delicious as a girl can, Roger turned toward Pam, the tom-boy. For a moment, Pam crossed her arms over her tits, as if she wanted to discourage him. Then, evidently, she had a second thought. She let her arms drop to her side and just stood there, smiling.
Roger glanced down at Penny. The pretty dark-haired girl had a hand between her legs and she was masturbating wildly. Her eyes were shut tight and there was a soft, sweet smile on her face.
He turned back to Pam, who seemed to be waiting for him. He put his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. Their lips met in furious desire. After a moment, both mouths opened and two wet, warm tongues met, sliding and slipping against one another, darting into one another's mouth, exploring the terribly sensitive places behind the teeth and on the roof of the mouth. Roger pressed his chest against Pam's pointy tits, feeling them' dig into him. He reached a hand down and pushed her ass toward him, so that their crotches met. He ground his enormous hard-on against her and she rotated her hips against him in return. She was young in years, perhaps, but not in experience or desire.
He reached his other hand underneath her Mickey Mouse T-shirt and worked on the hooks of the girl's bra. Soon, it snapped free.
"Come," she said, "let's lie down."
Roger didn't need to be asked twice. Together, they sank to the grass, beside Penny. The dark-haired girl's eyes were open now and she was gazing at the two of them, one finger pushed into her cunt hair, centered directly on her clit, wiggling and pushing and playing.
On the ground, Roger helped Pam off with her T-shirt and with her bra. Her tits were just as pointy without the bra as with them. She had dark nipples which were sticking out like pencil erasers. Roger bent down and first kissed one, then the other. Pam pushed her chest up, ramming her boobs into his mouth. He sucked on them like a baby, until the teenager was shivering with passion.
For a moment, Roger raised his head. Pam was unbuckling her belt and unzipping the fly of her blue jeans.
He gave her a helping hand, caressing her cunt a little as he rolled her pants down over her sinewy thighs. Then he pulled off her panties.
Pam had a fuller figure than Penny did, but it was no less attractive. She was well-filled-out all over, firm and muscular where it was good to be firm and muscular. She had almost no hips at all and a very slender waist. Her cunt hair was sparse and just as blonde as the hair on her head. Roger would have been completely happy to fuck her until the end of his days.
But there was another girl to consider, one just as beautiful in her way---Penny. Pam was already worrying about her friend. She'd rolled away from Roger and toward Penny throwing her arms around the naked girl.
Roger pulled back to watch. Pam clambered on top of her dark-haired friend, who spread her thighs like she'd done it a thousand times before.
"My God, Pam," Penny said, "I've never been this excited before."
"Me neither, baby," Pam said. "This is the best."
She pushed a thigh against Penny's cunt and started to rub against her rhythmically. In turn, Penny moved against Pam, her ass rising and falling, rising and falling.
While he watched, Roger began to undress himself. Of all things, he'd never expected this when he pulled up to the high school: two pretty teenage girls hot for each other and not about to resist, he was sure, his own advances.
He stretched out beside the rutting girls, luxuriating in the soft grass, the scent of pine needles and the smell of cunt juice. There was plenty of that. Roger could see it glistening on Pam's thigh. That was Penny's cunt juice, he thought. He watched as the girls mashed their tits together, their nipples jabbing into each other. Pam's thigh was pressed hard against Penny's cunt and Penny's thigh was tightly pressed into Pam's crotch. Both girls were panting now, passion robbing them of their breath.
Roger grazed his hands over the girls, over Pam's back, over Penny's legs. He touched their tits were they were almost joined together. He ran a finger down the crack between Pam's ass cheeks, tickling the girl's asshole for an instant, sliding past it into the curly blonde cunt hair. Pam seemed to raise her pelvis slightly so that Roger is finger could go where he wanted it to---into her dripping cunt hole. He shoved it as deeply into her as he could, feeling the hot crevices inside of her, titillating the sensitive tissues. Pam sighed and wiggled her ass, driving his finger even deeper.
With the other hand, Roger reached between Penny's thighs and dived toward her hot hairy cunt. He insinuated his finger into her cunt hole, deeper and deeper. She was even wetter than her girlfriend and. her cunt was surprisingly tight, if, as she'd implied, she wasn't a virgin.
Roger had a girl impaled on each hand now, but both of them seemed more interested in each other than in him.
They were kissing deeply and wetly, making sloppy noises with each other. Both bodies were twisting and churning and Roger had a devil of a time keeping his fingers in both.
Slowly, he became aware of his growing need---to plant that prick of his in some sweet, damp cunt. It didn't matter which one, but he wanted to fuck. He could feel the love juice gathering in his balls, ready to shoot into one of the girls, either of them.
Pam finally realized Roger's need. She could hardly have missed, since his enormous organ was jammed against her ass and twitching. She rolled oh' of her girlfriend, who looked around to see why she'd suddenly been deprived.
Roger looked at Pam. "I want to stick it in you," he said.
"And I want you to," she agreed. "But only on one condition."
"What?"
"You gotta fuck Penny, too."
"It's deal."
Now Pam was lying on her back, her legs spread, her cunt hair glistening with love juice---a mixture of her own and Penny's, Roger realized. He managed to hold off a few minutes longer, squeezing her tits and flicking her hard little clit, until a line sweat covered her entire body and she was nearly gasping for breath.
Finally, Roger lowered himself onto Pam, feeling his prick push through her cunt hair and stop at the entrance to her hole. She wiggled her ass slightly, until cock and cunt were perfectly aligned, then together they pushed. He slid into her slippery warmth and the thrill almost caused him to shoot off instantly. Deeper and deeper he went, until he'd crammed his entire prick, all six inches of it, into her young cunny.
Together, they pumped into each other, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Roger felt her tits against him, hot and pointed, poking into his chest. He ground his pubic bone against Pam's clit, until the girl was puffing with passion. Then, he snaked a hand around behind her, underneath her ass. He tickled her asshole and she shivered in response.
Now it was all Roger could do to hold back. He wanted to fill this lovely young girl with his semen, to flood her insides with it. But there was Penny there beside them. He glanced at her. Her attention was riveted to them, her hand still in her crotch. Roger didn't know whether the main thrill was seeing Pam being fucked or looking at his cock and balls. He turned back to Pam to find that she was looking at Penny in that special way again. What was in her mind, he wondered, what fantasy was she having?
Again and again, he pumped into her, ramming his cock into her hole---first straight ahead, then slightly to the right, then slightly to the left, pressing hard against her out of rhythm, withdrawing almost all the way, then jamming back in, full force. Suddenly, he was aware that Penny had joined them. Or, rather, that she had joined Pam. She was caressing the blonde girl, touching her boobs, running her hands along her thighs.
Pam responded by throwing herself all over the place, her body bouncing wildly, her hips gyrating totally out of control. The sighs turned into whimpering and the whimpering turned into moans and the moans became a series of lust-driven screams. Roger was barely able to stay on top of the girl as she shuddered out what seemed to be climax after climax.
Finally, it was over, at least for Pam. She slumped down to the ground, thoroughly spent. But she hadn't forgotten the condition she had imposed on Roger.
"You didn't come, did you?"
"No."
"Great. Then it's Penny's turn."
Penny looked at Pam in astonishment. "You mean you want me to let him screw me?"
"Yes, very much."
"But I don't want him. I just want you."
"Penny," Pam said softly, "pretend it's me."
All this went right past Roger Dutton. His only thought was of fucking the dark-haired girl and of exploding inside her. If he didn't shoot off soon, he knew, something terrible was going to happen to him.
"All right," Penny told Pam, "if that's what you really want." She looked toward Roger and smiled.
That was all the invitation Roger needed. He knelt down and began caressing the young girl, a dirty old man in a teenage heaven. She closed her eyes and responded to him as if she'd been waiting impatiently while he'd been with Pam. He ran both hands up her silky thighs and into her curly cunt hair. It was soaking with cunt juice. Then, he bent over and started sucking on her tits, first one, then the other, until they were both as erect as bullets. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and she was whimpering, as if in pain.
Roger's cock, which had faded a bit after that long bout with Pam, was now rigid as a board once more. More than anything, he wanted to put it where it belonged---into the hot, wet depths of Penny's tight little cunt.
Almost quivering with need now, Roger mounted the sweet-looking young teenager. He poked his prick at her cunt for a while, trying to find that magic opening. Penny spread her legs wider and wider, urged on by Pam. Finally, he found it, an extraordinarily tight little hole, but very wet and very warm. He pushed. No luck. He pushed again. This chick had a really tight cunt. He pushed once more and finally began to enter her, with her help.
Slowly, he shoved his cock into the young girl. The soft, damp tissues of her cunt pressed him tightly on all sides, grazing against his own most sensitive tissues, almost caressing and fondling his cock. He entered her gradually, until he was in her up to his roots.
Almost as soon as he'd entered here fully, he began to pull out. When he was almost entirely out, he shoved back in. He was about to do it again, when he felt Pam join them. He watched as her hand curled around one of Penny's tits. Then, to his astonishment, he felt her other hand, her fingers, specifically. They curled around his cock and began to caress and fondle. He was inside one girl and being caressed by another---both of them beautiful teenagers, all three of them lying on the grass in the woods.
Pam, he realized, was whispering in Penny's ear. He couldn't hear what was being said, but, whatever it was, it was having the proper effect on Penny. She was quivering now, her entire body jumping and jerking like crazy. Roger decided to continue fucking her.
He rammed his cock down into Penny's pussy, pushed and helped along by Pam's fingers, then he pulled out again. The next time, he took his signal from Pam, driving in at the urging of her fingers. And so it went, in and out. It almost seemed to be a joint activity-he and Pam were fucking Penny. .
And Penny was loving it. At least one of Pam's fingers, Roger knew, was diddling her girlfriend's clit, stroking and rubbing it at an incredible speed. Pam was responding to that finger---and to his prick---by bouncing up and down on the grass, so violently that Roger was having trouble staying on.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Penny was saying, her voice barely more than a whisper as she fought for breath.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she said, "fuck me, oh fuck me fuck me fuck me."
Roger did his best, which was pretty damn good.
Whatever Pam's fingers were doing to Penny's clit, they were also doing incredible things to Roger's cock, squeezing and kneading it, rubbing up and down in frenzied speed. The head of his prick was so swollen with excitement that every time he drove into the young girl he felt almost excruciating pleasure. His cock felt as hard and long as a billy club.
Suddenly, Penny's movements changed. From the up-and-down bucking motions, they shifted into a combination up-and-down and side-to-side swirl, their speed nearly doubling. Roger knew the girl was close to coming, very close. Her words of passion were impossible to understand. They were one long fluttering moan.
It was all too much for Roger Dutton. He rammed himself into the teenager one last time, plunging the full length of his cock into her insides, then exploded. He felt the semen spurt out of him like water from a fire hose, flooding her, filling her up with love juice, soaking her with the sticky stuff.
At almost the same moment, the young girl's body turned completely rigid, momentarily suspended in mid air. Then, she began to quiver and jerk, as if she were having some sort of fit. But Roger knew it was no fit at all, at least in the medical sense. It was the incredibly intense ecstasy of release. And no female, no matter what her age, had ever experienced anything more complete than this little teenager was evidently feeling right now.
The sound reached his ears somewhat later, or maybe his concentration on his sensations prevented him from hearing it as it occurred. At any rate, it was a low, keening cry, which turned into a steady scream---the kind of scream reserved for that moment when the elevator falls, or the tiger leaps at you, or the soldier turns his machine gun in your direction. But there was no fear nor pain here, only pleasure, the essence of pleasure.
After a while, the girl fell back, exhausted. Pam withdrew her hand from Roger's cock and Roger simply lay on Penny, exhausted. He fought the urge to sleep that often comes to men who've had a thoroughly satisfying climax. Evidently, Penny was experiencing the same urge. Finally, the two of them began to stir. Roger withdrew from the young girl, his prick now shrunken, and glistening with a mixture of her cunt juice and his sperm. The girls were talking with each other, kissing and touching.
Roger wiped himself off with his handkerchief as best he could, and got dressed. As he did so, the two girls helped each other on with their clothing. After a few moments, they looked just as young and innocent as they had when he first stopped to pick up Pam. Were they all this way now? he wondered. Were all the teenage girls ready to fuck like bunnies whenever the opportunity arose? Roger thought back on the girls he'd watched over the years. Were all of them simply waiting for an invitation? He vowed to himself that he would see, that he would be bolder. The worst that could happened, he told himself, was that he would be turned down. Then, he could try again with some other young chick.
"It's a shame I have to leave tomorrow," he said to Pam.
"Why?"
"Well, it would be fun to do this again."
Pam shrugged. "Maybe. But I like variety. Tomorrow, it'll be someone else."
"You mean you'll be hitchhiking again?"
"Sure. I do it every night."
"Are you always picked up by a man who ends up screwing you?"
"No, unfortunately. Sometimes some lady stops and picks me up. I never fail to get lectured then. But I try to pick my spots. It all works out, at least once a week."
"You mean you find a guy who makes an advance that often?"
"I make the advance if he doesn't," Pam said. "If I like his looks, that is."
"And what about Penny? Is she always with you?"
"No, this is the first time," Pam said.
Roger turned to Penny. "You were a virgin?"
"No, silly. Pam means it was the first time I hitched with her. She's been trying to convince me to do it for months."
Roger considered what the girls had said. "`You know," he finally said, "it surprises me that the two of you seek men at all. You seem to like each other well enough to do without."
"Oh we like men," Penny said. "But we also like each other. In fact we love each other."
Roger was shocked, despite himself. "Love?"
"We're sisters, you see," Pam explained.
"Sisters? Really sisters, in the same family?"
"That's right," Penny said, smiling from ear to ear.
"Must be some family," Roger said, as much to himself as to them.
"It sure is," Pam agreed. "I have a twin brother, you see."
The fantasy flashed through Roger's mind of the two girls making it with their brother.
"And then there's my uncle, who lives with us. He's 25," said Penny.
"And all of you have had sex together?"
"In every combination you can think of," Pam said.
They pushed through the underbrush toward the car and got in. "Well," Roger said, "I guess it's time to take you home."
The girls directed him toward a suburban street, to a little white house with a neatly-trimmed lawn.
"One last question, girls," Roger said.
"Shoot."
"Do your parents know what's going on between you, your brother and your uncle?"
Penny giggled and seemed to blush. Finally, Pam answered. "Mom does," she said. She seemed to be stifling laugh.
Roger just shook his head in astonishment. "Well, it's been grand, girls---thanks for the memories!"
"Just one favor," Pam said. "Could we have the dirty books and the magazine?"
"Sure," Roger said, "why not?"
He stayed at the curb for a few minutes watching them walk into the house, admiring, for the last time, Penny's marvelous legs and Pam's perfect ass. It was a sight he'd long remember.
Then, Roger Dutton drove off, to his hotel room. He couldn't get his mind oil the girls. Did they really make it with their brother and their uncle? What did Pam mean when she said her mother knew. Was her mother involved, too? After a while, Roger began to doubt. No mother would do such a thing, would she? And that uncle---he was just imaginary, wasn't he? Even the brother. Hell, maybe they weren't even sisters. Shit, maybe he imagined the whole thing. Then he thought of his poor, shrunken, exhausted little cock, now limp in his pants, too pooped to pop. That wasn't his imagination, that's for sure.
He had dinner at the hotel and retired early, thoroughly exhausted. He slept well that night. But he dreamed. He dreamed of having Penny suck him off. He dreamed of watching Pam's twin brother shove his dick up into her. He dreamed of the uncle, jerking off while standing over Penny, his white semen spurting out and falling on her naked body like rain. He dreamed of the mother, watching the whole scene and masturbating in a kind of delirium.
In the morning, to his shock and astonishment, Roger found that he'd come again, in his sleep. His sheets were sticky with sperm. He dressed and prepared to drive on to the next town, to sell some more hardware and to practice that all-consuming hobby of his. But he wouldn't soon forget Wooster. He'd had the kind of luck there that every dirty old man dreams about.
CHAPTER TWO
Roger Dutton arrived back in home territory, New York, on a Tuesday night, his order book full, his testicles empty. He gave his wife a cursory peck on the cheek, told her he was tired and went quickly to bed. The next day, he would have to report to his boss, Frederick Gessner. Gessner was a man who often worked out of his house, rather than his office. He managed a network of 15 salesmen all over the country, seeing that their orders were processed to the factory, making sure commissions were paid, talking over any problem areas, etc.
Dutton arrived at Gessner's home in suburban Great Neck at about 9:30 the next morning. Gessner's coed daughter, Abigail, opened the door.
"Hi, Abby," Roger said brightly---he'd known the girl for four or five years now and, like the dirty old man he was, admired her busty figure and sensuous face greatly. "Home from college?"
"Yes, Mr. Dutton," the girl said, smiling and opening the door wide for him. "It's summer vacation."
He walked into the house, looking at Abby as much as he dared. The girl was wearing a tennis dress that displayed those perfectly sculpted legs and was pleasingly tight on top. "Your dad in his office?"
"Yes. I think he's waiting for you."
Roger walked back toward the office in the rear of the house. He'd wanted to prolong that conversation with Abby, if possible, but there really was no way. Still, even the look at her he'd gotten had stirred that cock of his.
"Morning, Roger," Frederick Gessner said, "how was it?"
Roger opened his briefcase and spread out his sales slips. For nearly an hour, the two men went over the papers.
"Seems to me that you've done a good week's work, Roger," his boss said, clearly pleased.
"I wanted to get a good send off before vacation time."
"Oh, that's right. You're taking two weeks off. What did you have in mind?"
"Well," Roger said, "I'm going to spend some time with my family. And I'm going to spend some time at the office. I have to get my files in shape. Ever since we lost that secretary---Marion, I think her name was---my desk work has been in a terrible state."
Gessner nodded thoughtfully. "Strange girl, that girl. I'll never understand what happened with her."
Dutton shrugged. It was a well-chosen and carefully delivered motion. He knew exactly what had happened to the girl. She'd started getting obscene pictures in the inter-office mail. He knew all about it because he was the one who'd sent the pictures. He hadn't intended her to bolt and run. He just wanted to warm her up for his advances. Can't win 'em all, he thought.
"Well, at any rate," Gessner went on, "why don't you report back here before you take your next trip. We'll discuss the new line and work up some promotions." He stood up, ending the interview.
Dutton and Gessner shook hands and Dutton headed for the front door, hoping to catch another glimpse of Abby. No luck. The girl had evidently gone off to play tennis.
It was a beautiful day, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon, exactly the sort of day, Roger Dutton said to himself, on which New York girls like to stroll braless around the streets. And any time the New York girls were walking around braless, Roger wanted to be walking around gazing at them.
He thought for a while, then boarded the Long Island railroad. In about a half hour, he was walking up the steps of Penn-Station. He hopped a cab, getting off at 59th St. and 3rd Ave., near Bloomingdale's, one of the best girl-watching places in Manhattan.
Roger wandered down 3rd. Ave., watching the passing parade.
And it was a marvelous parade. The streets were nearly filled to capacity with shoppers, at least half of them, or so it seemed to Roger, being lovely young girls, high school girls, college girls, secretaries, young wives. They were wearing miniskirts, shorts, pants, tank tops, outfits that showed bare midriffs (everything between the bottom of the breast line and the top of the. pelvic girdle), filmy little tops in which fleshy tits jiggled invitingly, sandals that laced up the leg to the knee, bare feet, bare arms, bare legs, just about anything that could be legally bared.
Dutton followed a blonde teenager down the street, watching her ass move up and down in her tight blue jeans, her long blonde hair swinging teasingly back and forth over the clasp of her halter top. For an instant, he tore his eyes away from that bouncing baby fat ass and saw a tall brunette headed toward him, a girl with astonishingly blue eyes, tits like ice cream cones and hot pants that as recently as 12 months earlier would have gotten unfavorable attention from the law.
Dutton came to a dead halt, made the merest pretense of looking into a store window, then turned on a dime and went after the brunette. He kept a respectful distance from the girl, one calculated to keep her within his field of view at all times. But his attention was almost ripped way from the girl when he saw a gaggle of college kids walking by, dressed like they were on the way to the beach.
For a dirty old man, this was shopper's heaven. Except of course, the girls weren't for sale. Momentarily, Roger Dutton fantasized a time when he could have his choice of what he saw. He envisioned a moment when he could command them all into a large room, have them strip at his request, then examine them all minutely, disqualifying all with bodies and faces even slightly less than perfect and walking away with a half-dozen or so of his choice.
He let the idea run rampant through his mind as he watched the girls. About half the girls he looked at---and his gaze was bold indeed---looked back at him. There were raised eyebrows, haughty stares straight ahead, knowing little smiles, curious glances and, occasionally, total indifference. Of course, it didn't really matter to Roger. He wasn't trying to pick up a new conquest. He was merely giving his eyes an opportunity to experience ecstasy.
What he saw, not surprisingly, was transmitted to his brain, which reacted in its own special way, sending a stream of impulses throughout his body. His cock, that most favored part of him, began receiving signals that targets were in sight---or at least that's the way it acted, taking aim at every passing young lovely. There was a pleasant tingling in his loins, the kind of sensation that told him he was really alive.
He let it grow until he had a partial erection. A few quick motions with a hand in his pocket and his clothing was arranged in such a way that his state wouldn't be improperly obvious to anyone looking at him. By now, Roger's mind was buzzing with thoughts of fucking. It was a standard reaction on his part, something so natural that, short of sleeping, there was no way he could have halted it, short of going to sleep. And Roger Dutton wasn't about to go to sleep.
He gave his cock a little squeeze in his pants and marveled at how good it felt---no hands, no thigh squeezing, nothing fancy, just a little twitch on that cock muscle. Then he saw a beautiful young girl walk by, her black hair hanging loose, her tits bobbing with each step. "How would you like to feel this in your twat?" He . asked her silently, the words audible only in his mind. He gave a squeeze on that cock muscle, imagining that it was inserted deeply into the girl's pussy. She walked past, of course, eyes high, a neutral expression on her face, totally unaware of what Roger was thinking.
Then another one walked by, a 14-year-old, by the look of her, her face chubby with baby fat, her body well filled out. He gave another squeeze to his cock muscle and the organ twitched pleasurably in his trousers.
Two girls, secretaries apparently, passed Roger, lost in talk, laughing to themselves. The salesman fucked them both-at least in his mind's eye.
Roger Dutton spent his day fucking every good-looking girl he saw, at least in his mind's eye, his erect cock twitching and jerking against his jockey shorts. After a while, he got so turned on that he couldn't resist a visit to the nearest porno shop. There, he picked out a selection of books and magazines, stuffing them in the briefcase he happened to be carrying.
The day wore on. Roger grabbed a sandwich at Chock Full O'Nuts, then went into Bloomingdale's to browse. He actually looked as though he was paying attention to the merchandise. Actually, his eyes were on the shoppers, the female shoppers. He followed the prettiest ones from department to department, up and down escalators, even out on the street on one occasion.
After a while, Roger glanced at his watch. It was past 4:00. Soon, rush hour would start. The subways would be mobbed. Especially the Flushing line, the subway he used to go home.
As a salesman, Roger had spent precious little time on the subway. Today would be an exception. As he thought about it, he got an idea. The more he thought about it, the more excited he got.
Somehow, Roger managed to stay away from the subway until rush hour was well under way. Then, at about 5:00, he went down into a subway tunnel near Bloomingdales, bought a token, and boarded a downtown local for Grand Central Station.
The downtown local wasn't very crowded. In Manhattan, at least, it's the uptown trains that get crowded first---the trains headed for the wealthy upper East side. Roger . Dutton had no intention of taking one of those trains, at least not today.
At Grand Central, he braved the scurrying crowds, attempting to find the Flushing line, the subway that ended in the center of the Queens area known as Flushing, after passing the site of the 1964-5 World's Fair and the home of the New York Mets, Shea Stadium. Roger's apartment house was a short block from the last stop.
Stopping a subway conductor, he got directions to his train, scampered down a long series of steps and through a passageway and finally found himself on a subway platform that seemed to be inside a huge tunnel. On one side of the platform, trains headed West, toward Times Square, two stops away. At this hour, trains headed in that direction were practically empty. On the other side were the sardine---packed trains headed toward Flushing. They'd just picked up passengers at Times Square, and then at Fifth Avenue.
Roger Dutton scanned the platform anxiously. It was filled with businessmen, dumpy housewives on the way home from a shopping trip, teenage boys, construction workers and more than a few young ladies. Three of the latter were standing in a small group, anxiously awaiting the next train, ready to push themselves in. The platform was just about full by this time, but Roger managed to sidle over to the three girls and station himself behind them.
Then, Roger heard an unmistakable rumbling from the end of the tunnel leading from Times Square. In a moment, the train would be at the platform, he knew.. There was some anticipatory movement on the platform and he again found it necessary to adjust his position slightly.
At least one of the girls in front of him was a real beauty---about 20 years old, he guessed, with a slender, shapely body encased in a pleasingly tight blue pants suit, with long brown hair. Though she was standing with her back to him, Roger got a glimpse of her face---a sweet, innocent face, whose outstanding feature was lovely, luminous light brown eyes. The girls she was talking to weren't bad either, but neither was as pretty as she. There was a little blonde---or at least that was the color of her hair today-with big tits and a big ass, and a tall, too-thin black-haired girl with pointy tits that clearly weren't restrained by a bra.
Suddenly, the train roared out of the tunnel, rumbled up beside the platform and screeched to a stop. The doors slid open with a clank. Then, the rush was on. Everyone on all sides converged toward the open doors and Roger felt himself being swept along, all his careful positioning made meaningless. The doors had not opened directly in front of the spot at which he was standing, but, instead, four or five feet down. He moved toward the open door as quickly as possible. It was beginning to look as though he wouldn't even be able to get into the train. That was just as well. They girls had somehow got in before him and there were people between him and the brown-haired girl in the blue pants suit he fancied.
As it worked out, Roger was the last person to get through the door. For at few moments, it looked as though all was lost. He was so squashed in that there seemed no possibility of getting to where he wanted to be. Then, people started shifting positions, the elderly and the obese ploughing through the crowd in an attempt to get hold of a strap, the newspaper readers trying to find a way to open their papers.
Roger had little hand in what followed. He was pushed and pulled, pummeled and poked. At any rate, by the wildest of coincidences, he found himself exactly where he wanted to be: tightly jammed against the back of the girl with the blue pants suit. Behind mm was a huge Black woman---280 pounds worth of her at least, more half of her weight unconsciously pressed against him. He was surrounded on both sides by commuter-types. The effect was that he hardly had an inch of room in which to maneuver. But that was all he needed.
Roger moved his feet slightly and shifted his pelvis a bit, until his crotch was directly against the brown-haired girl's ass. He felt the sap begin to rise once more.
"I just can't stand these crowds, Wendy," the short bottle-blonde said to her brown-haired friend.
"Me neither. But my limousine has a flat tire, Irma."
The remark drew laughter from the other two girls. Ordinarily, Roger might have crept closer to Wendy very gradually, until he was tight against her without her realizing what had happened. But the packed subway made that totally unnecessary. She couldn't realize---at least not yet---that he'd chosen her purposely, that he wanted to be jammed against her in exactly this way. Roger felt his cock begin to grow; The train plummeted through the tunnel under the East River, the thin band of water that separated Manhattan from Queens, and ground to a stop at the first station in Queens. The doors opened and a few more people rammed themselves into the already overflowing subway car. Then, the doors shut and the trip resumed, the train now lurching from side to side. With each lurch, Wendy's ass pressed against Roger's growing cock. For once, he made no effort to rearrange his clothing so that his erection would have room to grow unobtrusively. Instead, he let his prick stand straight out.
If Wendy sensed anything, she didn't let on. The conversation between the three girlfriends continued inanely. Now, they were on the subject of men. Irma, the blonde, was talking about her boy friend---and about the fact that he only wanted one thing from her. The black-haired girl snorted and said she'd be delighted if her boyfriend made a pass. Wendy laughed at the appropriate places, but made few contributions to the conversation. Roger's cock was now fully erect. It was pressed hard against the girl's ass cheeks, aimed at the crack in between. The train lurched again and this time Wendy made the first subtle movement that might have been interpreted as showing that she realized what that thing was that was practically sticking up her asshole. She shifted very slightly, moving her ass crack out of the way of Roger's cock.
He finally yielded to his growing discomfort, and, after a struggle, managed to get a hand down to his crotch. There, he adjusted his pants and let his cock take its normal position, pointed straight upward. He'd only just moved his hand away when the train lurched once more and Roger again found his cock jammed hard against Wendy's ass.
This position, he decided, was considerably more comfortable than the previous one. It was also much more exciting. Each time the train lurched, which was quite often now, Wendy's ass rubbed against his cock, which was by now as hard as granite.
After a few minutes, Roger added little lurchings of his own. Did Wendy realize what was happening? It all depended on what was going through her mind, on how sophisticated and aware she was. A girl used to crammed subway rides might not think a thing about it, Roger told himself. She might not even realize that there was a man behind her, or so Roger thought.
He was getting extremely turned on by now. He had just enough room to move his pelvis around, to rub his enormous erection up and down against the girl's ass. It was firm and rounded, a very nice ass to rub against, he thought. He imagined the girl unclothed, then he imagined himself naked, the two of them still wedged tightly together.
"Whatcha doing tonight, Wendy?" the dark-haired girl asked her friend.
"Oh, I don't know," Wendy said, considering. "There's supposed to be something good on TV."
"No date?" Irma asked.
"No!"
"I don't know what's the matter with you, Wendy. You're such a good-looking girl, but you still can't seem to find any really decent guys."
Roger could see Wendy nod. What an ironic moment. She couldn't find guys, but a guy had found her. He increased his motions against her, sending new thrills through his swollen organ.
"All they are is hands," Wendy said sadly. "I'm looking for a man who will respect a woman."
The ironies deepened. Could it be, Roger wondered, that she still doesn't realize what I'm doing to her? Rhythmically, he pressed his erect cock against the pretty young girl, the only thing between them a few layers of clothing.
There was no return motion on Wendy's part, but neither did she try to move away. Was she totally unaware of his excitement? Could she be that innocent?
"Well, I don't know," said the black-haired girl. "I've had plenty of duds in my time and I think I prefer the animal type. They can always be tamed, you know, if that's what you have in mind."
"Yeah," the blonde girl piped in, "there's nothing worse than a dud."
Roger was dripping with sweat, he suddenly realized, his shirt sticking to his chest like wet Kleenex. He was breathing hard and his cock was pounding in his pants. At this level of excitement, restraint and reserve began to disappear. And so it was with Roger Dutton. The speed and intensity of his movements increased. Only a corpse wouldn't have realized what he was doing, and yet Wendy made no move to get away.
He was humping against her now, his motives and desires crystal clear. Anyone watching him carefully would have realized what he was doing---that is if he I could have been seen. But the subway car was so crowded that only his head could be seen. He did his best to keep his expression neutral, even as his body shifted into high gear.
Then it happened. Wendy made a slight, tentative move against him, a move not caused by any train lurching. Roger rubbed back. Wendy repeated the action, this time more firmly. And Roger rubbed back, aggressively. He felt twitchings in his balls---the semen was gathering. I And so it went, Roger rubbing his huge hard-on against the pretty girl and the pretty girl rubbing back, with growing enthusiasm. And yet she never turned around to see who it was she was humping with. She never betrayed the slightest sign that something unusual was taking place.
As Roger's excitement grew, he became bolder and bolder, shoving his cock against the girl, holding it in the crack between her ass cheeks, wiggling it around suggestively. And Wendy received it all willingly, shifting her ass around to increase the contact, evidently taking her own sort of pleasure from it all.
Then, a new thought occurred to Roger. He slowly moved his hand between his own crotch and Wendy's shapely ass, palm outward, his fingers caressing the girl openly. Still, she made no objection.
"Let's go into Gertz department Store when we get off the train," the bottle-blonde suggested to her girl friends. "I saw in the newspapers that they're having a sale on clogs."
"That's a good idea," the black-haired girl said. "My clogs are shot. You come with us, Wendy?"
"Sure," Wendy said, just as normally as if she didn't have some stranger's cock jammed tight against her ass, just as if she wasn't dry humping with the guy.
Roger was now so excited that he was practically shivering with nervous energy. He had his hand cupping one of Wendy's ass cheeks now and he was rubbing against her so purposefully that he was sure to come if he kept on like this.
Boldly, he reached his hand between the girl's legs, pressing his fingers against her asshole, reaching through her legs to touch her cunt. Now, for the first time, she gave a noticeable reaction---a sharp intake of air. But her girlfriends were so busy talking to each other that they didn't realize anything was happening.
For her part, Wendy started moving her ass against Roger's cock in small, tight circles. She was short of breath herself, Roger noted with glee.
It was the strangest scene he'd ever been in. The trained rushed along, making its stops, loading and unloading passengers---but staying crowded. All around him, people were reading newspapers and paperback books, talking to each other, watching the stops, looking bored, sleeping, sweating, thinking about millions of things---and totally unaware that in the midst of all of them, two people were engaged in a strange but exciting variation of the sex act.
If things went on much longer this way, Roger knew, he was going to cum in his pants. It would be a mess---and a visible stain. He wanted to cum badly, but not that badly. Then he realized that he had another option. He withdrew his hand from Wendy's crotch and fumbled momentarily with the zipper. The girl could evidently feel what he was doing, because as he unzipped his fly and took out his engorged cock, her-ass began to jerk against him in undisguised passion.
Roger's cock was now rubbing directly against the fabric of the girl's pants suit. He snaked his hand back between her legs and started feeling her up. Her ass wiggled against his cock in response.
By now, he was breathing pretty hard, panting almost. But so was Wendy.
The bottle-blonde looked at her with concern. "You all right, Wendy?"
"Sure," she said. "Just a little tired." It wasn't much of a sentence, but Wendy barely had the breath to utter it. As the train made its stops, the sardine-effect began to ease. Roger knew that he had to complete his little act before much longer or he'd have a subway car full of spectators. Frantically, he rubbed his cock against the pretty girl in front of him. The thing was jerking and twitching now in anticipation of the ultimate ecstasy. In front of him, his fingers were having the same effect on Wendy. Her ass was bouncing merrily and she seemed nearly unable to control her actions.
He felt it all gathering in his balls---a man-sized load of semen, manufactured for deposit in some hairy twat. Well, this time it wouldn't get that far, Roger thought. It would be deposited on that blue pants suit he was rubbing against. Perhaps it would soak through and the girl would feel it. Maybe it would even drip down inside the girl's panties, running down the crack between her ass cheeks. The thought was all he needed---a couple more shivering jerks and the sticky white stuff shot out of his cock.
Spurt after spurt of it landed on Wendy's pants suit. A few moments later, the girl herself gave the smallest shiver and sigh and her ass jiggled as if someone was tickling her wildly.
Roger rubbed himself against the girl to get the last of the semen from the end of his prick, then he withdrew his hand from her crotch. He slipped his cock back inside his pants and zipped up.
Only a moment or so later, the subway doors opened once more and about a third of the people got out. This time, some of the seats were emptied. Without so much as a backward look at Roger, Wendy and her girlfriends found three seats together and sat down. Roger clung to one of those floor---to-ceiling posts, gazing at the girl who'd just provided him with so much pleasure. She seemed to be pretending that he didn't even exist.
Looking at her, Roger let the fantasies flow freely. He thought of getting her name or telephone number, of getting her alone someplace and really putting it to her. He thought of getting his hands on those bulging tits and ramming his fingers up that twat for real, not just feeling her through her clothing. The only problem was approaching her. A dozen schemes went through his mind, none of them very satisfactory. Time was drawing short. Two more stops and it would be the end of the line. The train slowed and stopped, the doors opening and closing at the Shea Stadium stop. A few people got off.
Roger screwed up his nerve and moved toward Wendy, who didn't even look up at him.
"Excuse me," he said, as the train pulled into the Flushing stop. "Didn't you used to go to school... " The girls rose, jabbering among themselves, as if he didn't exist. For just an instant, Wendy's soft brown eyes met his. There was only the slightest trace of a smile on her lips. Roger stood holding onto the pole, unable to move toward her or out of the car. She brushed by him, . her tits briefly touching his arm.
"Wendy," one of the girls said, "what's that on your pants suit?"
Wendy reached around innocently and felt the spreading blotch near her ass. "Damn," she said. "I must have sat on something. Maybe a candy bar. It'll wash off. This is a wash-and-dry outfit."
And that was the last, to his great regret, that Roger Dutton ever saw of his subway love. But at least he wasn't frustrated.
That night, when he finally. arrived at home, he found that his wife's cousins were visiting. At first, the entire idea disgusted him. He hated relatives in general. But this time, his wife's cousins, whom he hadn't seen in four years, had brought along their 15-year-old daughter, Brenda. She'd changed substantially since she was 11, Roger noted, and all for the better.
"Roger," his wife Iris said, "Albert and Marlene and I are thinking of visiting Uncle Sam in Brooklyn. Brenda would rather stay home and watch TV, but you'll come along, won't you?"
Roger thought quickly. He hated Uncle Sam, who was a crotchety old man, sure to put the bite on him. He didn't like Albert or Marlene much either. And going to Brooklyn was just about the last thing he wanted to do. Besides, there was Brenda. He'd much rather sit around the house and watch TV with the teenage girl. Who knew what might happen.
"Dear," he said, "I'd love to, I really would. But I've had a tough day. I'm exhausted. I'm afraid I'll have to bow out this time."
Iris was clearly annoyed. "Roger, we haven't visited Uncle Sam in more than a year. It's simply not smart to stay away so long. There is the matter of the will, you know."
Roger nodded. "I understand fully, dear," he said. "But I'm afraid that I wouldn't make a very good impression tonight." He gave his wife a significant look, which translated into: If you force me to go, you'll be sorry.
"Yes," Iris said, resigned. "Well, that's a shame."
"I'm sure you'll represent the family well, dear."
They ate dinner-roast chicken, as it happened---in relative silence. Iris was quiet because she didn't want to provoke her husband in front of Albert and Marlene. Roger was quiet because he had other things on his mind.
"Well, Brenda," he said, turning to the teenager who was visiting his house, "I guess it's just you and I and the I TV set tonight."
"Guess so," the girl said sullenly.
"Anything good on tonight?"
"There's an old Martin and Lewis movie on at eight. But that's about it."
"Martin and Lewis, eh? Haven't seen one of their movies for a long time. Maybe it will be fun."
A half hour later, Roger and the teenager were alone in the house. Brenda was a typical teenager--long straight blonde hair, blue jeans, sandals, one of those ecology sweaters. Physically, Brenda seemed a bit younger than her 15 years. She was a little on the thin side. Her face seemed innocent in the extreme. Her tits looked large, but under sweaters like the one she wore, it wasn't easy to tell. Besides, she might have been wearing a padded bra.
Brenda watched the TV set and Roger watched Brenda, his natural horniness slowly taking command of his mind and body. After a while, he had an idea.
"You know, Brenda," he said, "I think I'm going to take a bath."
"Uh-huh," the teenager said, completely uninterested.
Roger went back to the master bedroom and took his bath-quickly. It was all he could do to keep his hands off his cock. He dried himself in a hurry, his mind buzzing with fantasies about seducing the teenager in the living room. Then, he slipped on a bathrobe---nothing more---and headed in to join her. She hardly noticed his return.
Together, they watched the old Martin and Lewis flick.
"They just don't make them that way anymore," he commented.
"Yeah," the girl said, her eyes never leaving the set.
Roger, of course, looked at the girl, the tingle quickly reappearing in his loins. His cock sprang to life as he massaged Brenda's tits with his eyes and wondered what sort of furriness lay between her legs.
"They're a lot more daring these days," he went on.
"I wouldn't know," Brenda said. "They don't let kids into good movies."
This time, she'd looked at him.
"That's a damn shame," Roger said. "I think you kids can handle anything us adults can. Even the sexy stuff."
By now, he had the teenager's full attention.
"I wish my parents felt that way."
"Well, they should. Hell, there are all sorts of things on the movie screens now---not just sexual intercourse, but homosexuality and Lesbianism, oral and anal sex, group sex, etc. Now not one of those things are any mystery to you or any other teenager, right?"
Brenda was completely confused. It was clear, first of all, that he'd mentioned several things she'd never heard of. But, second, it was also clear that she was intensely interested.
"Well, yes," she said. "We're not dummies, you know."
"That's exactly what I was saying. Hell, I have some stag movies in my bedroom that wouldn't shock you at all, I'll bet."
"Stag movies?"
"Sure. You know. Sex movies. Fuck flicks."
It was, in a way, the crucial moment and Roger knew it. The word "fuck" wasn't something an older man said to a teenage girl, not unless she was prepared to treat him pretty much as an equal, perhaps even a sexual equal. "Wow," Brenda said, "that's groovy. Do you show them to your men friends?"
"Hell, no. Iris and I watch them. It turns us on and we end up fucking better."
By now, the girl was paying no attention whatever to the TV set. Sex obviously interested her. She wasn't about to miss a word Roger was saying.
"Gee," she said suggestively, "I've never seen a stag movie."
"Well, you will someday, I'm sure."
"Yeah." Brenda was distinctly disappointed.
Roger's cock was completely erect now. He'd been talking sex with Brenda for several minutes now and it was enough to turn him on as he'd rarely been turned on before.
There was silence for a moment as Brenda tried to think of a way to get Roger to show the movies. She was curious as hell, as any virgin would be. But nothing had occurred to her other than curiosity.
"Listen," she said, "would there be any harm in showing me the films?"
Roger did his best to restrain an exultant smile. Once she started looking at those films, he was certain, it would be simple to seduce her. "Well, I don't know," he said.
"Please, Uncle Roger... "
"Uncle? Come on now, I'm not that much of an old fogey."
"Sorry, Roger. Please... "
"Well, I guess that one or two would be all right. The tamer ones."
"Why tamer? I'm not a child, you know. I'm 15-and a half."
Roger nodded. "OK, I'll compromise-----one tame film, one wild one."
"All right."
They went back in the bedroom and Roger set up the movie camera on the nightstand. The only place Brenda could sit was on the bed, which was exactly what Roger had in mind. There were no chairs in the room.
The first film Roger selected was on the tame side---if fucking, sucking, reaming and screaming are tame. It featured two young people---college kids, apparently. It started out simply enough---with ---the guy feeling up his girlfriend, while she played with his cock until his pants were hopelessly stretched out of shape.
Roger glanced over at Brenda. The teenager was stretched out on the bed, her eyes glued to the screen. And on the screen, the fellow was undressing his girl---while she was unzipping his fly. Brenda let out a little gasp as the man's cock became visible. And well she might have---it was a huge, dangerous-looking tool, complete with throbbing vein and purplish head. She let out another gasp as the girl's panties came off, revealing a thick thatch of tawney-colored hair.
Now that the two porno stars were naked, Roger looked at the teenager to see her reaction. The girl was still watching the screen as though her life depended on it. She seemed to be breathing a bit more quickly than usual, but Roger couldn't be sure.
On the screen, the lovers went through the usual routine---he stuck his fingers in her twat and sucked on her nipples until they were swollen and dark. Then he pulled his fingers out of her cunt hole and held them up to the girl's mouth to lick, which she did with enthusiasm. At the same time, the girl pulled on her boyfriend's dick, making the thing grow until it was truly enormous. Then she suddenly bent down and put her lips around it and started to suck for all she was worth.
Roger glanced over at Brenda. The girl hadn't changed her position a bit, except for crossing her legs. But now he was sure that she was breathing more quickly. On the screen, the young couple were sixty-nining vigorously, the man's tongue buried within the girl's hairy twat, the cunt juice glistening on his face, the girl's lips firmly wrapped around the man's huge organ. The young couple rocked back and forth in growing passion.
Roger was sitting on the bed, next to Brenda, watching her out of the corner of his eye. As he watched, she began to squeeze her legs together and release them. It was a telltale sign, Roger thought.
On the screen, the young couple broke apart from their sixty-nining and turned toward each other. The guy's cock was thunderously erect---but no more so than Roger's. The girl's cunt was positively dripping. The camera came in close as the guy slid his cock into the girl, then focused on her face, which was registering various shades of ecstasy.
For the first time, Roger found himself worried. He was so excited he could hardly contain himself. If his passions continued to escalate, he would shortly be attacking this young girl. How would she react? She was a virgin---she'd said as much. Would she fight for her virtue or would the films turn her on so much that she was easy prey? And what about her parents and his wife---how long would they spend in Brooklyn? What would happen if they walked in on something they shouldn't?
It was Roger's last truly rational thought. On the screen, the young couple was fucking away, the camera zooming close so that all could see the thick shaft, shining . with cunt juice, sliding obscenely into the girl's furry pussy, pulling out, sliding in again.
Roger moved over on the bed until less than an inch separated him from his pretty teenage relative. "You know what Iris and I do while we're watching this one?" he said, using up all his breath in the process.
"What?" Brenda said. She seemed to be genuinely interested.
"This." He extended a hand, placing his fingers directly over the young girl's pussy and pressing where he knew her clit must be.
The girl practically jumped out of her skin with shock. But Roger kept his hand where he wanted it. After she settled down a bit, he took her hand and placed it on his cock. Once more, she jumped with shock. Then, she settled down, still gazing at the screen, doing her best to pretend that nothing had happened.
"Then," Roger went on, as if he were reading the assembly instructions on a barbecue unit, "I do this." He insinuated his fingers between her legs, wiggling and pushing. The crotch of her jeans was warm, almost damp. The girl was excited, there was no question of that.
"And you do this," he went on, putting his hand on top of hers---the one he'd put on his cock. He pushed her fingers so that they encircled his prick, which wasn't difficult, since he was wearing only a bathrobe. Then, he moved her hand so that it went up and down. He took his hand away for a moment and her hand motion stopped.
"No, Brenda," he said, "you have to keep it moving." He show? her again and this time she followed directions.
"Good."
On the screen, the movie was almost over. The young couple were fucking furiously, their bodies slapping together, their eyes hooded with passion.
"Now," Roger went on, "we do this." He took his hand away from Brenda's crotch and slipped it under her belt, diving down under her panties, into her pubic bush---which was surprisingly sparse and soft. The girl gasped with shock as he touched her.
"And you do this." He pulled his robe open with his free hand and put Brenda's fingers over his naked cock. She kept up the motions he'd shown her.
Slowly his hand crept through Brenda's pussy fur. The territory got steadily damper and warmer.
Finally, the girl spoke.
"Roger, don't." There was a clear note of panic in her voice.
"Why not?"
"I'm a virgin."
"That doesn't matter. I'm not going to take your virginity."
"You're not?"
"Of course not," Roger said, adding, to himself, "at least not this time."
"I'm just going to make you feel good. And you'll make me feel good too."
And that's what happened. Roger fingered Brenda off to a monumental climax, after first changing the film. And she did the same for him, after careful instruction.
"Oh, wow," she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly, "that was fantastic. Did it feel that good for you?"
Roger shrugged. "Without being a girl, I wouldn't know."
"Is it always that good?"
"It's better---when you're fucking." He reached over and fondled the teenager's tits. She said nothing. After a while, he slid his hand back down into her panties. Sure enough, she was ready again. This time, it took only a few moments until she was twisting and turning with passion, far more unrestrained than the time before.
"Oh," she said, panting, "faster, do it faster."
Roger complied.
"Oh, oh, OH,OH GOD!" she shouted.
Afterward, Roger cleaned up the films and straightened the bed. He and Brenda assumed innocent positions in front of the TV set.
"Do it to me again,. Roger," Brenda urged him.
He checked his watch. "Well, maybe once more. Everyone will be home soon, I think."
"Please... " .
Roger went to work on the girl, who responded even more quickly than before. "How long will you be here?"
"Two or three more days," she said, fighting for breath.
"Good. I think it's time you graduated from virginity."
There was the sound of a key in the door and Roger and Brenda jumped apart. By the time her parents wife came into the room, Roger was slumped in his favorite chair, feigning sleep. Brenda was watching the TV set as if nothing had happened. But something had. She wanted to be fucked. She would be fucked---and soon.
CHAPTER THREE
One day, out of nothing more than simple curiosity, Roger Dutton stopped at his local newsstand to pick up a copy of the Village Clarion, a weekly newspaper that served New York's Greenwich Village area.
On the surface, the Clarion was an intellectual-hippie newspaper. It carried movie and theater reviews, columns on dance and art, ads on bicycles and health foods, page after page of apartment ads and similar stuff. What caught Roger Dutton's eye, not surprisingly, were the classified advertisements in the "Personal" column.
These ads were not swinging ads. The Clarion didn't allow its advertisers to be that obvious---no "Couple looking for AC-DC young girl," or "Well-endowed man seeking similar woman," etc. But there were massage parlors by the score---whore house ads, Roger quickly decided. There were also advertisements for photographic studios. "Bring your camera," they said, "and photograph lovely young ladies posing naked, as you wish."
While browsing through the ads for photography studios, Roger Dutton began to get an idea. He wasn't interested in taking pictures of whores, to be sure. But he'd love to take some pictures of young, reasonably innocent girls. Not with other men standing around with cameras of their own, panting and trying to conceal their hard-ons, but by himself.
An ad---of course! A help-wanted ad. The Clarion carried any number of help-wanted ads, for secretaries, editorial assistants, computer operators, free-lance writers and the like. It also had a few ads for models. He looked at them with suspicion, but they seemed legitimate enough. Now, all he had to do was imitate their language, set up a post office box, rent a room somewhere and haul his old camera out of the back of the bedroom closet and choose which of the applicants he wanted to photograph most, if that was the right word.
After studying the legitimate ads, he picked up a ball-point pen and started writing: "Top magazine photographer needs young female models for special assignment. Successful applicants must be unknown, between the ages of 16 and 22. Ingenue look preferred. Starting salary: $25/ hr. Send photograph to BOX #... " At the Clarion, he arranged for a box number, wrote it into the ad, and handed it to the ad-taker, a plumpish girl in her mid---20s with granny glasses. She read the copy of the piece of paper, looked up at Roger and smiled.
"That'll be $5.75," she said.
Roger reached into his pocket and handed her the money.
"Good luck," she said, a knowing look in her eyes.
"Thank you."
Of course, placing an ad in a newspaper, having it published, and then waiting for replies takes time. Roger spent the time at home, watching TV, working on his account sheets, planning his next trip into the hinterland, making nice with his wife and wandering through the city. He even took a few subway rides, but was unable to make it the sort of "connection" he'd achieved that one time.
He spent a lot of time in a huge botanical garden on Long Island. Now a botanical garden is just about the last place you'd expect a dirty old man to frequent. Traditionally, the only visitors to such places are nice English ladies, athletic German couples in their 50s and third grade classes on field trips. But times have changed. The young have discovered ecology. They've also discovered the joys of smoking a joint in the great outdoors, in the warm sunlight, the cool breezes and on the soft grass. To the great distraction of the keepers of the garden, who felt that only nice English ladies and old German couples really had the right to appreciate nature---certainly not drug-smoking hippies---young people came in droves, dressed in the uniform of the day---jeans, sandals or bare feet, bare midriffs, braless and probably pantyless, in groups, with friends of both sexes.
Roger Dutton discovered this by accident one day when one of his friends dragged him-----kicking and screaming---to the botanical garden. After that first reluctant visit, he returned many a time.
One day, while waiting for replies to his ad to start coming in---if there were to be any---he took that camera of his, rented a telephoto lens at the camera shop and went to the botanical gardens.
It was a Wednesday, but, with school out for the summer, it was jammed with teenagers. The weather was warm and they seemed to be wearing less than usual. Roger attracted little attention as he walked around, camera slung from a strap around his neck. Every once in a while, he lifted it to his eye and peered at the crowd of teenagers on the meadow. The telephoto lens was so good that no one even realized that he---actually, she---was the subject of Roger's photographic attentions. Wandering around the gardens, Roger found himself clicking away at a frantic rate. The girls were in full bloom today. Roger used his telephoto lens like a telescope, staring that the girls who attracted them---and there were plenty of these. The tingling in his loins was soon very insistent, but there was no chance of satisfying his needs.
Later, of course, he'd have those pictures developed---and blown up to 8 x 10 size. He'd examine them privately, letting his fantasies run free, driving himself to climax after climax as he imagined himself fucking, sucking and nibbling on the young lovelies in the pictures. They sat under the spreading oak trees, the young girls did, their flat bare bellies carelessly displayed, their firm little tits barely hidden behind filmy blouses. Roger wandered amongst them, practicing his camera technique.
For a dirty old man like himself, it was like viewing a giant Whitman sampler. There were tall girls and short ones, wispy-figured chicks and voluptuous ones, blondes, brunettes and redheads, innocent 14-year-olds and not-so-innocent 15-year-olds anxious to proclaim their sexual experiences with every little motion.
Roger loved them all, every one of them.
True enough, there were a large number of boys with the girls. But they were easy to ignore. Besides, most of them separated themselves naturally, playing catch with a frisbee or a football.
Roger had used up nearly three full rolls of film before exhausting all the marvelous sights in the garden's main meadow. But he was hardly finished. There were secondary meadows, well marked nature trails and many an unmarked by-way. He reloaded his camera and walked on.
There was a gaggle of young girls underneath an elm tree a few yards away and Roger stopped to take a picture of them. Through his telephoto lens, he could see that they were passing a joint around rather carelessly. He focused on one particular girl, a brunette, who was wearing nothing more than a halter and shorts. Her legs were long and lean, her thighs sleek and sinewy. This, evidently, was not the first afternoon she'd spent in the sun. She already had a deep tan. Though his camera lens, Roger admired the girl inordinately, snapping off shot after shot.
"Hey girls," one of them sang out, "we're in the movies!" She was pointing an incriminating finger directly at Roger.
The other girls immediately leaped on the bandwagon, looking and pointing.
"Let's give him a show," the pretty brunette said, stretching herself out on the grass and spreading her legs suggestively. Roger snapped away. The other girls imitated the brunette. Then one of them leaped to her feet. She threw her arms around a small tree nearby and rubbed her crotch against the tree trunk, her eyes closed in apparent passion. Roger continued to take pictures as she wiggled her body against the tree.
Another girl gazed wickedly at Roger and slipped her hands underneath her shorts, obviously pushing them into her crotch. Through his telephoto lens, Roger could see her fingers twisting down toward her pussy. Once there, they danced around furiously. She let her mouth fall open, a picture of lust---which Roger's camera captured several times.
Just when things were getting good---the other girls seemed ready to top their friends, if they could---Roger heard a group of people approaching from around the bend. Nice English-type ladies. Evidently, the girls heard them too, for when Roger next looked through his camera lens, the girls were against the tree once more, lying lazily on the grass, looking as innocent as butterflies.
Roger waited impatiently for the nice English ladies to pass. They dawdled excruciatingly, examining the tiny plastic labels tacked onto the trees and giggling inanely. Finally, they walked on. His eyes snapped back to the girls, camera at the ready. But they were still playing innocent. Soon, he saw why. The nice English ladies had been followed by a pack of young toughs, just the sort of creatures who would be attracted to and attractive to the girls he'd been photographing.
He waited around for a few moments, hoping against hope that the pack of boys would saunter on, content to sneer and make a few obscene remarks for the girls' benefit. No chance. They met and meshed like gears. Roger walked on, in search of new game.
There were more clumps of incipient womanhood arrayed around the gardens and Roger captured all of them on film, all, that is, who appealed to him. But the sun edged lower in the sky. The end of the afternoon was approaching. Of the six rolls of film Roger had purchased, only a single roll---36 shots---remained. It had been a good day. The pictures he took would provide him with many hours of pleasure and fantasy.
By now, Roger was deep in an unfamiliar part of the gardens. He trudged toward what he thought was the main path, only to be stopped by soft giggling, apparently coming from a -bunch of low bushes. He approached carefully, wondering what he might find. There was some movement ahead of him and another giggle---a tinkly, girlish sound that seemed to signal pure delight. Something was going on in those bushes. Roger was sure of it. But what? And how could he ever see it? He thought for a moment, then looked around him quickly. About 20 feet away, there was a willow tree. It had branches low to the ground---inviting to any climber. Its foliage was dense, dense enough to hide a climber from anyone innocently glancing at the tree. But could he see out? There was only one way to know.
Roger walked carefully to the tree, avoiding twigs, stepping like an Indian. He slung the camera around his neck and started up. More giggles. He threaded his way through the branches, pulling himself upward limb by limb. At the same time, he tried to peer through the leaves, trying to see where the giggle was coming from. At exactly that instant, the same damn group of Nice English Ladies pattered by. He was well above them by now and they didn't give him a glance. For a few moments, the giggling stopped, to be replaced by cultured tones and total bullshit.
A minute or so after they had passed, the giggling resumed.
Roger was nearly 15 feet above ground level by now. He moved out on a limb, pushing the leaves aside, trying his best to see where the giggling was coming from. Then, his perseverance was rewarded. Below him and to the left, he saw a flash of flesh. He moved farther out on the limb and saw more flesh. Still, he couldn't make out exactly what he was looking at. Cautiously, he pushed back some leaves.
Almost directly below him, now, Roger saw them---a young boy---he couldn't have been more than 17---and a young girl perhaps 14 or 15, at the most. The boy was lying naked on his stomach. The girl was beside him, also naked, lying on her back. He had a hand on one of her small, conical tits, his fingers squeezing her nipple. That's what was causing the giggling, Roger soon realized. Every time the boy squeezed, the girl giggled.
Roger quickly focused the camera, balancing on the limb. He had to get a picture of this. The boy was a gangly type, still reaching for manhood. The girl, though in the midst of adolescence, was already lovely. She had a narrow waist, small but very firm tits, nicely shaped legs and a patch of sparse blonde hair between her legs, just enough to cover up that pinkish slit.
As Roger watched, the boy's touching grew bolder and bolder. He ran his hand. down her body, along her stomach, grazing her pussy. In response, the girl's hips jerked upward to meet his touch. Roger snapped away, praying that the teenagers wouldn't hear the camera.
The boy pushed his fingers through the girl's cunt hair and she shivered, momentarily moving away. Roger took more pictures. The girl seemed reluctant. She gave the impression of inexperience, if not virginity. After a while, though, she began to respond, spreading her legs demurely to allow the boy's questing fingers to find her cunt hole. The young couple had found a small clearing among the bushes, hidden from all peering eyes---except from above. They'd stripped their clothing off---it lay in a small crumpled heap nearby. The whole thing had probably started out as simple necking, lubricated by a little marijuana, one thing leading to another.
Roger watched breathlessly, taking pictures as fast as he could. Meanwhile, the action below him was speeding up nicely. The girl had propped herself up on an elbow and, at the boy's urging, had taken his swelling cock in her hand and was squeezing it. Roger looked at the boy's prick clinically. The rest of the boy might have been immature, but there was nothing boyish about that wang of his.
Suddenly, the boy lifted up and pulled the girl to him, squeezing her tightly---against him, wiggling his cock against her hairy cunt. Evidently, he was pulling her with considerable strength, for the girl seemed to struggle in an attempt to get away. The boy kissed her passionately and the struggle ceased and she melted against him.
From above, Roger was still taking photographs. But the pace had slowed a bit now. He realized he had only one roll of film left, the roll in his camera---20 shots, of which he had already exposed seven. He wanted to get all of the action, which meant that he'd have to be stingy with the camera from now on.
As he watched, the boy slowly pushed the girl over, until he was lying on top of her, covering her almost completely. Roger could see his balls hanging loose. Below him, the girl didn't seem to be completely convinced that she wanted this, but the boy wasn't giving her much of a choice. He stuck a knee between her legs and pried them open. Still, she wasn't all resistance. Once spread, her legs stayed that way. Roger snapped off another shot.
By now, the giggling had stopped. Instead Roger heard the distinct sound of whimpering---coming from the girl.
"Oh Dave," she said, "don't, please don't."
"Why not, Sheila. Don't we love each other?"
"Yes, but... "
"What do you mean `yes, but'?"
"Well, what if I got pregnant?"
"Pregnant? You'll never get pregnant-not if we just do it once."
"You mean that we have to do it more than once if I'm to get pregnant?"
"Sure, silly. Four or five times at least. My brother told me and he ought to know. He's got three kids, you know."
"Yeah."
The argument, false though it was, seemed to convince the young girl. She visibly relaxed underneath him opening herself up to him totally. And the boy didn't wait a moment. He lifted himself up on the girl and pushed. Roger snapped the picture.
The girl's face seemed to be contorted with pain, at least momentarily. Roger snapped another picture. The boy rammed down into the girl, plunging his cock into her virgin cunt. She trembled with passion, giving out a small, but definite cry. As Roger watched and snapped off a few more shots, the boy continued to pump in and out of the girl. After a while, the girl's hips began to rise in response.
The boy was jamming his cock into his young girl friend faster and faster and both of them were whimpering with pleasure, all thought of caution behind them. Soon, he was slapping his body against hers. There was no style to it, no technique---just raw passion. And it wasn't just passion on the boy's part---the girl was returning his feelings in full.
Roger was having trouble himself, now. He was so excited he could scarcely keep his hands off his cock and yet so anxious to get good photographs. After all, this was the opportunity of a lifetime for him. He would treasure these pictures for years, if he could find anyplace to develop and enlarge them. Already, he imagined himself gazing at the shots and furiously jerking off. What a gas it would be to do it right now, to play with himself as he watched the two of them fucking below---but he couldn't take the chance.
The action was fast and furious beneath him by now. There was moaning and the boy was planted in the girl all the way up to his roots. His entire body was quivering with each thrust and it was evident that he wanted nothing more than to release his semen inside the girl. Perhaps he knew that he'd been talking nonsense when he said they had to fuck a few times before worrying about pregnancy. Maybe he wanted to make her pregnant. Maybe he was excited by the gamble. Roger couldn't be sure, but all the thoughts he was thinking made him so excited he was having trouble keeping his balance in that tree. He knew that if he slipped, it would be pure catastrophe, though. Somehow, he stayed aloft.
Beneath him, things were going hot and heavy. The girl's hips were churning on the grass and the boy was pumping into her time and time again, at high speed. Roger clicked off another shot. Then, he glanced at his camera. One picture left. He wanted to save it, to catch the moment perfectly.
A few moments later, as he watched, the motions of the boy and girl on the little clearing suddenly went wild. Roger recognized what was happening from the way the boy was squeezing his ass cheeks-he was pumping that white stuff into his girlfriend's twat. Then, the girl let out a small but definite scream---she, too, was shooting off. Roger snapped off the picture just in time.
Below him, the teenagers were quiet. Roger's own need was nearly driving him wild by now, but there was no help for it. He started down the tree---but just then, another group of Nice English Ladies happened by. He was stuck. There was a rustle in the bushes near where the ` teenagers had been fucking and he saw them emerge from their hiding place, dressed now, a bit rumpled, but not so disheveled that the Nice English Ladies would be scandalized.
The teenagers walked quickly down the path, followed, soon enough, by the flower-fanciers. Roger was left in the tree, his cock pounding with excitement. For a moment, he considered coming down the tree. Then, he changed his mind. There was a fantasy he could discharge, among other things, if he remained aloft.
Quickly, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his swollen cock. He gazed at the spot in the grass recently vacated by the fucking teenagers, imagining the girl lying there by herself, totally naked. He wrapped his fingers around his prick and started playing with himself, jerking at it, rubbing his fingers over the most sensitive parts of it, wobbling on the branch he was standing on.
Visions of the young girl flashed through his mind, visions of the young boy fucking her, slowly replaced by visions of himself on the top, pumping into her, ramming his cock up her hairy twat, breaking through her virgin membrane, introducing her to the peaks of passion hidden within every female.
His cock started twitching and he felt a rumbling in his balls, the gathering of semen before the big explosion. His mind was locked on the vision of the young girl now, and in his mind's eye, he was fucking her. In his mind's eye, she was loving it. She was crying out with passion, shouting "don't stop" again and again, whimpering and moaning with ecstatic pleasure.
Roger came at that moment-he felt the semen spurt out of his prick, arch into the trees and shoot out of his body. As the waves of pleasure washed over him, he opened his eyes. Gobs of the white stuff were falling through the leaves, landing directly on that grassy patch where the teenagers had fucked. Spurt after spurt shot out of him. He was watering the grass with the seeds of his passion.
Finally, it was all over. He was empty. The excitement had left his body as completely as a candle flame that was doused. He gave his cock a shake or two to get rid of the last few drops of come, then tucked it inside his pants and zipped up.
Then, he climbed down the tree---unseen this time---got in his car and drove home. But not before he stopped at the camera store and dropped oil? his film for development.
"Listen, Chuck," he said to his friend behind the counter, "there's some pretty hot stuff inside."
The clerk's eyebrows went up perceptibly. "Sexy stuff?"
"Yeah."
"You and the wife?"
"Nah. Some kids in the park."
"Kids, huh?"
"Teenagers."
The word brought a gleam to the clerk's eyes. Roger had obviously picked the right man with whom to share his secret. "
"Really dirty?"
"Damn right, Chuck," Roger said. "And if you can get them developed for me, you can have a copy of every shot you like. I'll even foot the bill."
Chuck didn't need any more convincing. "l know just how to do it," he said, excitement showing in his voice. "I have this cousin with a darkroom. He's really a pro. He'll do the job for us real cheap---as long as he can have prints for himself. "
"Sure," Roger said, "why not?"
Satisfied that his film was in good hands, Roger went ` home and slept like a baby. The next morning, he would check at his box at the Village Clarion. By now, there should be plenty of responses waiting for him---along with plenty of new adventures.
The Village Clarion actually has a set of cubby holes to service the box numbers they give out for receiving replies to classified ads. When Roger arrived at the newspaper the following morning, he was pleased to see that there were more than a dozen responses in his cubbyhole. The same girl clerk who'd taken his ad handed him the replies, with the kind of funny little smile that showed she knew exactly what the ad was all about.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't," she said wryly.
"I trust that gives me a lot of leeway," Roger replied, instantly regretting his acid tone.
He stuffed the envelopes in his pocket and headed for his mid-town office. He didn't actually have a private office of his own, but there were usually enough absentees that he could use someone else's. Such was the case today. Marvin Miller was on a sales trip, which meant his office was free.
"Hello, Marilyn," he said to Marvin's dumpy little secretary. "I'd like to use Marvin's office for a few hours. Okay?"
"Sure, help yourself."
Roger Dutton walked into Marvin Miller's office and closed the door behind him. Marvin was the obsessively neat type---he kept a clean desk. That was fine for Roger's purposes. He had a lot of ad responses to review and he needed a clear desk to do it.
For a moment, Roger looked at the envelopes. There were all types---stubby regular ones, legal size envelopes, envelopes obviously taken from a set of personal stationary. He picked one on which the box number had been written with a soft, feminine hand and opened it. Inside, there was a small snapshot and a letter. One look at the snapshot and Roger knew this wasn't the girl he was looking for. She was a model-type, all right, but she had no tits at all, as her bathing suit photo showed. He opened another envelope. This time, there was a picture of a girl perhaps 13 years old. She was pretty enough, but barely into puberty. Just another hopeful, Roger decided. He'd let her keep hoping. He opened another envelope. This one was more promising. It contained another photo-of a girl perhaps 17. He studied it for a moment and decided finally that the girl was too plump in the behind.
The fourth envelope was the jackpot. It contained not one but several photos, all of a girl about 19 years old, posed in a bathing suit, a slack outfit, a miniskirt, and a leotard. She looked absolutely smashing in every shot, even though the photography was a long way from professional. She had exactly the sort of figure that Roger liked most: slender, well-shaped legs, a small, firm ass with nicely-rounded cheeks, a slender waist and remarkably large tits mounted high on her chest. Roger got a nearly instant hard-on looking at the pictures.
He opened the other envelopes, hoping against hope that one of them would contain an even better set of photos, but no luck. There were certainly some pretty' girls, but they were either too young or too old, too fat or too skinny. One envelope contained a set of shots of a voluptuous babe in a series of completely naked poses. In one, she was pinching her nipples. In another, she had a finger jammed up her twat. Roger's cock gave a little leap when he saw the photographs, but this wasn't the sort of girl he had in mind. It was the kind of girl you'd expect to find in one of those "photo studios." He wanted an innocent type.
And the set of pictures of the 19-year-old was just what he had in mind. He unfolded the letter that had come with the pictures. It was just as innocent as the photos. The girl, whose name was Susan Servan, wrote that she'd never modeled but that she'd always wanted to. She needed the money for college tuition. She was just about to enter her sophomore year at NYU. There was a telephone number included and Roger called it.
"Hello?" Her voice was soft and feminine. Roger liked that at once.
"Susan Servan?"
"Yes."
"This is the man who placed the ad for a model in the Village Clarion."
"Oh, yes. I was hoping you'd call."
"You've been selected for an audition, along with several other girls. Could we set up an appointment for sometime tomorrow afternoon---say 2:30. I have an open hour then."
"That will be fine, Mr.---ah---."
"Morton," Roger said, "Roger Morton."
He gave her the address of his rented room, then they both hung up.
Roger didn't leave the room immediately, though. He spread out the pictures of the respondents on the desk and jerked off into Marv Miller's wastebasket, imagining what it would be like to get the girls into the photo studio.
The photo studio---Roger suddenly remembered that it was nothing more than an empty room. If he was to look at all believable, he had to do some work on it.
The next morning, in preparation for Susan Servan's visit, he rented some additional camera equipment---lights, backdrops, flash units, developing tanks, etc. He lugged them up to his rented room and spread them around. All in all, it looked pretty convincing, he thought.
At 2:30, on the nose, there was a knock on the door. Roger opened it.
"Miss Servan?"
"That's right. You must be Roger Morton."
"Correct. Come on in."
In person, Susan Servan---Sue, she. called herself---was just as attractive as in the photographs. She'd brought a little suitcase with her, Roger was pleased to see---outfit changes, no doubt.
Roger made a pretense of looking the girl over for photographic purposes. He held exposure meters up to her face, looked at her through various lenses, etc.
"You have a very fresh-looking face, Sue," he said. She smiled demurely.
"I'm surprised you haven't considered a modeling career before."
"Oh, I've thought of it many times," she said, blushing. "I just love to have pictures of me taken. I enjoy the thought that people like to look at me."
Roger glanced at the girl in surprise. There was more here than met the eye, he thought. "Then why haven't you done it before?"
"Well," the girl said, "I have posed, for my boyfriend. But whenever I got into scanty clothing, well, he got the Wrong idea." . "The wrong idea?"
"Yes. He thought I wanted him to---you know. I just wanted him to take pictures."
"I see. That is a problem." Roger's brain was working madly. The girl wasn't going to be an easy lay. But he had something else in mind.
"What kind of modeling job will this be?" she asked at that moment.
"To be perfectly honest with you," Roger said, the idea barely set in his mind, "it will require scanty clothing. But I can promise. you I will make no advances."
"But what am I to model?"
"I'm doing a series of ads for a new, scented massage oil. The ads will run in Playboy, Penthouse, Cosmopolitan and similar magazines."
"Massage oil?" the girl asked thoughtfully. "Then you'll want me to wear no clothing at all."
Roger hesitated a moment. "That's right," he finally said. "Are you still interested."
"I don't know," the pretty young girl said. "Every time e I find myself alone with a man, wearing a bathing suit or something else scanty, he makes advances."
"Sue, let me assure you. I am a professional photographer. I pay high rates and I am paid well. I am a happily married man. I promise you won't be touched."
She considered the proposition a moment then, to Roger's surprise and delight, broke into a smile. "Okay," she said. "I trust you. When do we begin?"
Roger looked at his watch. "How about meeting me back here in an hour. I have to get hold of some samples. Frankly, I didn't expect to End the perfect model so quickly."
They met back at the rented room about an hour later. Roger had a box full of scented body oil, purchased hastily at a head shop down the street, the kind of place Sue probably never patronized.
"What happens now?" the pretty brunette asked.
"Well," Roger said, gauging the girl carefully, "you get undressed. There's a changing screen set up in the corner if you want. I have some camera adjustments to make."
Roger had put his camera on a tripod. He went to it now, throwing the black cloak over his head and peering through the viewfinder---directly at the girl, who was taking off her clothing without the slightest hesitation. Roger had thought about what Sue had said during the entire hour he'd been shopping for the massage oil. Unless he was guessing wrong, she was a natural exhibitionist. All he had to do was to bring out the urge.
Paying no attention to the undressing girl, Roger stepped out from behind the camera and set up the lights. He focused two spotlights on a wooden stool in the center of the room, turning off all the other lights. He put several bottles on a box near the stool. Then he took out the piece of black velvet he'd bought for this occasion and draped it over the stool. The effect was rather nice, all things considered. For just a moment, he felt like a real professional photographer. He slipped back of the photographer's cloth again.
The girl was totally naked now and what a sight she was! Those tits were round and melon-shaped, as delicious as could be. The rest of Sue's body was more on the movie star level than the coed level. Her legs, especially, were lovely and tapering. Between them, there was a delicate patch of cunt hair, dewy and innocent. Roger wanted nothing more than to get his fingers into it, but he had a feeling this was not to be.
"Now seat yourself on the stool," Roger instructed. "Cross your legs, pick up a bottle of the massage oil, open it, spill some into one hand and start rubbing it over your body."
Sue, as it happened, was completely unself-conscious. She did exactly as she was told. Behind the camera, Roger found himself clicking away again.
She poured the lotion out into her hand and started rubbing it over her shoulders. Soon, they were glistening with the viscous stuff. Then she started rubbing one arm, as if she were applying sun tan lotion. But she wasn't reacting to the oil as if it were sun tan lotion. It clearly felt good on the skin, warm perhaps, sensual. It was made with that effect in mind.
Before long, Sue closed her eyes languorously and let her hands glide over her body. She seemed to be almost purring.
"Now your chest," Roger said, encouraging her. Behind the photographer's cloth, he was sweating profusely. It was partly the heat, partly his own growing excitement. He studied the girl through the ground glass. Something was happening to her---something other than the fact that she was glowing with massage oil. Roger glanced at Sue's nipples. They were fully erect. She seemed to be breathing quickly. She was fidgety on her stool. Roger could hardly believe it---his subject was getting sexually excited!
She rubbed oil over her breasts now, a dreamy expression on her face. Roger snapped away, taking shot after shot. As he played photographer, Sue's hands smoothed the viscous liquid over her belly. The stuff seemed to bronze her, to give her an instant tan. Whatever the explanation, she was looking better and better. The slightly parted lips, faintly shining with moisture, added to the general impression of sensuality that was emanating from the young girl.
She was playing with herself, there was no other way to describe it. And Roger was having a ball taking pictures of her. "Your legs," he said, "don't forget your legs." Sue never even glanced up at him. But her hands slid down over her legs, spreading the oil, smoothing it and rubbing it in. At the same time, she was caressing herself, feeling the soft, velvety flesh of her calves. The expression on her face showed that she was enjoying it immensely.
"Your thighs."
Sue's hands rose, took on another handful of the lotion, then began to spread it on her thighs, her hands running ever so slowly over her sinewy muscles.
"The insides of your thighs."
Sue obeyed immediately, but without even looking at Roger. Her mind was somewhere else, her thoughts on her own pleasure. Her tits were heaving now and Roger was sure that if he'd been standing closer, he could have heard the young girl gasping with each breath. Slowly, a deep flush spread over her body. Without any urging from Roger, she fondled her tits, spreading more oil on them. She ran her fingers over her swollen nipples, sighing with pleasure. Then, she slowly slid her hands over her belly and along her thighs again.
It was the right moment, Roger decided. He had nothing to lose.
"Your pussy," he instructed.
She never hesitated a moment. She poured more oil into her left hand and placed it over that light brown patch between her legs. Slowly, she began to massage herself with the viscous liquid, her legs spreading as she did. As Roger watched, fascinated, she threw her head back and went to it full out.
As he snapped away, Roger realized that Sue Servan knew exactly what she was doing. She was jerking off and he was taking pictures like crazy. The girl must have heard the camera shutter snapping but it didn't disturb her in the least.
"Faster," Roger urged her and once more she obeyed. Her fingers, glistening with massage oil, dipped into that patch of cunt hair, fumbling for what Roger knew must have been a very swollen and sensitive clit. Then, she seemed to find it. Her entire body stilled and she threw her head back in passionate abandon. Her fingers massaged---they poked and pushed at her most sensitive places.
Soon, Sue was rasping with excitement. Her hips were twisting and jerking in an effort to keep the contact between her cunt and her fingers as tight as possible.
Roger moved the camera closer, but she didn't seem to notice. In fact, if anything, she showed even more excitement. The camera, Roger suddenly realized, the camera was turning her on. He got an idea.
"That's good, Sue," he said. "I'm getting some splendid pictures. I'll bet they'd look great in Playboy."
Sue groaned with pleasure. Her fingers slipped down along her hairy slit toward her cunt hole. Once there, she hesitated only a moment---then she rammed a finger into it, her hips bouncing upward with a jerk.
"Good, good," Roger said, more confident now. "Think of all the men who'll see you in that pose."
Sue's finger moved in and out of her cunt hole. Each time, it came out more and more shiny with cunt juice. And each time, the girl's entire body tensed---then relaxed.
"They'll probably stare at you for hours. You're a very attractive girl, you know. Some of them will probably get very excited. You can bet on that."
Sue's hand was a blur now. The palm was pressing spasmodically against her clit while her fingers were sliding in and out of her cunt. Her chest was actually heaving and her moans were audible clear across the room.
"Even the young boys will enjoy seeing you," Roger went on, watching the effect of his words with pleasure. "I'm talking about the 13-year-olds and the 14-year-olds. They'll probably swipe the magazine from their fathers, go into the bathroom, pull out their little wangs and jerk off while they imagine themselves fucking you."
The girl was throwing herself around on the stool so wildly Roger worried that she'd fall off. There wasn't the slightest trace of pretense left. She was jerking off for all to see, for Roger, for the camera, for the millions of readers of Playboy and especially for those 13- and 14- year-olds who'd jerk off themselves looking at her picture.
"Terrific pose," Roger said. "I can't imagine the man who wouldn't be excited by it."
"Oh, oh OH, NNGGH," Sue groaned, her body suddenly stiffening, her fingers---three of them---buried as deeply in her cunt as she could get them. She trembled with release for nearly a minute. Then, suddenly, she slumped back, exhausted.
But that left Roger with a problem---his own enormous erection, his yearning to fuck the young girl. He extricated himself from the photographer's cloak and walked toward her. At that moment, she looked up, evidently recovered from her passionate affair with herself.
"You promised," she said. "You promised you wouldn't touch me. Change your mind now and I'll scream."
Roger stopped. "I haven't any intention of touching you," he said. "It's just that you seemed to be having such a good time with that stuff that I'd like to try it---if you don't mind." .
There was a gleam in Sue's eye. "Well," she said, "why not. If you'll let me take pictures."
Roger shrugged. It was an interesting idea. He dropped his pants and reached for the massage oil. It felt warm, almost alive on his cock...
CHAPTER FOUR
Dirty old. men have a kind of radar that leads them unerringly to where pretty young girls gather. This facility was well developed in Roger Dutton. Stored away in the back of his mind were a million clues, a million tiny memories of where he might find his prey. He collected them while walking through the streets, talking with friends and customers, reading magazines and newspapers. He also did a lot of thinking about the subject.
Over the years, Roger had found a number of places where young girls congregated. There were some obvious places in the list---high schools either before opening or after closing (also high school athletic fields in the middle of the school day); drugstores, restaurants or other teenage hangouts; YWCAs; small town swimming pools or tennis courts in the summer; ice skating rinks in the winter; movies, especially movies starring the latest heartthrob; teenage boutiques; certain department stores---well, you get the idea.
Lately, one bit of information had been whirling around in Roger's mind with increasing insistence. It was a story---really several stories---about run-away teenage girls". They'd been gathering in New York's "East Village," one of the nation's leading hippie---druggie hangouts, a former slum filled with cheap, dirty apartments and lined with the kind of stores that appealed to this breed of teenager-shops that sold drug-related items, such as pipes, rolling machines and cigarette papers; or hand-made leather goods-sandals, belts, vests and the like; health food stores; used clothing shops.
According to the newspaper stories Roger Dutton read with increasing interest, teenage girls from all over the country were drawn to the East Village like a magnet. The reporter speculated that they went because they were revolting against harsh parental authority, because they were looking for drugs, or because they were seeking adventure. Whatever the reason for their arrival, what happened to them in the East Village wasn't always pleasant, the newspaper story said. They were frequently robbed. They often had trouble finding a place to sleep. They couldn't always get something to eat. Some were raped. Some drifted into prostitution. Others became beggars.
Parents did everything possible to find their young, runaway daughters. They advertised in underground newspapers, they offered rewards, they hired private detectives, they made frequent, impassioned calls to the local police. Sometimes, the families were reunited, sometimes not. All too often, the girls weren't seen again until years later.
Roger wasn't very much impressed by the emotional aspects of all this. He couldn't have cared less if parents and daughters were reunited. He didn't even have a great deal of sympathy for the girls who went wrong once they got to the big city. Those were the breaks.
What did interest him was the thought of all of those lovely young things wandering the streets, unattached---and unguarded. What's more, he thought, they were in need, usually financial need. How easy it would be, he mused, to offer one of them a few dollars, a meal and a place to sleep. And how easy it would be to fuck them in such circumstances. How could they resist? Why would they fight?
One day, one of these newspaper articles on runaway teenage girls was illustrated by a photograph of the East Village. Three different young girls were in view, two of them quite pretty, looking bewildered and helpless, way beyond their depth. They needed help. Roger resolved, then and there, to see what he could do.
Now Roger Dutton wasn't the kind of man who normally frequented the East Village. He was a beer and whiskey man, not a grass and cocaine type. He didn't go for those shabby clothes. He didn't even much care for those broad, brightly colored ties, flare bottom pants, long sideburns or long hair. He was on the wrong side of the generation gap and he didn't mind admitting it. In fact, that was one of the things that made his preoccupation as exciting as it was.
Nevertheless, Roger decided to go wandering in the East Village. He knew he would feel out of place, but that location had something he wanted: young girls just waiting to be taken. For a time, Roger considered going in his old clothes, even buying some of the new "groovy" outfits, so that he wouldn't look so out of place. Then, he realized that this was exactly the wrong tactic. What he needed to do was look like a rich Sugar Daddy. Then, he reasoned, they'd come to him.
If it weren't for his imagination, Roger might never have done it. Such a venture took a bit of courage. Roger didn't have much of that. What he had---and in excess---was lust. When he got excited enough, there wasn't anything he wouldn't try.
One morning, his wife out shopping, he lay in bed imagining a visit to the East Village. What would he find there---a young waif like blonde, scared and virginal, ready for the plucking? Or would it be a blue-eyed brunette who was worldly wise, who knew what he was after and was more than willing to give it to him? He lay there and played with his cock as he thought about it. Soon, his wang was hard and quivering. In his mind's eye, he was ramming it again and again into some young thing, preferably a protesting innocent creature who, in the normal course of events, might have remained a virgin until marriage. Time and again, Roger approached that delightful moment of no return, only to restrain his busy hand at the last possible second. He didn't want to shoot off today---at least not yet. He wanted to be just as randy as possible. For today was the day he was going to visit this new hunting ground.
Now he was being pulled in two directions. The first was to finish off what he was doing now, to play with himself until he reached a climax, until he shot off allover the sheets. The second was to "drop his cock and grab his socks," as they say in the army, to get dressed and head for the East Village. Bit by bit, the latter idea grew in strength.
Finally, Roger bounded out of bed, his pulse racing, his mind whirring with fantasies. He went to the closet and pulled out his best suit, his wildest tie---which wasn't saying much---and a nice blue shirt. He shaved carefully and powdered his face. He combed his hair carefully, so the spot where it was getting thin wouldn't show. Then, he got dressed. By now, it was 9:30. He knew teenage girls. It wasn't much use looking for them before 10:30 or so. Of course, the runaways might be different. They might be out scavenging early in the morning. Who could tell?
He got into a cab in Flushing. It would cost three or four dollars, but it was worth it. Some days, the subway was just too much for Roger. Especially when it wasn't filled to the brim.
"Where to, buddy?" the cab driver said. He sounded weary of life itself.
"The East Village, please."
"The East Village? Where in the East Village?"
"Ah, well, why don't you take me right to the middle."
"The middle? You mean St. Marks Place and Second Ave.?"
"Yeah," Roger said, "that's fine."
The cab started off with a jerk, pushing Roger rudely back into the seat. It bounced over the rough roads at about 40 mph. But that didn't bother Roger much. He was feeling his oats. He had an adventure ahead of him.
"Beautiful day," he finally said, deciding to make conversation.
"Yeah," the cabbie said. "Good day for a swimming pool."
"You like to go swimming, eh?"
"No," the cabbie said sarcastically, "I prefer driving a hack."
Roger nodded. "I understand."
"Listen," the cabbie said, "mind if I ask you a personal question?"
"Go ahead."
"Well, you know, the East Village. I don't ever remember taking a guy like you to the East Village. You got business there?"
"Not exactly."
"Listen, if I'm getting out of line, just say so."
"No, not at all."
"You looking for someone. Maybe you're a private dick."
Roger snorted.
"You a parent, looking for a runaway kid?"
"No," Roger said, smiling to himself, "not exactly."
The cabbie shot a glance back at Roger, via the mirror. "Oh," he said, "I get it. You're looking for some action."
"I guess you could say that," Roger said.
"Listen, buddy," said the cabbie, "if you want action, there are better places than the East Village."
"How so?"
"Well, I know some really hot chicks. Cheap, too."
"Sorry, not interested."
"Don't make up your mind so quick," the cabbie said. "Those chicks are really built. This early in the day, you could probably get two for the price of one, if you know what I mean."
"I know exactly what you mean. But I'm not really interested?"
"Too bad, too bad. You won't find nearly the quality in the East Village."
"Really?"
"`Sure. There's no money around there. The best hookers stay away. All you get is a few scabby-looking types. Sure way to get crabs. Or worse."
Roger nodded. "I'm not interested in them, either."
"Oh," the cabbie said, the light dawning. "Now I understand. You like cowboys. You're looking for a guy wearing boots. I know the type."
"Now listen here---!"
"No skin off my back," the cabbie said reassuringly. "Live and let live, I always say."
"You can think what you want," Roger said, now a bit angry, "but I'm no fag."
"Whatever you say, Mac."
They crossed over the 59th street bridge and into Manhattan. Traffic was terrible, but there wasn't any conversation in the cab, not for quite a while.
"You into drugs?" the cabbie asked. He seemed thoroughly puzzled.
"Nope. I like scotch."
"Yeah."
"Can't make me out, can you?"
"As a matter of fact, no."
"You always try to size up your fares?"
"Yeah. It's an occupational disease. And you puzzle me."
The cab rumbled over New York's potholes, the cabbie skillfully weaving it through the stream of Traffic as if it were a fast fish swimming through a school of dawdlers. Roger watched the passing parade from the back seat of the cab. New York, as usual, was filled with people bustling from store to store and building to building. Among them, of course, was a fair sprinkling of young ladies, dressed as girls in New York will dress on a warm summer day---in the shortest skirts the law allows, the most transparent blouses, whatever bras they owned back home in the dresser drawer.
Watching the girls walk down the street, their tits bouncing with each step, Roger began once more to remember the purpose of his mission this day. The cabbie's nosy questions began to fade away. There was that insistent tingling in his loins once more. Roger put his hand in his lap to help a little.
The cab was. heading down Second Ave. now, in the 30s, past antique shops and brick high rise apartment houses and pizza parlors. The cobblestone road was very uneven and Roger was getting quite a jouncing.
At 14th Street, they passed by a series of low-income apartment houses. "We're getting close," the cabbie said.
"So I see."
The neighborhood was getting visibly poorer now. Roger saw hippies on the sidewalks, shuffling along as if they had all day to get where they were going, which they probably did. Here and there, he saw a young girl walking along-exactly the sort of creature he was looking for.
"Driver," he said, "this will be line."
"Right here? Right side or left?"
"Ah, left."
The cab pulled over. Roger reached into his pocket and took out a $5 bill. He opened the door and handed the money to the cabbie.
"Whatever you're looking for, buddy, I hope you find it."
"Thanks. No sweat."
He pulled himself out of the narrow cab door and hopped out onto the curb, excited and anxious, his eyes darting around the sidewalk like a game hunter looking for a deer.
What Roger saw bothered him a great deal. The streets were literally filled with people, many of them young girls. Too many of them. How was he to choose among them? What was he to say?
Roger watched the cab pull away and felt for a moment as though he was stranded in a foreign land. At that moment, a young, dark-haired teenager girl in a purple and red tie-died shirt walked by and Roger was reminded of his purpose. The girl had a vacant look to her eyes, but her face was pretty and from those jiggling points visible beneath her shirt, it was clear that she was braless.
"Excuse me," Roger said impulsively, "is this the center of the East Village?"
The girl stopped and regarded him as if he were a creature from some other planet. "You straight?" she asked.
"Pardon?"
"You playing some kind of a game?"
"No, no," Roger said hastily, "just asking for directions. You see, I'm a tourist and I was told I'd find the East Village very interesting."
"Right," the girl said. She didn't seem to believe a word he was saying.
"You see," Roger went on, "I'm from Des Moines, Iowa."
"Iowa?" The girl's eyes lit up. "Isn't that where they have fields and fields of grass?"
"Grass?"
"You know, pot." She spat the last word out contemptuously.
"Oh. I do think I've heard something like that," Roger said.
"Well now, you want to know where the center of the East Village is, right?"
"Right."
The girl's hair was cut in a shag. Her eyes were light blue and her skin almost olive. It was a striking combination. She stood, Roger estimated, just a shade over five feet tall. It he hadn't have talked to her, Roger might have guessed the girl's age at 14. Now, he thought she could be. anywhere from 16 on up to 20. She had a certain confidence that was rare in 14-year-olds.
While he was sizing her up, Roger realized, she was sizing him up. Evidently, he passed whatever test she had in mind. "Tell you what," she said, "I'll give you a tour."
"You will?"
"Sure, for a price."
"What's the price?"
"Five dollars."
Roger hesitated a moment. He knew he was negotiating for something other than a tour of the East Village. Besides, if he made a deal with her, that would be it for the day. Was this the girl he wanted? He gazed at her, trying to decide. She was slender, but she had a good figure. She seemed sophisticated---perhaps too sophisticated. He needed more time to make up his mind.
"Well," he said, "I have about an hour. Would that be time enough."
"You're the boss," the girl said, holding out her hand. Roger put a five dollar-bill in it and was rewarded with what was definitely a seductive look in return.
"My name is Roger," he said, smiling at the girl.
"I'm Karen," she said, smiling back. "Shall we begin the tour?"
Roger nodded and they were off.
For the best part of an hour, Roger and Karen walked around the East Village. Through it all, Dutton was treated to a very knowledgeable recounting of what the place was all about. Karen showed him where the big dope transactions took place, where the big busts had occurred, where Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman lived, where there were communes, where the acid freaks hung out, etc.
"You seem to have lived here quite a while, Karen," Roger said.
The pretty young girl shrugged. "A few months."
"Where did you live before that?"
"New Jersey," she said, without thinking. Then, "Are you a cop?"
"Nope."
"Private fuzz?"
"Nope. Just a tourist, like I said."
She seemed mollified.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty," the girl said.
"How old?"
She smiled up at him. "You really want to know?"
"Yes."
"Fifteen."
"You don't seem fifteen."
She shrugged again. "You learn."
With every word the girl said, Roger found her more and more attractive and vulnerable. The sophistication, he saw, was largely surface veneer. Underneath, she seemed small and scared. There was a definite sensation in his cock.
"What are you going to do with the $5?"
"Pay rent."
"What do you do to eat?"
"Usually I eat with friends. Sometimes I do an odd job or two for one of the head shops. You know, like make hash pipes out of glass. That sort of thing."
Roger nodded. "What would life be like for you if someone gave you $50?"
"Oh wow," the girl said, breaking into a broad smile. "That would be like the sun rising. It would mean I didn't have to worry about a thing for a month or more."
Roger pulled out his wallet and ostentatiously withdrew two crisp twenties and a ten. He seemed about to hand the bills to the girl, who looked at them as though they were manna from heaven. Then he hesitated a moment.
"There is one spot in the village I haven't seen yet."
"What?"
"Your pad." He said it with the sweetest smile he could manage.
"Oh," she said, "I understand. I'd be happy to show you my pad, but I should tell you that I have some roommates who may show up after a while."
"Roommates?"
"A girl and a guy."
"Would that matter?"
"I guess not," the girl said. "If you don't mind."
"Might be fun," Roger said, his cock swelling to the thought of a foursome, possibly with some switches involved.
"Okay," said Karen, "let's go."
She waited a minute for Roger to hand her the money, then they were off.
Karen's pad was a fourth-floor walk up on 3rd Street, not far from First Avenue. It took all of live minutes to walk there, during which time the fantasies that leaped through Roger's brain had given him a thunderingly large erection. Together, they walked up the four flights of stairs, an exercise that normally would have cooled of Roger Dutton, but this day affected him hardly at all. Karen flipped out a couple of keys and unlocked her door. They walked into a small, dark series of rooms, sparsely but decently. furnished, considering the building and the circumstances. The girl switched on a light, then turned to her "tourist" friend.
"It's not much," she said apologetically.
"I think it's sort of cozy," Roger said, moving close to the young girl.
For just an instant, there was flat-out fear in her eyes. But it melted away with Roger's gentle smile. He reached one hand out and touched her cheek, wishing he could simply grab the girl and tear her clothing off. She received his touch without flinching, but without responding positively, either.
Roger moved closer to the young girl, who stood waiting for whatever he was going to do. He put his arms around her and drew her close to him, squashing her tits against his chest, pushing his pelvis into the cavity between her legs. Both of them were breathing hard by this time.
For a moment, they stood there, Roger gently rubbing against Karen's trembling young body. Then he released her and stood away for an instant. She looked at him, puzzled.
"I'll go, if you want," Roger offered. He seemed sure of her response.
Karen cocked her head quizzically. "There's no reason for that," she said softly.
Once more, he put his arms around the girl. This time, he was even more blatant about showing his sexual desires. And this time, the young girl responded to him, arching her body against his, pressing her pussy against his huge hard-on. For a while, they humped together, Roger feeling his erection grow to unheard-of lengths.
Once more, he released the girl. But this time, he had no intention of giving her an out. Instead, he reached for her tie-dyed T-shirt. She held her arms over her head and he slipped it off. Then he stood back and gazed.
Karen had those wonderfully firm tits found almost exclusively on girls 17 and under. They simply stood ` straight out, like little round pyramids. Karen's tits weren't large, by any means. They were small, in fact, but full of promise. After all, the girl was just 15. What was remarkable was her skin, which was smooth and flawless. Roger longed to touch it, and, finding himself with the desire, satisfied it. He ran his hands down her throat, over her chest and ended up cupping her tits.
Karen responded instantly to Roger's touch, drawing in her breath sharply. He didn't take his hands away immediately, but started toying with the girl's nipples. Olive-skinned people usually have dark nipples and Karen was no exception. Her entire aureole area was a rich chocolate-brown and the nipple itself was barely lighter.
As Roger played with the girl's boobs, the nipples began to grow. Soon, they were poking out like little door-bell buttons. Roger's cock had also grown with the stimulation it had received. It was so big now that it was pressing uncomfortably against the material of his pants.
For a moment, Roger tore his gaze away from the young girl and began to undress, starting with his jacket. He practically ripped it off. Then, he jerked off his tie. By the time he got to his shirt, there were small warm fingers helping him out, fumbling with the buttons.
Roger, with foresight, had worn no undershirt. When his shirt was gone, he once more took the young girl in his arms and held her close, moving his chest back and forth against her swollen nipples, causing her to moan with pleasure.
Then, again, he backed away and started working on his belt. Karen helped, pulling his belt free. He managed to grab the tab of his zipper and open his fly. After a few more moments, he'd slipped out of his pants. His cock was sticking straight out, curved like a scimitar, aching to cut a swath through Karen's cunt hair and into her tunnel of love.
Naked now, Roger started on Karen, quickly stripping her faded, ragged blue jeans from her body, pulling oil her shoes and socks. In a few more moments, they were both bare, standing fact to face. The girl was little more than a waif, now that she was naked. If it weren't for her perfect little tits, her luminous skin and her remarkably narrow waist, she might have seemed so slender as to be scrawny. Instead, she seemed almost angelically feminine.
Once more, Roger pulled the young girl to him. There was no resistance on her part. On the contrary. She melted in to him, pressing her tits into his rough hairy chest pushing her pelvis against his enormous erection.
"Where's the bedroom?" he whispered.
The girl giggled. "We have a mattress in this room and one in the other room. I guess they're both bedrooms." Roger looked around and spotted a double-sized mattress lying on the floor, a couple of dirty sheets tangled up on top of it. He slowly half-walked, half-danced the girl toward the mattress, lowering her gently to the surface.
They were both lying down now and Roger was fondling Karen's young body, running his hands over her erect nipples, sliding them down her astonishingly smooth belly-flesh into the tangle of soft cunt hair at the apex of her legs. At his touch, the girl moaned softly and wiggled her ass prettily.
Suddenly, Roger felt small warm fingers surrounding his cock and tickling his balls. There was a sudden leap of passion in his prick. Karen had made a fist of her fingers, with his dick inside and she was slowly but firmly pumping up and down in a motion calculated to turn him on, as if he wasn't already.
Now Roger's fingers pushed through the girl's cunt hair until they found her slippery little clit. With a forefinger, he poked it and pushed against it. The little nub-shaped organ quivered in response, growing and swelling under his touch until it was fully erect.
That done, Roger's fingers slipped down further, to the brunette's cunt hole. It was, as he'd hoped, dripping wet. First, he slid his index finger slowly inside of Karen's cunt hole, ramming it deep into the girl. The lubrication was complete. The tissues of the young girl's twat were swollen with passion, almost burningly hot to the touch.
Underneath his hand, Karen's hips rotated passionately. She was whimpering by now, increasingly lost in her own passion. And Roger was pretty hot himself. His cock was pulsating with her touch. If she kept it up for very long, he'd be shooting off soon over the both of them.
Roger rolled over on top of Karen, his cock pressed tight against her belly, his chest squashing her small, perfect tits, his large body almost completely covering his. It was his preliminary to fucking. In a few moments, he'd bury that huge wang of his in her hot, wet, hairy tunnel. Then, a few pumps and he'd drop a good-sized load of sticky, white cum in her twat. He itched to do it, holding himself back only because he knew that the longer he waited, the greater would be his release.
But finally his ability to restrain himself wore thin. He slouched down a few inches until the swollen head of his cock was pressed hard against the slippery opening of the young girl's twat. Clearly, she was anxious, too. She moved her hips around until the two of them were in exactly the right position to fuck. Then, she pushed.
Slowly, holding himself back as much as possible, Roger sank into the 15-year-old's cunt hole. It was remarkably warm, slippery and tight. It almost seemed as though she was a virgin, being taken for the very first time. Thrills shot through his enormous erected cock as the sensitive tissues on its underside scraped against the young girl's cunt hole. He felt the little quiverings and twitchings in his organ that signaled that the peak of excitement was near.
And then he began to slowly pump in and out of the girl, taking care to press hard against the girl's clit with each stroke. To his joy and delight, she responded almost immediately, her hips rising up to meet his pumping prick. He felt as though there was some kind of suction coming from Karen, drawing his organ deeper inside her, then deeper yet. Again and again, he rammed his cock into the slippery smoothness of her hot little cunt hole. In a few moments, he knew, he would be filling that opening with his creamy spunk, depositing a load of cum within the girl. He could feel his heart pounding with excitement. Here he was in the midst of a dirty old man's dream, a thirty-seven year old man, past his prime perhaps, humping away with a pretty young girl who could have been his daughter.
Beneath him, the girl was responding with unrestrained passion, her small, firm body twisting and turning, arching towards him and falling back, matching him stroke for stroke, her rhythm sublimely in tune with his.
The twitchings increased in tempo. If he kept on like this, he knew, it would only be a few minutes before he shot off like a rocket.
He heard something, some noise, coming from somewhere behind him. It was coming from the door. It was the lock. There was a key on the lock.
Roger stopped pumping instantly, as if he'd suddenly been struck with paralysis. What went through his mind at that moment was nothing less than total panic. His first fantasy: that Karen's parents, searching for her for weeks, months even, had finally found her. When they saw what he was doing. to her, they were sure to call the cops. The second fantasy was that it was the police themselves. They must often break into these tenements, searching for drugs. This time, they would find something else---and the girl was just 15, far below the age of consent. Then, his thoughts turned to other ideas. It was some intruder coming through that door, he guessed, some Hell's Angel type looking to steal everything in sight. He'd read that no one kept his possessions long if he lived in New York's East Village.
The truth, it turned out, was something far less disturbing than anything he'd imagined in those few seconds when the lock was being opened. The visitors were not visitors at all, but Karen's roommates, Jack and Lisa.
Karen didn't betray the slightest fright or disturbance. In fact, when her roommates came in and Roger tried to lift himself off of her, she held him tight, her arms preventing him from moving away.
"Hi," she called out gaily, her breath still short, "you're just in time."
Now what, Roger wondered to himself, could that mean?
"Hey," Jack said, "we got company."
"Yeah." said Lisa, "we're a foursome."
Jack broke out into uproarious laughter. "I thought for a moment you said foreskin," he finally explained, through tears of laughter.
Roger managed to disengage himself from Karen, at least enough to examine her roommates. Jack was a typical hippie-type, long, scraggly hair, a beard that made him look like Jesus, and a collection of clothing most mothers would have burned. Lisa, on the other hand, was lovely. She was tall, with long, straight blonde hair. She wore sandals that strapped up her calves and a flowered sack-like dress that wiggled revealingly where her tits were, obviously unrestrained by a bra. Both of them had a kind of glazed look. Roger was sure they were on drugs.
"Well, well," Lisa said, gazing at Roger, "a biggie. I just love biggies." She was clearly referring to Roger Dutton's cock. "Can I have him after you, Karen?"
Karen looked up at Roger, who was smiling, in a kind of Seventh Heaven. "Sure," she said, "why not?"
"Hey," Jack said, smiling stupidly, "in that case, I want you, Karen."
Roger knew exactly what that meant: marijuana, grass, pot, weed. Well, he thought, there's a first time for everything. Besides, a few puffs would never make him an addict.
Jack rummaged around in a little wooden box for a moment and came up with two oddly rolled cigarettes.
"Man," he said, handing one to Roger, "you just gotta try this stuff. One toke and your mind's blown. It's genuine Panamanian red."
"Well, I don't know."
"Come on, Man, it's not horse or coke. It's just grass. Try it. You'll feel groovy."
And so the four of them lit up and started smoking ---and drifting, off to that wonderful dreamland where all sounds were symphonies, all food and drink ambrosia, all sex ecstasy.
Sometime in the next few hours, they all disrobed. Roger sat for what seemed an eternity gazing at Lisa's melon shaped tits, tickling them with his forefingers, squeezing them gently and finally sucking, first on one, then on the other. Lisa just lay back, her eyes closed, the pulse in her neck visible, pounding quickly as her excitement grew.
It was the same with Jack and Karen. Roger missed that tight, hot cunt of Karen's, but now it was filled by another's cock. Jack was on top of her, pounding against her again and again like the waves against the shore. But this was not a passive shore content with being worn away. It pounded back, gasping, moaning, twisting, churning.
At one point, Roger roused Lisa so that they could both watch Karen's face. As Jack pumped into her, ramming his long, thin, heavily veined cock into her innards, her expression took on a kind of glow. There was a hint of a smile around her lips at first, but that gave way to open-mouthed pleasure.
Beside him, the two teenagers were fucking away full speed now, both of them fighting for breath. Roger gazed at Karen's face, watching with awe as it was overtaken by lust and desire, transformed from innocence into animality.
Then he felt a hand on his own huge hard-on. It was Lisa. What she had been watching had obviously roused her. "Come on, man" she said, "fuck me. Stick it in me."
She took his hand and placed it over her love-mound. Roger could feel the heat and moisture through his fingers. Her cunt hairs, blonde like the hair on her head, were tangled with wetness, the wetness of lust and desire. Slowly, ever so slowly, Roger pulled his attention away from Karen and Jack, his eyes turning at last to Lisa. In his drugged state, she seemed the Goddess of Love, the Earth-Woman. He mounted her. Her legs spread apart in greeting.
She was warmer, even than Karen, and far more moist. In fact, her lubrication was so copious he seemed to be swimming within her, stroking through the liquid evidence of her lust. She groaned as he entered her, but his mind was fixed to the sensations that were flooding through his cock. Under the influence of the drug he had smoked, it felt as large and long as a salami. And he felt as though he were splitting the girl in two with each stroke.
Lisa's reaction to Roger's pumping only provoked him more. She went far beyond Karen's simple moaning and groaning. He hadn't been stroking into her for more than a minute or two before she was letting out little screams of delight. Her body matched his rhythm, but she did even more, her entire frame quivering every time he rammed into her.
Beside them, Jack and Karen were fucking up a storm. Jack was lifting himself high, then dropping his full weight down on the slender young girl, panting like a grizzly bear in heat. Karen should have been in pain from all that pounding, but from the expression on her face and from the noises she was making, it was clear that pain was very far from her thoughts.
At that instant, Lisa added a new wrinkle to what she and Roger were doing. She began squeezing---almost vibrating---the muscles of her cunt together. Roger had I already been close to coming. This was the last straw. Entirely beyond his ability to prevent it, his prick began to pulsate, then quiver and jerk.
Finally, he felt it happening---his spunk was shooting out of his cock, spurting out again and again. He was filling the young girl with it. And she was responding in kind, her body shuddering in a series of jerks and twitches. She screamed Out in unrestrained delight---several times.
Beside him, he heard Karen join the fun, her voice turning into a kind of lulling whimper. At the same moment, Jack groaned loudly. Everyone, it seemed, had reached total satisfaction.
Roger drifted off after that. They all did, evidently. But, an hour or two later, he woke up. He was alone on the mattress. Jack was sleeping in a corner, curled up like a fetus. But neither of the girls were in sight. Roger got dressed quietly. He was about to leave when he heard Karen giggling in the other room. He tiptoed over. And looked in.
The two girls were still naked, lying on the apartment's other mattress. They were vigorously sixty-nining. He watched for awhile, very appreciatively. Then, just as he decided to leave, Karen accidentally looked his way.
"Roger," she said, "are you leaving already?"
"I think so," he said.
Lisa twisted her head. around. "Bye now,' she said. "Remember us."
"How could I ever forget?" He said.
He was hoping for more conversation, perhaps an invitation to join the two girls, but he never got it. Instead, both of them turned back to one another. It wasn't long before he felt like an intruder in the room. Roger went for the door. In moments, he was back on the street. It was mid-day and the sun was shining brightly, enough to hurt his eyes. He was out in reality now, away from the dream. Had it ever happened? No matter, it was already a memory, firm and clear, and he could refer to it anytime he wanted.
CHAPTER FIVE
Well, it's been a great vacation in New York, Roger thought, as he hung up the phone. The call had been from his boss, Frederick Gessner, and Roger had been expecting it for several days now. Tomorrow morning he'd report to Gessner and find out just where Gessner wanted him to go next. Wherever it was, Roger knew, he'd mix business with pleasure. Roger smiled, with a gleam in his eye. It's all true, what they say about traveling salesmen, he sang to himself. Then he began to whistle.
Roger's wife came into the room. "What's that you're whistling, dear?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing. I've got to sec Gessner tomorrow. Then it will be back on the road for me. I'd better get a good night's sleep."
Roger dozed off fantasizing that when he went to Gessner's home the next day, only his lovely daughter, Abigail, would be there. In Roger's dream, Abby would open the door and wiggle her big boobs right in front of his face and say, "Roger, I managed to get Mom and Dad out of the house for a few hours. I've just been dying to be alone with you. Now let me see that long luscious prick of yours. I've dreamed of licking it for years."
But of course, when Roger really did ring Gessner's doorbell the next day, nothing like that happened. Oh, Abby did open the door all right, but she didn't make the slightest motion that could be interpreted as a come-on.
"Hello, Mr. Dutton."
"Hello, Abby. How's your summer been."
"Just fine, thanks. I'll be going back to school in a day or so."
"Well, have a good year."
"Thanks. Dad's in the office waiting for you."
Roger's glance lingered over the young girl's fantastic bust, which was accentuated by her slim waist. She was wearing the college kid's uniform this year---dungarees with a man's shirt tied up under her breasts, exposing her midriff. Her pants hugged her hips just a little below her belly button and Roger's eyes traveled down to the tight fly front. I'd like to get my hand in there, he thought.
"In the office," Abigail repeated.
"Oh." Roger jerked his head up and their eyes met.
"Dad's waiting, in the office." Abby gave him a smirk. "Hope your eyes don't fall out someday, Mr. Dutton," she said, turning away from him and walking toward the stairs, her little ass bouncing. Both cheeks were clearly outlined in her tight dungarees. The seam disappeared up the crack of her ass and he wondered how those pants felt pressed so tight against her cunt.
Roger held his briefcase over his crotch as he entered Gessner's office and sat down. A little business, he thought, and this hard-on will be gone.
"Hello, Roger," Gessner said as he entered. "Enjoy your vacation?"
"Yep. Just relaxed with the family. Getting a little restless though. I'm so used to being on the road."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Took me a while to get used to sitting here instead of traveling all the time. Like it fine, now though."
I hope they never make me a manager, Roger thought. I'd go crazy staying in one place all the time. But he said, "I'm sure it has its advantages."
Roger and Gessner worked up a few promotions and a few specials and then Gessner asked, "When will you be leaving?"
"I might as well start this morning," Roger said. "No sense in wasting time." And maybe I'll find some unsuspecting little hot dish bitching on the road, he thought.
"That's a good idea, Roger," Gessner said. "You'll make Erie tonight and get an early start in the morning."
Roger got up and started to leave Gessner's office.
"So long, Fred," Roger said. "I'll call you when I get back."
"Right. Oh, wait a minute, Roger. You know my daughter goes to school near Erie. I was planning on driving her back there myself, tomorrow. But really, I can't spare the time. Maybe, if she could get herself ready in an hour or so, you wouldn't mind waiting and dropping her off for me."
Except for the tingle in his cock, Roger could have sworn he was dreaming. "Sure, sure. Wouldn't mind company on the road." Roger tried to keep his voice casual. My God, he thought. How will I keep my eyes on the road with those tits sitting next to me?
"Abby," called Gessner, opening the door to his office. "Oh, Abby. Come in here, please."
Abby popped into the office, out of breath from running down the stairs. "Yes, Dad?"
The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted Abby's reddish-brown hair, and Frank tried to keep his expression neutral as he admired the girl.
"Abby," Gessner said, "Mr. Dutton here is driving to Erie this afternoon. If you could be ready to go with him in an hour or so, you'd save me a trip tomorrow."
Abby looked over at Roger, who turned to face the window. Please say yes, he thought. Please say yes.
"Well," Abby said slowly.
"I'd really appreciate it honey," her father said. "Look at this stack of papers on my desk. If I can get through them this week, then your mother and I can come up to visit you at school over the weekend."
Roger thought he heard Abby stifle a groan. "Oh, don't worry about the weekend," Abby said. "I'll be pretty busy setting up and registering. You and Mom go off somewhere alone over the weekend and I'll go with Mr. Dutton so you can get your work done."
"That---a---girl, Abby."
Roger couldn't believe his ears. Now if he could just get out of Gessner's office without getting a hard-on. "I've got to get my things packed," he said. "How long do you need, Abby?
"Come back in a couple of hours," Abby said. "Right after lunch."
When Roger arrived later to pick up Abby, he'd stashed a few dirty books and pictures in his suitcase, just in case this girl needed a few aids.
But her face didn't look so innocent. And at age 20, she'd just have to have as much experience as the younger girls he'd found this summer. Abby's eyes had an animal look to them, and the way she stuck out her tits, well, she knew what they were for, Roger thought. Besides that, with those pants rubbing up against her pussy, why, she must be turned on all the time. I bet I have my hot prick rammed up her before we're through New Jersey, he thought.
Roger loaded Abby's suitcases into the trunk and waited by the car while the girl said her farewells to her parents. "Don't worry, Fred," he called to her father. "I'll get her there safely."
When Abigail sat down in the car, Roger could see the outline of her sex against her tight dungarees. He couldn't believe she'd been brazen enough to wear the same sexy outfit she'd had on this morning. She sat up so straight that her tits pressed tightly against the white shirt she wore and the buttons pulled a little. One more breath and they'll snap off, Roger hoped. This girl was wearing a bra, all right, and Roger was glad of it. I want some really good titty, he thought. And this chick has it.
Roger could barely keep his eyes off her boobs. Just wait, he told himself. Not too soon now. And keep that cock down until the appropriate moment.
But Abby had noticed where Roger's eyes were falling every other minute. "Just keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Dutton," Abby said. "I want to arrive all in one piece."
And what a piece you are, Roger thought. "You don't have to call me Mr. Dutton you know," he said. "My name is Roger."
"Okay, Roger. But you wouldn't want to lose your job, would you?"
This girl was no innocent, apparently. But she didn't seem to be. interested in him. Well, bub. Slow down, Roger told himself.
"Got a boyfriend?" Roger asked casually.
"Nope," Abby said.
"Well, I'm sure you'll find someone soon. With your looks, you can pick and choose."
Abby laughed.
"Sorry if I offended you, Abby." Roger said. "But you are beautiful. I have no hidden ideas or schemes. Just admiration. Someday you'll make some man very happy."
"Thanks, Roger."
So, she didn't seem to mind the compliments so much after all. Good. There was still hope.
"Do you live in the dorm, Abby?"
"`No. I have an apartment with some friends."
"Oh. I was wondering how it was to live in a dorm with the new co-ed rules they've got now."
"You get used to it," Abby said. "I lived in the dorm my first year."
"Probably a lot of hanky-panky going on, I'd imagine," Roger said.
"Probably not as much as you'd imagine," Abby z replied.
"Well," Roger said, "I guess I'm thinking of how it would have been if they'd had rules like that when I was a young man. We were all pretty deprived then."
"And depraved, too?"
"Yes, that too."
"Well, I guess things are different now."
"Tell me, Abby," Roger said, "how come you moved out of the dorm, with all those relaxed rules?"
"Oh, rules schmules. I never pay much attention to rules, one way or the other. I like having a place of my own. For one thing, food in the dorm stinks. And for another, in my apartment I don't have to share a bedroom with anyone else. We each have our own."
"Oh, how many of you are there?"
"Three."
"All girls?" Roger inquired.
"Uh, huh."
Abby leaned over and switched on the radio. "Let's have a little music," she said. "Do you mind?"
"Whatever you'd like."
She found an acid-rock station, leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Roger could see her shoulders and hips moving in time to the music. Her breasts jiggled a little and he could see her belly rippling as Abby lost herself in the music.
Roger's cock grew hard in spite of himself, but he didn't worry about it too much because Abby was in a. trance anyway. From time to time Roger took his eyes off the road and glanced over at the girl next to him. She was practically undulating now, and he was sure that the music was getting her turned on, not to mention the seam of her dungarees pressed so tight into her crotch that he could make out her cunt crack.
I've got to get my hands on her before this day is over, Roger thought. I've just got to stick my fingers down those dungarees and into that cunt, that sopping, dripping hot wet cunt that right this very moment is getting those dungarees so wet they'll drown.
I've got to get that shirt off that back and get a look at those huge, glorious tits. That girl's a 40 if she's anything at all. He imagined her nipples, big and red, under her shirt and his mouth sucking and pulling on them, making them unbelievably big.
Then Roger looked up at her face. Her mouth was slightly open. Abby's teeth were incredibly white, and her lips pink and full. I want to put my dick into that mouth, he thought. It was a wide mouth and it could take him all in without much trouble. I want to feel her lips sucking and her tongue licking. Then I want her to mash her boobs around my cock and I want her to play with her own tits while I rub my cock in between them and I want to shoot off right between those tits. My God, will that feel good.
Suddenly Roger felt his cock twitch over and over again, and he realized that he too was moving in time to the music. He turned the volume up a little. He'd never listened to this kind of music with any interest before, but now he did. He knew why the young crowd today turned on so easily, because the music was doing it to him too, and then he knew that he had to fuck Abby to the blaring sound of the Rolling Stones, whose name the disc jockey on the air had just announced.
Abby opened her eyes when the announcer began reading commercials. "Not much good scenery on this trip," she said.
"No," Roger replied, silently telling his cock to rest easy. "That was some record," he said. "I've never heard that before."
"Yeah. The Stones are a wild group."
"Their music. Is it all like that?"
"Like what?"
"Well, you know. Frantic and rhythmic and well, sexy, sort of."
"Uh huh."
"It's kind of hard to sit still when you're listening to music like that, isn't it?" Roger asked.
"Kind of."
"Makes even an old man like me want to dance."
"You're not so old are you?" Abby asked.
"Thirty-seven."
"Well, that's a lot younger than my father."
"Yes."
"Do you dance?"
"I'm not an expert. But with music like that, it'd be sort of natural---like."
"Yes, I guess it is."
"I can think of a few other things I'd like to do to that kind of music," Roger said. "I wonder if the kids play records like that when they're in bed."
Abby laughed.
"Look, Abby," Roger said, "I don't mean to be too personal, but most kids your age aren't virgins, are they? If what I read is true... "
"I guess not," Abby said.
"So don't you and your roommates, well, play around with the fellas a little... since you all have your separate bedrooms."
Abby laughed again.
"I'm not making a pass," Roger said. "Really, I'm just s curious about how the kids on campus are really behaving these days."
"Sounds like a pass to me," Abby said.
"Well," Roger said, "I mean, I wouldn't ever refuse the opportunity... a lovely young woman like you. A man can dream, can't he? But I'm also wondering about the lucky guys who you don't pass up. Is it that I'm too old, or not good looking enough, or what?"
"Oh, none of those," said Abby.
"Well," Roger's heart jumped, "I'm glad to see you're not shocked. I could tell from the way you listened to that record that you were capable of getting and giving a lot of sensual pleasure."
"Well, Roger," Abby said. "I'm flattered, to be sure. But you're just not my type."
"What is your type, Abby?"
"I don't care for men too much."
"Does that mean what I think it means?"
"It means, Roger, for you to forget it. If I liked men, you'd do just line, but I really prefer girls."
"Oh."
"Are you shocked."
"Not really. Just disappointed." How I wanted those tits, he thought. How I wanted to sink my fingers into her pussy. How I wanted her sexy lips around my cock. "I don't suppose I could change your mind for you, could I?"
"Afraid not, Roger."
"Ever fucked a man, Abby?"
"Once or twice. Didn't dig it."
"What do you like most about women, Abby?"
"You really want to know?"
"You bet."
"Why don't you tell me what you like, first?"
"Sure I will. I love big tits, just like yours, Abby. And I like to put my hands in their pussies and wiggle their clits with my fingers, and I like to suck their tits." And I also like to shove my huge cock into their cunts and into their mouths, but I'm not going to tell that to her, Roger thought.
"Well," Abby said, "I like the same things. Plus a few others you haven't mentioned."
"Like frenching another girl."
"Well, yes."
"You like having it done to you?"
"Sure. You think I'm nuts?"
"I never wanted to be a girl before, Abby, but I wish I was now. Just for today."
"But you're not. Anyway, all this talk has me so turned on that I almost wish you were a girl."
How can I convince her to fuck me, Roger wondered. They drove along in silence for a while, and then Roger got an idea. "Hey, Abby," he said. "I'm pretty good at picking up girls. How are you at it?"
"I did it once," she said.
"Well, maybe you and I could End a girl who digs men and women."
"Hmmn. Wishful thinking."
"Not necessarily. There's a little cafe a few miles up the road. If we don't see a nice girl hitch-hiking before we get there, let's stop. and see if anyone inside looks good to us. Lots of girls who go to college have their own cars and must be driving back to school now."
"You're a genius, Roger. But remember, you don't touch me."
"I hope she's got big tits." Roger's hard-on was coming back. Roger pulled up in front of the restaurant. People coming and going in and out all stared at Abby. Roger noticed her eyes looking over the females and ignoring the males.
The restaurant was a self-service place, and it was jammed. Abby and Roger stood in a corner with their trays and surveyed the scene. They noticed a table with two attractive girls sitting together. One of the girls was a lovely blonde, with boobs even bigger than Abby's. She was wearing a scooped-neck tank shirt, and the rosy tops of her ample tits spilled over the neckline. She had on cut-off dungarees, and Abby and Roger craned their necks to notice the slim tan legs. The other girl had black hair, short and curly. Her breasts were smaller, but not too small. She was wearing a halter top, and her tits were visible from the side.
"They don't cover up much these days, do they," Roger commented.
"How do you like those girls?" Abby asked.
"I dig them both, especially the one with the big boobs."
"Me too."
"Well, a single girl would be better, but since there aren't any... "
"Let's go over there," Abby said. "Those girls aren't talking to each other. Maybe they don't even know each other."
Abby and Roger made their way to the table with the two girls. "Mind if we join you?" Abby said.
"No," said the blonde busty one.
"I was just leaving," said the dark-haired girl, slurping the last drops of her iced tea.
The blonde munched slowly on her sandwich and gave Abby a good looking over. "Gee," she said, "you look familiar. Go to U.P. College?"
"Yes," Abby said. "You too?"
"Yes," said the girl. "I guess that's where I've seen you. What's your name?"
"Abby Gessner. Yours?"
"Rita Swanson. Abby... Abby. Sounds familiar. Oh, well, it'll come to me. You going back to school now?"
"Right," Abby said. She pointed to Roger. "He's driving me."
"Were you hitching?" Rita wanted to know.
"No. He works for my Dad."
"If you need a ride, Rita... " Roger broke in.
"Don't mind if I do. I've hitched this far and my ride dropped me here. He was about to turn on the pike."
"Isn't it a little dangerous, Rita?" Roger asked. "A pretty girl like you alone, hitching."
"Depends on what you mean by dangerous. I got picked up by a family with kids. Figured that couldn't be dangerous. Dangerous, hell, it wasn't even interesting."
"You mean," Roger asked, "if a guy who appealed to you picked you up you'd play around?"
"Why not? If he appealed to me."
Abby and Roger finished their sandwiches and coffee.
"Now," Rita said. "I've got my luggage in a locker in the entrance area."
Roger shoved Rita's luggage into the back seat. Abby held the passenger side door open and Rita slid in next to Roger. Then Abby sat down next to Rita.
"You're beginning to look familiar to me, too," Abby said.
Roger drove quietly while Rita and Abby discussed majors, classes, teachers, apartments, dorms, and other such nonsense, and Roger wondered how to get them back to the topic of sex. Rita's tits were pushed out over her neckline and Roger was dying to take a squeeze. He looked down at her lithe tan legs and he thought to himself, I've never seen such a slender girl with such big tits. Rita's hot pants were barely long enough to cover her crotch, and they were tight, like Abby's dungarees, outlining her pussy very clearly.
He stared at her every so often, and noticed that Abby's eyes were on Rita's tits. Rita looked over at Roger and smiled when she noticed him looking at her, and she . wiggled a little in her seat.
"How about some music," Roger said, snapping on the radio. The blare began, and this time he watched the girls being overcome by the music.
"I've got some nice grass," Rita said. "Want a joint?"
"Right here on the road?" Roger said.
"Why not?" said Abby?
"I've got it. I've got it," Rita said, excitedly. "Aren't you a friend of Joyce Morris?"
"So that's where I've seen you," Abby said meaningfully.
"Um," Rita said. "Maybe we'll get together at school."
"I've got an idea. Roger doesn't Want to smoke while he's driving. Right, Rog?"
"I'm not too experienced with grass. I'd rather not be driving."
"Why don't we stop at the next motel and stay the night?"
"That's fine with me, girls," Roger said, feasting his eyes on Rita's boobs.
Roger pulled off the road with his cock twitching in anticipation. The two girls went into the motel office to register, came back to the car, and the three of them went into the room. Roger pulled out a bottle from his luggage and fixed drinks for all and Rita passed a joint around.
"Boy, Rita, you look fantastic in that top," Abby said.
"Why don't you try it on? If it fits I'll give it to you. I have another."
"Okay," Abby said. "Come on into the bathroom with me. I don't think I can get it zipped myself."
The two girls disappeared into the bathroom. Roger paced the floor, imagining how Abby would look in Rita's top. His cock was getting harder and harder and he played with it a little.
Then he couldn't wait any longer. "Hey, come on out," he yelled into the bathroom. There was no answer. Finally Roger opened the door. There were Abby and Rita, bare from the waist up.
Their hands were on each other's huge boobs. Rita's were a little larger than Abby's, but actually, both sets were unbelievable. Abby's nipples were deliciously large and dark red, like a large apple, and Rita's were pink, like strawberry ice cream.
Roger walked over to Rita and caressed her luscious tits. "Hope you don't mind sharing her, Abby."
"She better not mind," Rita said. "I thought you'd never come in. Then I would have had to come out and get you, because I like cocks as much as I like tits and cunts."
Then Rita unzipped Roger's pants and pulled out his gigantic erect prick and played with it with both hands, making it incredibly hard and long.
Roger kept staring at Abby's breasts and thanked his lucky stars that Rita was there, for he knew he'd never get to feel Abby.
They all walked over to the bed and lay down, with Rita in the middle. Rita didn't let go of Roger's cock for an instant, and within seconds of pulling Roger down on the bed she had his cock in her mouth and was waggling her tongue all around and over it, making delicious-sounding slurping noises and pulling up on him with her lips smacking.
"Umm, you sure taste good," she said, tickling his balls with both hands. "And you feel good too." She squeezed and squeezed with her cheeks around his prick until he thought he would come, but he managed to contain himself. He wanted to prolong this ecstasy as long as he could.
Abby was busy fiddling with Rita's shorts and finally managed to pull them off. Rita was just as lean and sexy on the bottom as Roger had thought she'd be. Abby spread Rita's ass open and dove in with her finger. Rita squirmed and wiggled and Roger's cock felt her every move.
Finally Rita took her mouth from Roger's dick and said, "Just a minute, lover. You'll have to wait a little bit. Just watch and enjoy."
Then Rita turned on her back and spread her legs apart and Roger and Abby feasted their eyes on her blonde pussy. Roger played with Rita's clit and Abby kissed and sucked on her tits, and Rita writhed with pleasure on the bed and played with Abby's tits and unfastened her dungarees. Then she pushed Roger away from her and pulled down Abby's pants. to reveal reddish pussy hair.
"Oh, so you don't wear panties either," Rita squealed.
"Feels better not to," Abby said, diving her head down between Rita's thighs.
Rita turned so that she could eat Abby at the same time, and Roger craned his neck, trying to get the best view. His cock was swollen purple now and he was afraid if he touched it he'd shoot his wad in an instant.
Both girls were slurping and moaning like crazy. Roger stared at Abby's tits heaving up and down. He longed to squeeze them, but reached for Rita's instead. Abby was twiddling her own boobs, and soon her moans changed to pants. He knew she would come soon and Rita worked her tongue around faster and faster. Roger peered down between Abby's legs and saw Rita's tongue inching its way right up into her pussy. Abby's ass was bouncing up and down, up and down and Rita slid her finger in and out of Abby's asshole as easily as she stuck her tongue in and out of her cunt.
Seconds later Abby began to shriek so loud Roger feared the people in the next room would hear. Her screams were followed immediately by a guttural moan from Rita, who clasped her legs around Abby's neck while Abby pulled and sucked on Rita's clit, which was long enough for Roger to see clearly. When Rita pushed Abby's head away, Roger could see about an inch of clit hanging limply, shriveled after a glorious cum.
The girls looked at Roger and Rita grabbed his cock and began pumping. Roger reached for Rita's twat and felt her clit harden again.
He rubbed his fingers back and forth quickly over it and Rita said, "That's it lover. That's just the way I like it.
Then Rita rolled over and pushed Roger on his back. She got on top of him and held his prick hard in her list. She sat down right on top of his cock and pushed it into her wet hot cunt and pushed her body up and down up and down, up so high his cock almost completely left her sopping pussy and then down so low he could feel the end of her cunt with the tip of his prick.
Then she lay down the top half of her body, and her huge tits mashed against his neck. She lifted up and jiggled those glorious boobs with the gigantic strawberry-colored nipples against his face and he stuck out his tongue, getting in his licks with each fall of Rita's chest. If this wasn't heaven, he didn't know what was. He looked over at Abby who was pushing her own fingers around in her wet twat and was breathing hard.
Rita began squeezing her cunt walls together, and then she reached around behind her and gently brushed her hands against the hair on Roger's balls, and with that hand on his balls and that cunt on his cock and those tits in his face Roger couldn't stand it any longer.
With one final squeeze of her pussy, Rita made Roger . cum and he moaned and panted wildly as Rita pressed her clit close to his stomach and began her shrieking. He felt her cunt open and, close and her clit quiver against him.
Then she collapsed on top of him, and Roger for a few minutes thought he might never be in shape to fuck anyone ever again.
CHAPTER SIX
What does a salesman do on a very hot day? He calls on his customers. But he doesn't have to like it.
That's what Roger Dutton did when he finally arrived at his destination, Erie, Penn. Erie is a dreary town. It not only has slums, its slums have suburbs. But even dreary towns need hardware.
Roger drove down the main drag of the town, looking for the Hardware Emporium, the city's largest hardware store. He'd sold them plenty in years past, but ownership had changed hands recently and the new owners wouldn't give him a tumble. But salesman are born to try and try again and Roger was no exception.
He found a parking space about a block from the store, opened his car's trunk, grabbed his heavy sample bag and headed down the street. The case was heavy. The weather was hot. The humidity was high. By the time he got to the Hardware Emporium, his shirt was wilted, his tie wrinkled and his suit dripping with sweat.
Nonetheless, he summoned up all his salesmanship, gave the new owners a terrific pitch and a good deal and ended up selling more hardware in one order than he'd ever sold in his life. He walked out of the Hardware Emporium floating on air, sure he could conquer the world whenever he wanted to.
This was the kind of deal that most salesman would say entitled them to a day of rest, maybe two or three. Roger Dutton was no exception. And the day was right for it. All that heat and humidity. What Roger wanted now was to take a swim someplace, to cool off and forget about work.
He thought about it a moment. Howard Johnson's, where he was staying, had a pool. But he didn't have a suit. That was easily remedied. He pulled in front of a small discount store, found a pair of trunks for about $5, and headed out toward the motel.
On the way, he saw a sign: Cedar Park beach, 5 miles, next right.
Now why, you may ask, hadn't he thought of it earlier---a beach, a picnic ground for young bathers, many of them, most likely, young, pretty and female. It was a question Roger asked himself, too. Such an obvious idea for a dirty old man and he hadn't thought of it.
Perhaps it was that the opportunities for doing something about the inevitable excitement of seeing those firm young, nubile young bodies clad in nothing more than a couple of well-placed ribbons were small indeed. All the average dirty old man could do, in such cases, was look. Now, for some, looking is its own reward. Roger usually wanted more than that. He was a freak about touching, feeling and fucking. Restraining himself when young lovelies appeared was a might difficult job for him.
Today, however, he decided to relax, to take it easy, to give his eyes a treat without asking for more. It was a reasonable enough thought. After all, he'd had some perfectly splendid adventures in the last few weeks. He wasn't pooped out. Dirty old men are never pooped out. If a cunt comes along, they have a cock that's ready. Still, it was good to recharge the batteries once in a while.
Roger steered off the main road and onto the highway that led to the beach. Summer vacation was drawing to a close for the school kids, he reasoned. That meant that as many as possible would be there at the beach, trying to perfect their suntans before they were once more imprisoned within the walls of that local institution of learning the law said they must visit occasionally.
It should be a good time for dirty old men out there on the sand. As he drove, Roger envisioned healthy, tanned young bodies dancing down the beach and through the water, their firm, slender legs flashing in the sun, their boobs bouncing invitingly, their navels uncovered for all to see, their swim suit bottoms so tight that their woman-mounds were very prominent.
Roger wondered for a moment, as he drove through farmland toward the beach, if these girls knew what sort of reaction they provoked in the men who saw them. He wondered if they had fantasies too, of stepping out of the locker room directly into some guy's line of vision and causing an instant erection. He wondered if they looked at male crotches and wondered what they'd find underneath the suit, if they speculated about how it would be to be fucked by one of the guys on the beach and then another.
Certainly the experienced girls thought that way. He'd heard enough about that to know, just in the last couple of months. From what he'd gathered, the girls thought about sex every bit as much as the boys. They got horny, too. When they saw a boy in a swimsuit, his cock clearly visible, making a bulge in just the right place, did their cunts start getting wet? Did they experience little quivers in their clits, just as he felt twitches in his cock when he gazed at some sexy little girl?
My god, he reflected, they're sexy earlier and earlier these days. They seem to get tits earlier. The hair grows on their cunts earlier. They're aware of their bodies and of sex earlier. When he was a teenager, the girls wore skirts down to their ankles, where they were met by heavy bobbie-sox. The girls wore shapeless sweaters and giggled about holding hands in the movies. Sure, there were stories about girls who fucked in high school. But they were nothing more than stories, so far as he'd been able to tell. There was another sign directing him toward the beach and Roger made the proper turn.
Hell, he thought, the most those girls would let you do in my day was feeling 'em up a bit through their clothes, maybe lie on top of them---all clothing on, and dry hump. He remembered one pretty young girl, Phyllis, her name was. She let him do just that---lie on her and dry hump. At least, that's what she did until the action got too fast and furious. Then she'd push him off and say he'd better take her home.
Once she got carried away and she. let him actually reach a climax. He could still remember how it felt, inside his pants, that sticky white cum spreading out all over his underwear, staining his pants probably. He'd gotten up from her that time and she'd felt her dress.
"I'm wet," she said in horror. "You've wet me."
"Impossible," he'd said. "I didn't even unzip my zipper."
"But I am wet. Feel for yourself."
He felt.
"Not there," she'd said angrily, "here."
Sure enough, there had been a damp spot. Evidently, it had soaked through his pants.
"Well," he said, "that's nothing to worry about. It will come out in the wash."
"What if my parents see it? Roger, that's the last time we're going to do anything like that."
And so it was.
Yessir, he thought, the girls were different in those days. They were saving themselves. I don't know for what, but that's what they said. In those days, he reflected, virginity was the be-all and end-all of everything. If a girl wasn't a virgin when she got married---well, that was it for the marriage. At least, that was what everyone said.
Besides that, the girls he knew an his high school days just didn't know anything about sex. He remembered, for example, a pretty little brunette---Peggy Wilcox, or something like that. He was dating her friend, Jeannie Weiss. One day, he noticed that Peggy was moping around, looking depressed and down.
"What's the matter with Peggy?" he'd asked Jeannie.
"Oh, she's depressed."
"I can see that," he'd said. "But why?"
"Well," Jeannie said, her voice low and confidential, "she thinks she's pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Roger had said. "But who---"
"No one, that's who," Jeannie had interrupted. "She thinks you can get pregnant by kissing. Her period is a little late and she's scared to death."
"Really? She thinks that kissing can make you pregnant?"
"I know it sounds silly, but that's what she thinks."
"I can't believe it. She simply isn't that naive."
"She's my friend and I can tell you she is."
Roger had swallowed it all. Jeannie was always straight with him. She wouldn't lie, especially not about a thing like this. Now, he was sure he was the naive one, not Peggy or Jeannie. The girl had been fucking around, it was that simple. And she really was scared that she was knocked up. She had good reason to be, no doubt. There was another sign. He was only two miles from the beach now.
Come to think of it, Roger said to himself, that wasn't the only time I was fooled by a girl. There was also Ruthie. Ruthie was a girl he'd dated in college. She seemed remarkably sweet and innocent, the kind of girl who'd never do anything wrong or sexy with anyone. Hell, she hardly ever even kissed him goodnight. It took some kind of special occasion, like a birthday. He was sure she'd be a virgin when she got married, and that she'd probably pass out with the shock of sexual content. Then he had a conversation with one of his fraternity brothers, a guy named Norman, a raunchy type if ever there was one. Norman came up to him one day with that leer in his eye that such guys often have.
"I see you're dating Ruthie," he said.
"That's right. You know her?"
"Oh yeah," Norman had said, the leer intensifying. "I've known her for a long time, if you know what I mean."
Roger had been shocked and annoyed. "No, as a matter of fact, I don't know what you mean."
"Well," he said, "she's a hot little chick."
"Hot?"
"Sure. I never got a better blow job than the one she gave me one night in a drive in movie."
"She gave you a blow job?"
"Sure. Couple of my friends, too, Same night."
"You sure we're talking about the same girl?"
"Absolutely. Ruthie Slovak, right?"
"That's her name. But she isn't the kind of girl you say she is. She couldn't be."
The leer broadened. "You mean you aren't getting anything from her?"
"Of course not. I mean we really have a very nice relationship. But it's strictly proper. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly."
"And I don't want you spreading any stories about her, especially the sort of filth you've just told me."
I Roger had walked away still convinced that Ruthie had never done a dirty thing in her life. But the seed had been planted. One day, finally curious beyond his control, he'd come out and mentioned Norman's name to her.
"You ever date a fellow named Norman Cashman?"
Ruthie had looked at him in panic for just an instant.
"I think so," she finally said, "years ago."
"I talked with him about you."
"What did he say?"
"He said the two of you were very close."
There'd been a smile on Ruthie's lips that `couldn't have been misinterpreted. By the end of the night, Roger was getting the best blow job of his life, which he should have had at least six months earlier, same girl.
Sure, he thought, I was naive in those days. But times have changed and so have the young girls. I'm really making up for lost time now.
Up ahead of him, he could see the beach-the bright umbrellas, the blue waters of Lake Erie, the pale green locker houses. To his joy, the beach looked crowded. With exactly the same sort of crowd he would have chosen, if he had had the choice.
He found a parking place, jammed his bathing suit under his arm and headed for the locker building. All around him, it seemed, young fillies were parading around nearly naked, sipping Cokes through straws and talking about boy friends, munching on hot dogs and exchanging information about school, their asses and tits practically popping out of their flimsy little suits.
There was a blonde one over there, hair shining in the sun, shape like an hour-glass, tits like dunce caps, dressed in a swim suit that, if there'd been any sort of breeze at all, would have been blown away in a single puff. There, over there, was a short brunette, her scanty top stretched around two glorious globular boobs, her ass cheeks separated by the fabric of her suit bottom. They jiggled a bit as she walked and Roger found himself licking his lips.
Was there anything else in the world worth looking at, he wondered. Was there anything so satisfying to the eyes or stimulating to the cock as a young girl? For the life of him, he couldn't understand how these kids could walk around the beaches without being raped repeatedly.
That was his impulse, and a barely restrained one at that. He wanted to grab the nearest girl, rip off her swim suit and ram his rod into her furry little cunt hole. He expected her to protest at first, but he knew how women reacted to fucking. After the initial resistance, they melted in a puddle of cunt juice and lust. Virgin, nympho, schoolgirl or dropout, they all behaved the same way.
He headed toward the bathhouse, rented a box, went into a changing booth, slipped into his suit, piled his clothing as neatly as possible in the box, locked it up, and strolled out onto the sand, completely unselfconscious about his milky whiteness, his thoughts instead riveted to the girls around him.
It was as if he were in a department store of young girls, tall ones, short ones, thin ones, plump ones and a wide selection of just right ones. Would that they were for sale.
Roger walked over to the. concession booth, rented a towel and a small beach umbrella and padded down toward the water, looking for a likely place to plant himself. For all the wandering young girls, the beach wasn't actually crowded. He got a spot near the water, not far from six giggling teenagers-all female---clustered around a portable radio blaring out rock music.
Fortunately, Roger Dutton had on a pair of dark sunglasses. It was quite simple for him to lie down on his towel, spread out in the sun, and pretend to close his eyes, while actually gazing at the girls nearby.
What kind of a beach was this, anyhow? There were at least four girls to every boy, not counting families, that is. There were, it is true, many families, many mothers with noisy children. But, as those children began to approach puberty---so long as they were female children---they, too attracted Roger's attention.
For a long time, he lay there, eyes apparently closed, staring at the girls nearby. Of the six, three were quite acceptable. And two of these were really fine-looking; an auburn-haired girl with fair and freckled skin who, Roger estimated, must have been about 15, even though her body was more like that of a 25-year-old woman; and a bleached blonde---16, perhaps---her body still in the midst of puberty, but with great promise.
What fun it would be, Roger mused, to be invisible for an hour or two, to run among the girls, touching those fabulous tits, caressing those swelling woman mounds, rubbing his cock along the fine golden hairs of the darkly tanned skin of their bellies until he shot his load off.
It was a delicious fantasy and not a particularly new one for this particular dirty old man. How would the girls react, he wondered, at the touch of an invisible hand on their privates? Would they jump in terror or sit motionless, secretly enjoying the sensations? He let his mind roam toward the auburn-haired girl in the group nearby. . In his mind's eye, he touched her pussy with his forefinger, running it up and down her slit. In his mind's eye, she gasped, stared down at her crotch unbelievingly and sat quietly, too embarrassed in front of her friends to say anything or move.
In his mind's eye, Roger put his other hand on her tits. He slipped a finger underneath the cup of her top, sliding it over her remarkably cool and smooth tit flesh until he finally touched her nipple. It was a funny, wrinkled nubbin until he started rubbing it. Then it grew, it expanded---as though it were being inflated somehow. And the girl now had to struggle to betray nothing to her girlfriends. Every once in a while, she'd take a sharp intake of breath, which she promptly smothered and disguised.
In his mind's eye now, Roger could not be seen. He could come as close as he liked to whatever female he fancied, examine her at length, then complete the examination with his hands, his fingers and his tongue. He looked around at the other girls on the beach. This time, he selected the bleached blonde. In his mind's eye, he walked over to her, totally invisible, and stood looking at her, from a distance of about three inches.
How wonderful her skin was, smooth and flawless. How inviting were those swelling tits of hers, at least two-thirds of the way out of her swim suit top. He decided to help her all the way out. Invisibly, he grabbed the middle of her top and jerked it down abruptly. Her melon-shaped tits popped free, milky white in contrast with the rest of her body, except for cherry-colored nipples that adorned them.
She screamed, of course, if only in his mind's eye. She tried desperately to pull her swim suit top back into place. Failing that, she cupped her tits with both hands, hiding them from view. Her girl friends stared at her bewildered. First, from their point of view, she'd bared her breasts. Now, she was squeezing them. Had she flipped out? In his mind's eye, Roger prepared a complication. Then, he imagined his invisible self carrying it out. He jammed a hand beneath her suit bottom, directly into her mass of soft cunt hair.
The girl reacted immediately by taking a hand from one tit and sticking it into her bottom to find out what was happening. Roger grabbed the hand---he had expected it---and pushed it down against her cunt. To every eye, now, it would appear as if the girl had suddenly been overwhelmed by her own lustful fantasies and was now jerking off in front of everyone, her sense of shame pathologically absent.
As he imagined all of this, his real life cock began to swell with desire. He felt his breath grow short. He turned over on his stomach, his cock digging into the towel below him. As unobtrusively as possible, he began to wiggle his ass. His cock grew with the stimulation, until it was as large and erect as it could get. By now, Roger was sweating profusely and it wasn't just the summer heat that was responsible.
He glanced over at the girls now, his mind working away like wildfire. Once more, he imagined the blonde girl apparently playing with herself. It was easy to maintain the illusion; Once she'd dipped a hand down in defense of her pussy, Roger, in his mind's eye, used his free hand to squeeze her unprotected boob. She wrenched her hand out of her bottom and reached for her tit. Once again, Roger imprisoned that hand, pressing it tightly against the girl's tit, his fingers pressing hers into her own flesh. She seemed to be squeezing her tits in a at of passion. In Roger's mind's eye, her girlfriends stared at her, astonished. Then in his imagination, Roger jammed a finger into her cunt hole, driving it deep into the young girl. She sighed and her hips jerked, in spite of herself.
"You okay?" one of her girl friends asked, eyes agog.
"Yes," the girl said, "no, I don't know. Something is happening to me, I don't understand it." She twisted and turned, trying to fight off Roger's imaginary and invisible hands. It was an impossible struggle, complicated by the fact that her body was not acting in her own best interests. After a while, her passions were boiling. She was losing the battle, which wasn't surprising, since her adversary had her own body as an ally.
Roger gazed at the girls, his own excitement now almost overpowering him. His cock, hard as a rock, was digging into the sand so fiercely it brought him pain. The sweat was rolling oil his body and his breath was coming in short gasps.
To his great disappointment, the girls next to him chose this exact instant to rise, brush themselves off and head for the water. In a few moments, they'd be cavorting in the waves, well beyond his field of view. And there he was, so excited he was nearly ready to come. It was a shame.
Then Roger decided to join them. He needed a cooling off. He needed to get closer to the girls. But there was the problem of his erection. How in the world could he get up from his towel, stand tall and walk the 15 or so paces to the water's edge without displaying that enormous hard-on for all to see? He thought about the problem for a few moments, then stood, .. protected from view by his beach umbrella. He folded it up and took it toward the water's edge, protecting his erection from view.
Once at the Water, he stuck it once more into the sand, tied his towel around it, and headed for the cool lake in front of him. Despite the summer heat, the water was cool---cold, almost---but Roger didn't hesitate to enter the water. He knew it would take a lot more than that to cool him off.
In a few moments, he was waist deep in the water. Then, chest deep. It was, fortunately, a calm day, with no waves. Roger headed toward the girls who'd been sitting near him.
Meanwhile, another group of girls was approaching him from the rear. They were playing catch with one of those gaily colored plastic beach balls.
"Hey Sandy," one of them shouted, "wanna play catch?"
Roger turned, just in time to see the beach ball sail over his head---and just in time to catch a flash of the girl who had thrown it, a buxom brunette in a flowered print bikini that in any other age but this would have been strictly illegal. It was enough to heat Roger to the boiling point once more.
Chest deep in the water, as he was, it was a simple, natural thing for Roger to reach down, slip a hand under his trunks and fondle his cock. Which was still hard as a bone and exquisitely sensitive to the touch.
He looked at the girls he was surrounded with and played with himself freely. There was no way they could see what he was doing. It would be a snap to jerk off and to fill the lake water with millions of little sperm. Who knows, maybe one would sneak into one of the girls' cunts.
As he played with himself, he watched the girls playing with the beach-ball. They were yelling and giggling and throwing their voluptuous bodies around in a manner you'd think was calculated to excite. And Roger was completely taken in by them.
After a while, they were playing keep away. Suddenly, the ball splashed down right beside Roger.
"Hey, Mr.," one of the girls yelled, "throw the ball here."
"No," shouted another girl, "throw it here."
"No, here."
In a few moments, half a dozen girls were shouting at Roger, asking that he throw the ball their way. He picked it up, dropping his cock for a moment, and looked around, trying to decide which girl was the prettiest. He would throw it her way.
Finally, he tossed the ball toward a tall redhead with very pointy tits. To his surprise, she threw it back. Then, he threw the ball to another girl. She also returned it. In no time at all, Roger was part of the game. The girls had counted him in. Perhaps it was because he was the only guy around. But Roger wasn't going to spend time trying to figure it all out.
It was really a terrible position for a man as excited as Roger was. What he really wanted to do was to jump one of the girls---any of them would do---and drag her down into the sand, shoving his cock into her hole with all of his strength. But here he was, playing catch instead. It was very frustrating.
And Roger Dutton wasn't the sort of man who dealt well with frustration. He wasn't one to delay gratification, not even for a moment, if he could manage it. So, while playing catch with one hand, he reached down to his crotch with the other---and started playing with himself. The girls, of course, hadn't the slightest idea that the fun and games he was imagining had nothing to do with beach balls.
After a while, the game itself got fast and furious. The ball was bouncing from girl to girl, from Roger to girl and back again. He was in the middle of the pack by now and the girls were huddled close around him.
By now, Roger's cock was enormous. He had his fist wrapped around it and was beating off furiously. First, he directed himself toward one girl, then toward another. In his own mind, at least, he was fucking first one, then the other, then still another.
The game, as it happened, was very athletic. Everyone of the girls was giving her all, jumping out of the water, falling down below the surface and leaping up. They knocked against him frequently, at first to his surprise, then to his pleasure.
They surrounded him now, gathering around him very closely, hardly giving him space to move. Inside the circle of giggling teenagers, Roger Dutton somehow managed to unzip the fly of his swimming trunks and whip out his dick.
Then, accidentally, or so it seemed, he rubbed first against one girl, then against another---all in the spirit of the game, in the spirit of fun. The beach ball bounced around with gay abandon and the girls fought over it. As they fought, they managed often to stimulate Roger's protruding cock. He felt the soft skin of one girl's thigh against it, then the round surface of another girl's ass, then the bare skin of still another girl's belly.
Roger was breathing hard now---but that seemed logical enough. He was exerting himself visibly, fighting for the ball, throwing it, racing others for it. But he was also exerting himself invisibly, in a way, his hand wrapped around his cock, his fingers beating out a tattoo on his gigantic erection.
One of the girls---the redhead---bounced against Roger and stuck there a moment, held by her own momentum. When she moved away, finally, she had a strange look in her eye. What had happened was that she'd rubbed her thigh against his cock. And, evidently, she wasn't so innocent that she didn't know just what it was that she was touching with her thigh.
Despite her strange expression on moving away from Roger, the game went on and she participated in it. Once more, the action carried the redhead against Roger's outsprung cock and this time the strange look was accompanied by a smile. The girl retreated a few feet and whispered in a girlfriend's ear. When the ball next came that way, it was the girlfriend who crashed against Roger, and she rubbed her thigh against his outstretched cock. What's more, she did it more than once, But then, the flow of the game carried her away from him, and toward the bleached blonde about whom Roger had been having those invisible man fantasies a few minutes ago.
Roger was caught directly. in between complete panic. and total excitement. As he watched and played the game, he saw the word about him being passed along among the girls. One would whisper to another and they'd both giggle. Then the girl most recently informed would turn to still another girl and tell her. What Roger was worried about is that one of them would be very shocked by it all and would bolt, perhaps informing the life guard, or, worse, the beach patrol. Then, his goose was cooked. But that isn't what happened. Instead, the girls came to him, one by one, very casually, almost accidentally, to rub against his magnificent erection. Their rubbing, and his hand, soon had him excitingly near climax.
The game went on, just as before, with even more giggling, though. And now the girls seemed to be taking turns coming up close to Roger, rubbing against him while going after the ball, then slipping back into the group. What Roger wanted to do most, of course, was to grab one of the girls---a pretty one, of course, hold her close, rub against her until he filled the lake waters with millions of swimming sperm. So, as the girls approached him, he managed to return the rubbing, touching them between the legs, brushing his hands against their tits. They must have known exactly what he was doing, but they made no indication whatever.
None, that is, until the redhead girl approached him. She rubbed her thigh against his cock, as all the other girls had done, then, to his surprise and delight, she wrapped her fingers around his organ and began to jerk him off. Just as he was ready to spend, the ball unfortunately bounced near the girl. She released his cock and grabbed the ball, to throw it on. Then, she moved away. Her place was quickly taken by another girl, a brunette, who grabbed his cock and started to jerk it off quite vigorously, a distinct leer on her young face.
Roger held himself back by sheer force of will. They were taking turns with him now and he wanted to wait for a particular girl---the blonde, who he'd played with when he was imagining himself invisible.
In a few minutes, it was her turn. By now, his cock was twitching and jerking like crazy. The blonde did something none of the other girls had done. She backed up to him, pushing her ass against his cock, almost capturing it in the crack between her ass cheeks. Then, she reached a hand around behind her and started squeezing and massaging his prick.
That did it for Roger Dutton. He could restrain himself no longer. He humped violently against the young girl, finally reaching around in front of her and pressing hard against her suit, where he thought her clit was. She responded by speeding up her massage against his organ. Suddenly, he shot off. Gob after gob of his semen floated out into the lake water. The girl shivered her ass against him, driving him to a series of quivering jerks. Then, as quickly as it began, the game was over. One of the girls threw the ball on the beach and the others ran after it.
Roger, still quivering with the last sensations of passion, could not follow immediately. And, by the time he'd zipped up and started out of the water, the beach ball---and all the girls-----was far, far away.
He trudged over to where he'd planted the umbrella, folded it up, flopped the towel over his shoulder and walked toward the bathhouse. It was, after all, rather late in the afternoon. The sun was starting to sink in the sky. Besides, he was well satisfied. And, finally, he was cooled off. The girls were out. of sight.
All in all, it had been a very, very good day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Roger Dutton left Erie satisfied. He'd made some good sales and some good scenes. He whistled as he drove along the highway, Westward, through the flat expanse of the Middle West.
He passed the bleak factories and flat yellow farmlands, bored by the scenery. He turned on the radio, found the local rock station, and the music went right to his balls. Wonder who it'll be next, he thought. And where? He reached Cleveland early in the afternoon and went to see the major hardware distributor in town. It was a dirty city, and Roger was glad he didn't have to peddle from store to store here. He racked in a nice order and was gone a few hours later.
As he crossed the Ohio-Indiana line, Roger realized he could be in his home town, Chicago, tonight, easy. Except for New York, Chicago was the only big city East of the Rockies he could stomach. New York had the most beautiful girls and Chicago was the city most like New York and had the advantage of his knowing it like the back of his hand.
Okay, Roger thought. I'll stop in Gary and see the distributor, and the hell with the small towns and the small---time stores. My blood is up for Chicago and the good old suburbs by the lake I used to know.
I'll head for the inner city tomorrow, thought Roger. But first I'm going to take a nostalgia trip. He headed north and drove around his old neighborhood for awhile. Roger noted the stores he'd visit before he left the suburbs again and then checked into a motel---new since he'd lived there.
At dinner, Roger had a few drinks and began to realize how tired he was after spending all day in his car. He thought briefly of picking up some tail, and when his prick didn't make much of a response to that idea, he decided to get a good night's sleep (something he hadn't had for awhile) and combine business with pleasure the next day.
After three successful visits to three different stores, Roger had lunch, made appointments with two large Chicago hardware distributors for the next day, and began a pleasure cruise around the small town.
The night's rest had done him good. He passed by the local teenage hang-out areas and felt his cock grow at the sight of the young flesh loitering around. He stared carefully at all the chests he saw, and noted with pleasure the female ones. The tits were the only way to tell the difference these days, he remarked to himself. Kids sure don't look like they used to.
Most of the attractive teenagers he saw were in couples. They were blatantly sexual, even on the street. Boys walked casually with their arms around a girl's shoulder, hands dangling on free-swinging boobs. Couples rubbed against each other suggestively. The boys wore tight pants and their hadrons showed through, invitingly. Roger wondered what chance he, in his middle-aged clothes and with his middle-aged body would have in a place like this.
Roger slowly pointed the car toward his old high school. Don't suppose there'll be anyone there now, he thought, but I might as well see what the place looks like. Roger drove up to the corner where his old high school had been. It looked completely different. The campus spread out over two whole blocks now, and there was a long, low, red brick building where, the ancient four-story structure had once stood. Roger parked the car in a visitor's space and began walking over the grounds. At the end of one of the wings of the new building was the old high school Roger had gone to.
It looked insignificant, despite the fact that it was taller than the rest of the school. Who'd have ever thought this would happen, Roger said to himself.
Roger walked over to what had once been the main entrance of the school. It was locked. He went back to the door with the canopy over it and sneakily eyed the pretty teen-aged girls who were loitering around the entrance.
"Haven't seen you around here before," one girl said to him. "You a new teach or something?"
Roger was shocked at her arrogant, inviting tone of voice. "Uh, no," he said. "Just---visiting."
"Too bad," the girl giggled.
Roger walked into the building. On the wall was a map of the campus and a building directory with a red arrow marked, "You Are Here."
He located the old school on the map and noticed that the entire building had been turned into a gym area---practice gyms, the sign read. Apparently the real games were played in the new gym, which doubled as an auditorium. Dressing rooms, he noticed, were on the second floor of the old building, above what had been the main gym once.
Roger felt excitement coming on as he studied the map and remembered his pastime of the old days. In the old days, he remembered, he and his pals had drilled some peepholes into the floor of the boys' john, which was, for some strange reason, above the girls' dressing room, and they'd had themselves a ball, jerking off and exchanging stories about the girls they could see showering down below. He wondered if he could still do that.
He made his way toward the old building. It looked better than ever, he thought. Some walls had been demolished and windows had been replaced with modern types, there had been a necessary paint job. And, even better than he had hoped, there was a directory to that building too, more detailed than the one he'd first seen. The entire main floor had been made into a huge gym that could be divided five or six different ways with partitions. The left half of the second floor, leading to the left part of the gym, was all the girls' dressing rooms and showers.
He ran up to the third floor and turned left, looking for what had once been the boys' bathroom. He thought he had found the correct door, but instead of "Boys" it read "`Coaches' Lounge" Luckily, it was unlocked.
I'll just say I'm a visitor looking over the old homestead if anyone's in here, Roger thought, but as he entered the room, he saw it was empty. The room was nicely decorated and modernized. Several comfortable couches and chairs were placed in a conversation pit. There was a blackboard, a hot plate and refrigerator, and everything necessary for making coffee, plus a wet bar, a small john and a coat room.
Roger tried to imagine the place as it had once been. In his mind's eye he visualized himself and his buddies peeking into the holes over the girls' dressing rooms. The coat room, Roger thought. It was where the coat room is now. Sure enough, at the end of the room, which was long and narrow, in each corner, were two tiny holes.
Roger lay down on his stomach and peered through them as if they were binoculars. He got a clear view of the showers, which weren't anything like they used to be. Once they had been separate cubicles with flimsy white curtains separating them. Now it was a modern tiled room with shower heads coming out of the walls at intervals. He could also see the locker room, divided off from the shower room with a thick tile wall that went about 3/4 of the way up to the ceiling.
The lockers were lined up next to each other, with a row of benches in front, affording the girls no privacy---from each other, or from Roger.
Roger felt his cock grow large and rubbed it over the floor. He hoped someone would come into the dressing rooms soon. What if someone finds me here, he thought. Then he realized that it was still hot and no one would be wearing coats. Fortunately, the coat room had a window, which was open and provided adequate ventilation for Roger.
Maybe I could even get out through that window, if someone comes in to use the lounge, he thought.
Roger let his mind wander. He thought of the pretty young girl who'd stopped him at the school door a few minutes earlier. She'd had on tight dungarees and a halter top, and he wondered how the boys in her class could concentrate on any lessons other than that girl. He imagined her coming into the locker room and stripping off her skimpy halter top. Then he imagined her running into the showers with her tits jiggling. Then he urged her on to soap herself up and play with her titties a little, sudsing them up good and making them glisten and stick out. Then she might suds up her pussy and she might wash herself inside and out, thrusting a soapy finger into that lovely young cunt and bringing it out. She'd rub and rub her twat and her boobs over and over again and she'd begin to breathe real hard, and then Roger imagined himself down there in the shower with her, his cock sticking out so big and hard and she'd give it a few kisses before ramming it into her hot soapy cunt.
Roger felt a thrill zoom through his prick as he wiggled against the door. He wished he had a pillow.
Then Roger remembered that there were throw pillows on the couches in the lounge and went to get one. He rearranged himself so that the pillow was just under his cock. That's better, he thought, although he knew he might stain the pillow when he came. He'd just leave it here on the door, or throw it out the window. No matter.
Just then a bell rang and he heard noises down below. He put his eyes to the holes and saw about a dozen jabbering teenage girls come into the locker rooms. They congregated in twos and threes mostly, and the sound echoed through the room and carried right up to him.
Most of the girls were quite pretty, with long hair in a variety of colors caressing their shoulders. One was chubby, and she wasn't speaking to anyone. She quickly removed her skirt and blouse and put on her gym suit. She'd had good tits, Roger noticed. They were spilling out over her bra, but the rest of her wasn't too great. He watched excitedly as they each undressed. Some wore tiny little bras to cover barely developed titties and some even were braless. Their nipples jutted out invitingly. Some breasts were pointed and others were nicely rounded and all bounced a little bit as the girls put on their shorts and, alas, their blouses for gym.
There was one girl, Roger noticed, who was exceptionally voluptuous. Her ass was nicely rounded and her waist was tiny, while her boobs were big---too big to be without a bra. She wore see---through panties and Roger could see her black cunt bush right through her pants. Even the other girls stared at her, but she didn't seem to mind and she put on her gym suit without embarrassment. The blouse was a little too tight.
"Gosh, Linda," said one of the tiny-titted girls, "I wish I had your figure.
"Yes, Ann, it has its advantages," Linda said.
Within a few minutes all the girls were dressed and out of the locker rooms. Roger began to imagine Linda, the one with big boobs and dark black pussy hair, naked, when he heard more sounds in the locker room.
There was a striking redhead, tall and slender, with braless breasts, wearing a T-shirt, and a shorter blonde-haired girl whose tits jutted out in a point. They both began to undress hurriedly. "We're going to get a late mark," the redhead said.
"So why bother to go at all?" said the blonde. "That bitch in there loves to mark us late. A cut is better than nothing."
"Right," said the redhead. "We could play around a little... we've got until the warning bell rings."
"Let's go in the shower," said the blonde.
They finished undressing and Roger twitched his cock into the pillow. This is too good to be true, he thought, feeling his prick grow harder and harder.
The two naked girls wiggled their delectable asses into the shower room and turned on the water. The redhead began to soap herself up slowly and languorously, fingering over her breasts and playing with them lovingly. She cupped one breast in both soapy hands and said to the blonde, "Alice, why don't you wash me?"
"I'd love to," said Alice, as she reached out for the tit that was offered to her. She washed it and washed it and then, when the shower had rinsed all the soap oil the redhead's breasts, Alice began to suck on them and kiss them. She pulled the redhead's nipples out with her teeth, making them hugely erect and then wiggled her finger back and forth over them, making them vibrate. The redhead began to writhe and wiggle her hips.
"Touch my pussy, Alice," she said.
"Okay, Edith," the blonde said, and she placed her hand on the red cunt hair.
"Alice," Edith instructed. "Put your finger right inside me," and she moved her hand deeper between her legs.
Roger kept rubbing up and down on his pillow. He finally unzipped his pants and took out his swollen cock and played with it. I wish I could put this cock in you, Edith, he thought. I'd like to shove it right into your pussy and give it to you real good.
"That's good," Edith squealed. "Oh, Alice, that feels so good. Just like a man."
"I bet a man feels better than this," Alice said. "A man's thing is bigger than this."
"Yes," sighed Edith, "you're probably right."
"Now you do it to me," Alice said.
"Okay," said Edith. "Only sit down and spread your legs apart."
Alice just had a patch of yellow fuzz covering her pussy. She sat down right underneath Roger's eyes and spread her legs. Roger could see Edith pull her pussy apart and stick her finger right into the hole. Then she rubbed her thumb over Alice's little clit and Alice cried, "Oh, Edith, oh!"
Alice kept wiggling her ass around on the loot and thrusting her hips upward, trying to get Edith's finger in deeper. Her tits bounced and jounced up and down, and Roger longed to get his hands on her boobs and his cock up her cunt.
Edith began squeezing Alice's tits with her free hand, and Alice finally cried out, "Stop. Stop. I can't stand it any more. It feels too good."
"I won't stop until you come," Edith said. She then removed her hand from Alice's twat and began to kiss her upper thighs. "Oh, Alice," Edith said. "You look good enough to eat."
She stuck her head down between Alice's spread legs and began to lick and suck on the girl's clit. Alice shoved violently against Edith's head and soon began to moan, louder and louder. "Oh, God. Oh. Oh. OOOOOOhhhhhhhh," she said, shivering convulsively.
Just then the bell rang and Edith took one more slurp of Alice's cunt juices. They dashed into the dressing room and dried themselves hurriedly, dressed and left.
A few seconds later, the gym class came back into the locker room. Roger took his hands off his cock before it was too late and looked for the voluptuous one, Linda. He spotted her with no trouble, stealing the scene from the lovely, delicate, angelic waif-like creatures, who under any other circumstances, would have been enough for him. But there was no ignoring Linda. Her face was about sixteen, her body maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. Roger wondered how old she was in terms of experience. Surely she must be one of the most sought after girls in the school, Roger thought.
Roger examined the various shapes of asses and boobs displayed below him as the girls chucked their gym suits and walked into the showers. He wiggled his body against the pillow and imagined him shoving his dick into a few of those tight little assholes.
He loved fucking girls in the ass sometimes. It was so tight and warm in there. He liked the way an ass could squeeze his cock. Oh, he liked the way it felt inside a pussy too, but there were times when he hankered after a piece of ass, literally. And this was one of those times. Linda took off her brassiere and exposed her delicious boobs to him. He wondered what she'd say if she knew he was watching her. Linda folded her arms across her midriff and her boobs came together and stuck out over her arms. They were a delicately colored off-white, with large brown nipples at the end, erect and ready to be played with, Roger thought, giving his cock a squeeze.
Her boobs were shaped like perfectly round balloons, or large children's bouncing balls, Roger noticed. There was much too much there to cup in one hand, even two hands. If her breasts hadn't been so firm and high, they would have been a caricature, Roger thought. But as they were, they sent chills up and down Roger's dick. I'd love to shoot off between that pair of melons, he thought.
As Linda turned to walk into the shower room, Roger got a clear view of her ass. It was accentuated by her tiny waist, and Roger thought it was just the right size. Any larger would have made her fat, and any smaller, she would have been just another slim chick with huge titties. No, this girl was just perfect, this Linda. God, how he wanted to fuck and suck with this little cunt, to poke his dick through her black cunt bush and ram it in and out of her wet cunt.
Linda soaped herself all over in the shower, fingering on each part of her glorious body, seemingly enjoying herself. The other girls were laughing and washing more quickly, liking the shower and having innocent fun together, but Linda stood apart, in a different league from the rest. Even all the bouncing tits and asses couldn't detract Roger's gaze from. Linda. His hand began moving faster and faster on his cock. He wanted to come while he was still looking at her, before she put her bra on and covered up those heavenly tits.
Then Roger stopped playing with himself. He had another idea. His dick would just about fit in that peephole he was looking through. He was going to stick his schlong into that hole and imagine he was on top of Linda, sticking his prick into her pussy. He watched her squeeze her boobs into her brassiere and left the dressing room with the others.
Then he raised his body over the hole and guided his prick into it. It wasn't an easy position, because his cock was directed the other way, but when he finally slid it into the hole, it felt exquisite. Up and down, up and down he raised and lowered his body, the smooth wood feeling strangely pleasurable upon his cock. He imagined Linda in the shower below him, soaping herself, playing with her breasts.
In his fantasy, he imagined her looking up and seeing his dick stuck through the hole. She'd look at it and get turned on, he thought.
He pictured Linda looking at his cock sliding in and out of the hole. She would open her mouth slightly, ready to catch his come, and her hand moved up and down her body, over her boobs, down to her cunt and in through her curly black bush to her hot stiff clit.
She would wiggle those boobs and stick out her tongue at his prick. "Come on, big cock," she'd whisper. "Come on, big dick, Just let it all come right out, fucker boy." Now she'd stick her finger right inside her pussy and give him a leering smile while her hand rubbed fast and furiously and her body convulsed in a grand and glorious climax.
"I'm waiting for you, you big prick," Roger imagined her saying, and then he could contain himself no more. The cum gathered in his balls and shot out of him as his cock twitched with almost unbearable pleasure. Roger collapsed on the floor. His dick got limp and shriveled in the hole.
He pulled it out and looked through the peephole once again. There he saw his mark, on the top of the wall between the shower and locker rooms, dripping over both sides. Well, this had been pretty good, he thought. Second-best to really having Linda, he thought, satisfied. Roger stuffed his prick back into his pants and zipped up. He was just opening the door of the coat room when he heard someone coming into the lounge.
He peeked through the crack and didn't believe what he saw. It was Linda. No, he thought, it can't be. He looked again. But it was. It was really Linda. There was a man behind her. Muscular and nice looking, and, if Roger was any judge, no younger than himself.
Linda looked younger and prettier close up. And that incredible body... no there was no mistaking that. She had on a tight red T-shirt and red-checked hot pants. Her boobs bulged out of her shirt and her ass was practically falling out of her shorts.
The man behind Linda closed and locked the door to the lounge. "Better put the chain on, Vince," the girl said.
"Right," said Vince. "Want a drink?"
"Why not," Linda said suggestively.
Vince made them drinks. Roger was almost afraid to breathe, but he couldn't retreat from his position. He wondered how the hell he was going to get out of there, and he wished he were now in Vince's shoes. In spite of the fact that he'd just come, he felt a tingle in his balls. Linda stood with her drink and surveyed the room.
"Pretty nice place you have here, Coach," she said.
"Yep," said Vince. "We like to come up here whenever we can. Talk about strategy, the players and stuff. When we have to get rough with the players because of grades we bring 'em up here too."
"You mean rough like you got with Brady?" Linda said.
"Aw, Linda, I'm sorry I gave Brady such a strict curfew," the coach said. "But he wasn't doing any studying and he was dog-tired every game. You shoulda seen he got more rest."
"You kind of ruined my social life," Linda said, pouting. "No guy on the team wants to be seen with me. Afraid you'll put a curfew on him too."
"Well, Linda, old girl, I hope I can make it up to you. Why don't you tell me about your times with Lonnie and I'll see if I can be just as good to you as he was."
"Oh, Lonnie, forget him," Linda said. "He and I never did much. I let him feel me up a few times, that's all. He ` had too much respect for me to go any further."
"Hmm. I thought you and he had been all the way."
"Naw. I didn't want to either. I didn't want to do it with a virgin for the first time," Linda said.
"You mean... "
"Yeah. I've played around a lot, but never really did it," Linda said. "Most older men are too fat and sloppy for my taste," she said, "and the kids-well, they're just kids."
"Well," Vince said, "I'm not a kid and I'm not fat and sloppy either."
"I know," Linda said. "You're the only attractive older man I've met."
I wonder if she'd like me, Roger thought. Of course, most girls do, he reminded himself. I'm in pretty good shape. His cock was getting hard. I wish I could be the one, instead of Vince. He briefly tried to figure out a way to be at least a part of the action. If only he had a broom, or something. He could say he was the custodian, called in to check on a leak. But no, anything he might do would be suspicious, and the last thing he needed was the head coach of the high school after him.
Linda put down her drink and she and Vince embraced. She rubbed her monstrous titties against his chest and he put his big hands over her ass and squeezed it while he rubbed his cock against her belly. Roger jammed his hand down his pants and began to twiddle his own dick as he anticipated actually seeing the girl naked again and watching her get fucked.
Now Vince was lifting Linda's shirt over her head. He put his hands on her tits and fiddled with them for a few moments and then he unhooked her bra and they burst out.
"Oh, Linda," he said, fondling them. "You're even better than I thought you'd be."
"Thanks," she said sticking out her chest.
Vince lifted her boobs up to his face and began to kiss them. Then he put his mouth over one nipple and sucked hard, until the nipple came out hard and distended. Linda reached down and unzipped Vince's fly. "Let's see what you've got there," she said, pulling out his dick.
It was big, Roger had to admit. Even bigger than his. He touched his own cock as Linda touched Vince's, and it was almost as though Linda was playing with him. What would she say if she knew he was watching? If she'd only say her last name... he could look her up sometime. By now Vince had his clothes off and was starting to remove Linda's shorts. "Turn around," he said. "Let me see your ass."
Linda turned and Vince gave out a low whistle. He rubbed his cock between the cheeks of her ass and reached his arms around to fondle her boobs.
"How far did you go with Lonnie?" he asked. "Did you ever get undressed?"' "No," said Linda.
"Did you ever play with his cock?" Vince asked.' "No. You're the first," she said.
"Like it?" he asked.
"Umm."
"Did Lonnie ever touch you here?" Vince moved his hand down to her bushy black patch of pussy hair.
"No," she said. "But I like it. Keep doing it."
"I will. I will," Vince said. "Linda, did you ever play with yourself?"
"Well... " Linda said.
"You did, didn't you?"
"Um."
"I can tell you have. That's why you're so ready to have a cock inside your cunt now."
"Um," moaned Linda, as Vince continued stroking her clit. Roger could see it sticking out, red and swollen with . passion.
Vince and Linda went over to one of the couches.
"Ever suck a cock?" Vince asked.
"No."
Vince put his cock near Linda's face and she took hold of it and thrust her mouth around it. She moved her head up and down as if she'd been giving blow jobs all her life and Roger could see the pleasure on Vince's face and feel the thrill in his own cock.
Linda stopped after a few seconds. "I've heard about men who shoot off too soon," Linda said. "I don't want that to happen."
"It won't," said Vince. "I can't believe you never did that before."
"Well, I guess it comes naturally."
Vince kept on playing with Linda's pussy and clit until she was writhing with passion. "Put it in," she commanded, "I need it. I can't wait any longer."
Vince lowered himself between Linda's spread-eagled legs and his cock slithered inside her cunt.
"Oh," Linda said. "Ouch, oh, ouch, oh, oh, Oh,"
"I hope I'm not hurting you," Vince panted as he moved his dick in and out.
"Not exactly," Linda said, breathing hard.
"You sure are a tight little virgin," Vince said, giving an extra hard thrust.
"Ouch," Linda said.
"Sorry," Vince said, "but I had to bust your cherry."
"I'm surprised it was there," she said.
"You are a virgin?"
"That doesn't matter," Linda said. "I read it can get broken lots of ways."
"Well," said Vince, "this is the best way."
"Um," Linda muttered.
Vince moved his cock slowly in and out of Linda's pussy and she wiggled her hips under him like no virgin Roger had ever seen.
"Like it?" Vince asked.
"Wow, it's even better than I thought it would be," Linda said. "You're pretty good."
"You are too," Vince said. "You move real nice, Linda. I can't believe you're just sixteen and a virgin."
"Well, I'm still sixteen, but I'm not still a virgin."
"I'd like to make you not a virgin in another way," Vince said.
"How?"
Ever know anyone who got fucked in the ass?" Vince asked.
"No, but I read about it?"
"Like to try it?"
"Why not."
Linda turned around and Vince told her to get up on her hands and knees. Roger was pumping his cock furiously now. Vince spread Linda's ass cheeks open and played with her asshole a little. Then he shoved his cock in.
Linda gave a few shivers of delight. Vince reached his hands in front of her to play with her clit.
"Oh God, Vince, Oh, God! " Linda screamed. "Do it, do it, do it more. Oh, yes, yes, yes." The girl panted and convulsed, and her legs buckled.
Vince pulled her up again and continued ramming her in and out a few more strokes until he shuddered and shot off into her tight little asshole.
As for Roger, he was furiously beating his cock, watching every move the couple made, imagining it was his dick in Linda's asshole and he shot off just as Vince came.
Roger mopped himself up with his handkerchief as the pair dressed.
"Well, Linda, I hope we can see each other again."
"I don't know why not," Linda said.
Vince unlocked out the door and peeked out. "Coast is clear," he said, and the two left.
Roger followed a few moments later. He had to find some action, he thought. It's fun to watch, but next time I'm going to get into the act.
Later that day, Roger reserved a room in downtown Chicago and a table at the Playbunny Club. Tomorrow, after he'd made some sales in the city, he'd get laid, he resolved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tonight I'm going to get a good fuck, Roger swore to himself as he dressed carefully in his motel room. He knotted his tie and put on his jacket. He eyed himself carefully in the mirror and passed his own inspection. He could have taken one of his distributors out to dinner with him, or he could have let the distributor give him a few telephone numbers, but Roger wanted to be on his own tonight. He'd heard that two men don't have a chance of seeing a Playbunny after work hours, but that one man, if he was very lucky, could strike home. And if that failed, well, he could call one of the distributors and see if he could still get fixed up.
Roger drove into the Loop toward the Playbunny Club. An attendant took his car at the club and Roger went inside and checked his hat. The check girl was stuffed into her costume. Her boobs bulged over the strapless top.
Roger peered at her and thought he detected a little brownish nipple showing. When the girl turned to put his hat on the shelf, Roger noticed her ass, which was quite visible in the scanty costume, which completely disappeared in the e crack of her buttocks. The girls might just as well have been bare-assed, for all you could see of them.
As Roger turned toward the dining room, he saw more Playbunnies, all dressed alike, except for the colors of their costumes. He was led. to his table by an exquisite carrot-colored haired girl with milky white skin. He appreciated the jiggling of her ass as she walked jauntily ahead of him.
"Hello," she said, in a sultry voice. "I'm Marie, your bargirl. Would you like a drink?"
Roger ordered a Scotch and sat back to enjoy the scenery. In addition to the bevy of sexy broads around, there was also a floor show going on... fairly tame, but nice to watch anyway. A chorus line of scantily clad dancers was kicking in unison and each girl wiggled suggestively, but they weren't going to strip. It reminded Roger of the Dean Martin TV show.
Before the number ended, Marie brought him his drink. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she wanted to know.
"Just between you and me," Roger said. "Are you free after work tonight?"
"Sorry," said Marie. "I'm flattered but we're not allowed to see customers after hours."
Roger wished he knew the magic word; There must be some way, he thought, to get through to these cunts. A few minutes later, another Playbunny happened by Roger's table. "My name is Nancy," she said to him. Roger stared up into her glossy blue costume. Her tits stuck out so far it was almost as if they were resting on shelves. "May I bring you another drink before I take your dinner order?"
Roger noticed that they all had set lines, delivered flawlessly. He began to wonder if they were even human, but when he saw their asses jiggling and their woman-mounds bulging under their brief costumes, he knew they had something he definitely wanted and it was definitely human---human woman, human pussy, human boobs.
Roger ordered another drink and Nancy disappeared. The chorus line got off the stage and was replaced by a trio of male musicians and a buxom girl singer wearing a slinky, revealing gown. She had a low voice, and did some bumps and grinds as she sang blues numbers.
Nancy came back with Roger's other drink, and she then stood poised over him with her pad and pencil. "Have you studied the menu, sir?" she asked.
"Yes," Roger said, "I'll have one Nancy in blue to go."
"I'm sorry, sir," Nancy said. "We're not allowed to fraternize with the customers."
"I can show you a real good time," said Roger. "I've got plenty of money... we could do the town."
"I'm sorry, sir," Nancy said.
"Well, where can I see a really good show, then?" Roger asked. "The entertainment here is a little on the tame side."
"I'm sorry, sir," Nancy said again. "I wouldn't know. Would you like to order now?"
Roger studied the menu for a few moments and chose filet mignon. "With all the trimmings," Roger said.
"Certainly, sir," replied Nancy.
Roger looked around the room and examined all the faces, tits, and asses, feeling his cock getting hard under the white tablecloth. Where was the one who would break the rules? There must be one, he told himself. There just must be one.
Soon a doe-eyed brunette came over to Roger's table and delivered his meal. She smiled brightly at him and said, "I hope everything is satisfactory, Mr... Mr... "
"Dutton. Roger."
"Mr. Dutton. Would you care for anything else?"
"You didn't tell me your name."
"Oops. I'm a little new here---and sometimes I forget the routine. I'm Suzy."
"I'd like to take you out after your through, Suzy," Roger said. "Anywhere you'd like. Drinking, dancing, floor show, movie... you name it."
"I understand you find the entertainment here a little on the dull side, Mr. Dotton."
"Dutton. Roger."
"There's a little spot not far from here." She handed him a matchbook with the address written down inside.
"When you get to the door, tell the bouncer you're a friend of mine. Maybe I'll even see you there."
Roger ate his steak and listened to the trio and singer. Suzy came back to take his order for dessert.
"Cheese cake," Roger said, looking over her tall voluptuous frame. She had olive---colored skin and big gray eyes.
Her costume was shocking pink and he imagined the pink little cunt that was hidden under it.
"Cheesecake," Suzy said. "Coming right up, Mr. Dutton."
Soon a Playbunny in green sauntered up to the table with his dessert. "Hello. My name is Amy and I'm here to take your order for an after dinner drink."
"How is the Amy?" Roger asked.
"I'm very sorry, sir, but we're not allowed to fraternize with the customers," Amy rattled off in a drone. "Would you care for an after dinner drink?"
"No thanks," Roger said, "You can bring my check."
"Yes, sir," said Amy.
Roger finished his coffee and left the club. The address on the matchbook Suzy had given him wasn't far and Roger was there soon.
He was admitted easily by a man at the door who seemed to known just who Suzy was. "Will she be here tonight?" Roger asked.
"Yes," the man answered. "Our floor show will be starting soon," the man said, "but please go in and get a table. Have a drink on the house."
The place was occupied mostly by men. One or two couples sat at a table, and the waitresses were pretty, but by no means dressed like the Playbunnies. They wore long skirts and sexy tops. Music came from speakers lining the room.
Roger ordered a drink, and it wasn't long before the place began to fill up. Soon the lights dimmed and the curtain opened. A small chorus line of six dancers came out and began to wiggle suggestively.
Suzy was not one of the dancers, and Roger wondered what her connection at the place was. Maybe she waited on tables here after she was through at the Playbunny Club, he thought.
Suddenly the girls on stage were doing more than wiggling, Roger noted. Slowly, and in unison, they began to remove bits and pieces of their costumes, until they were down to G-strings and bras. Then the drum rolls began and each girl removed her bra. All of them had magnificent globular boobs and each of them spun around in a different direction. Roger watched them flapping in the various colored lights, and his cock began to get hard. God, he wished he could get his hands on one of them.
After the chorus line went off the stage, a comedian came out and told dirty jokes. Roger really enjoyed the performer, but he wished Suzy would get here. He had to admit, though, that this show was better than the last one he's been to.
Soon a girl with pasties came over to his table. She'd �" been one of the dancers. The girl jiggled her boobs at Roger and asked if she could get him another drink.
"Yes," Roger said. "What are you doing after the show?" he asked.
"Well, now, that depends," she said. "Who told you about this place?"
"Suzy."
"Oh. Well, let's just wait till after before we talk any further," she said.
"When will Suzy be here?" Roger asked.
"Any minute, now," the girl said.
"How long does the show last?" asked Roger.
"Well, that depends too," said the girl. "You've never been here before, I take it."
"No," Roger said.
"Well, I'm sure you'll like it. Really, the show has just barely started, so stick around. You won't be disappointed."
Roger didn't know what was coming, but he had no intention of leaving, at least until he could find someone to leave with He didn't care how much stripping and sexy dancing he saw on the stage, he wasn't going to jerk off again tonight. Tonight he was going to push his cock into some hairy pussy and fuck and fuck until he couldn't fuck any more, and then he was going to shoot out a big gob of come into some tight wet hot cunt and ram his cock up and up and in and out and in and out until he couldn't ram it one more time. Then that cunt was going to close itself tighter and tighter around his hard. prick and squeeze him til he thought he'd die of pleasure. That's what Roger Dutton wanted and that's what Roger Dutton was going to get.
He hoped he'd get it from Suzy, but he'd take it from any of the girls he saw working here. They were all pretty, all young, early twenties, all had great bodies and he was sure each had a hot lovely cunt ready and waiting for his tool.
Soon the curtain opened again and two lovely bare-breasted black girls came out and did a sexy African-type dance, wiggling their pelvises suggestively and letting their tits twirl around freely. Roger stared hard at them and thought he saw black cunt hair peeking through their grass skirts.
In the middle of this number, Roger felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned around and there was Suzy, dressed in slacks and a T-shirt that stretched tight across her ample boobs. "Hello, Roger," she said. "How do you like the show?"
"I like it just fine, Suzy. I hope you'll join me for the rest."
"Oh, I'd love to Roger, but I work here. I have a number coming up soon, and I've got to get back stage and change now."
"Well, maybe after the show we could have a couple of drinks."
"I have something in mind I think you'll like, Roger," Suzy said. "Just sit back and enjoy the show. I'll see you in a little while."
Suzy disappeared and Roger wondered what kind of an idea she had. All he knew was that if he didn't get his hands on those huge tits and his cock in that pussy he'd go crazy. He longed to touch his fast-growing cock, give it a few squeezes to make it feel real good, but he decided to wait until the lights got even dimmer so no one would see him.
A drum roll sounded again and the m.c. announced that the "Sensational Suzy" would be out next.
Roger's eyes were riveted to the stage. Suzy appeared in a long black gown with a halter top out of which her breasts were spilling. She had on long black gloves, a black hat, and the highest heels he'd ever seen. She put one foot up on a chair and sang a song in French. Roger couldn't understand the words, but he understood well enough I Suzy's gestures and gyrations.
She seemed to be looking directly at Roger as she began to take oil her clothes--first her gloves, then the skirt to her dress. She turned her back- toward the audience and Roger noticed that the bottom of this costume, too, was cut to go up between her ass cheeks. She bent over and wiggled her tail at the audience, and swung her legs over and around the chair a few times. Her costume was so skimpy that it also crept up the crack of her pussy, and the fleshy lips spilled over the black costume. Roger could see the outline of her erect clit in the spotlight. He looked at Suzy's face and had no doubts she was turning herself on with this sexy dance.
From time to time, Suzy passed the back of the chair or the legs of the chair between her own legs, skimming her crotch and wiggling her cunt close to the chair. My God, Roger thought, if she wasn't wearing that scanty costume, she'd be fucking herself with the chair legs.
Suzy turned her back to the audience again and reached her hands up behind her back and took off her halter top. Then she faced the audience again with her huge boobs exposed under the spotlight. She had big brown nipples that stuck straight out at Roger. She put her hands on her tits and squeezed them together, then let them fall and bounce. Then Suzy spread her legs apart and held her arms out to the sides, bent her knees and did some little hops toward the audience, wiggling her hips and boobs as she moved.
Roger's cock grew harder and harder and his eyes were riveted to Suzy's motions. He wondered when she was going to take off the rest of her clothes. He had no doubts that she would eventually strip completely.
Soon Suzy began to slow down her frenetic movements and she began to peel off the bottom part of her costume---the panties. Down, down, down she rolled the panties, ever so slowly, down past her belly button, slowly, slowly, until the first hint of dark pussy hair showed. She kept rolling them down farther and farther until her entire thick curly patch was visible.
She took the panties completely off and stood in the spotlight completely naked except for her shoes. Then she spread her cunt-lips apart and rubbed her finger over her clit until it stuck out a little.
Then Suzy left the stage and began to walk sensuously around the room, stopping at each table and writhing her body suggestively at all the men, inviting them to pinch her ass or give her boobs a little squeeze.
Roger's cock was practically leaping out of his pants by now, and as Suzy approached him he shoved one hand into her pussy and another onto her tit.
He diddled with her clit and her boob. He was so excited he was almost ready to come without anything touching his dick except his clothing.
"Come with me," Suzy whispered.
"Where?"
"Up on the stage."
"Suzy, I don't want to go on the stage with you. I want to take you back to my hotel."
"Believe me, Roger, you want to go on the stage with me."
"What are we going to do?"
"Whatever you like."
She took his hand and led him to the stage. She wiggled all the way back through the club to the platform, and when they got there, she leaned her body against Roger's and kissed him passionately with her tongue inside his mouth.
"Umm," she said, feeling his cock against her. "You've got a nice big hard-on for me, haven't you."
Roger felt embarrassed, but Suzy said to him, "Don't worry. These men are jealous of you. They'd give anything to be in your position right now."
She unzipped his fly and pulled out his bulging purple rock hard cock. She rubbed it over her body, between her tits, between her lips, over her thick black bushy pussy. Then she pulled Roger's pants completely off and took off his jacket, shirt and tie.
She turned him toward the audience and walked behind him to lean against his back and rub her body over his. She put her arms around his waist and reached down to toy with his prick.
Then she let Roger feel her all over, her tits and her ass and her pussy. He stuck his fingers inside her wet hot cunt and wiggled them around. Then he rubbed his thumb back and forth over her hard clit until Suzy was gasping for breath. They were both moving in time to the hard driving music.
"Do you want to fuck me, or should I suck you off?" Suzy said.
"Fuck her, fuck her, fuck` her," the audience shouted back.
"No, suck him, suck him," other members of the audience responded. "Give him a blow job," yelled a man in the comer..
"How about licking my cock for a few seconds and then letting me fuck you in the cunt and in the asshole," Roger said.
"Fantastic," said Suzy. She put his prick in her mouth and pulled in her cheeks. Then she raised and lowered her head, bringing his glistening prick out of her mouth on each stroke for all the people to see. She continued doing this, and also flapping her tongue against the tip of his cock until he could bear it no longer.
Then Roger laid Suzy down on the floor of the stage and got on top of her. She guided his dick into her pussy and sighed as he entered her hole. In and out, up and down, they moved to the beat, Roger's balls thumping against her ample ass.
When Roger was close to climaxing, he removed his dick from her twat and said, "Let me go in your ass now, Suzy."
Suzy turned over and got on her hands and knees, giving the audience a sideways view. Roger spread her cheeks apart with his hands and then reached under and collected her dripping cunt juice in his palm. He rubbed it over his cock and aimed for her little brown tight asshole. His prick went in easily and he felt himself immediately being squished by the tightness of her ass. He held off coming as long as he could, to savor the pleasure of being so tightly held, but his staying power was nearly gone. In and out, in and out he moved his dick, and suddenly, without warning and without his wanting it to, the juice welled up in his balls and shot out his cock, filling her ass with gobs of cream.
Suzy squeezed every last drop out of his thrusting tool. When he was finished coming, she pulled herself off of him and said, "Thank you. That was delightful."
She gave him his clothes and he put them on quickly and took his seat again. Suzy was already back in the audience picking out the next lucky man.
She walked around and around each table, inviting the customers to feel her up again. She stuck her tits into some mouths and stood in ecstasy while the men sucked and played with her.
A few times Suzy reached under the table and played with a cock. She even approached the few men who were with a woman and diddled their cocks a little, talking dirty to them, telling the women that she would not choose any of their men because they would give them a good fuck after the show and she didn't want to wear them out. Finally Roger saw her whisper in the ear of one man who was alone at the bar.
He followed her up to the stage and she asked the man to lick her cunt. Roger had a clear view of Suzy's clit being whacked off and she moaned with pleasure.
"Now let's fuck," Suzy said to the man. And he got on top of her and they went through the old in out in out until they both climaxed convulsively, shuddering and moaning together.
The man hurriedly put on his clothes and Suzy again stepped out into the audience. This time she choose two men simultaneously.
The three of them walked up to the stage and she undressed them both. "You can do with me whatever you wish," Suzy said. The men took turns playing with her boobs and her pussy and then she alternated between the two, sucking each one's cock.
Finally she settled on one of the men to suck, and it was clear to Roger that she was going to finish him off then and there.
Up and` down her head bobbed pulling the man's prick to glorious heights. She took his balls in her hands and squeezed gently, slurping on his dick all the while, until he couldn't contain himself and white cream spilled out of his prick into Suzy's mouth and dribbled down her chin. She licked all of it up and gave the man's prick a final kiss. Then she took the other man's dick and placed it between her massive tits and squished her breasts around it and moved her body sensually up and down, until he too shot his spunk all over her.
She rubbed the creamy semen all over her body, enjoying every touch. Her hands moved up and down her body, coming to rest in strategic spots, fingering over others, until she reached her twat, which she played with endlessly, working herself into a frenzy, moving her hips in time to the music.
Roger started for the door, watching her orgasm out of the comer of his eyes. When he reached the door he asked the bouncer, "How long does this go on?" and the man replied, "Until Suzy decides to stop."
"She looks about finished," Roger said.
"No, she'll give five or six more customers a little fun before she's done."
Roger shook his head and started back for his hotel, not entirely sure he wasn't dreaming.
CHAPTER NINE
Roger drove home from Chicago a happy man. That Suzy was like no other woman he'd ever known. He didn't know now what he could do that could top that experience. All he knew was that as he thought about it, he got excited. He was ready for action again, and this surprised him, because he wasn't such a young man.
But there were no promising female hitch hikers on the road this time. They were all back at school, safely, or not so safely, in their dorms, studying a little and fucking a lot, probably. Besides, in a pinch, there was always his wife. She was still a pretty good lay, Roger thought. But he craved variety, and what his wife didn't know, he figured, wouldn't hurt her.
When Roger got home it was past dinner time. He grabbed his wife and gave her a good quick fuck, which she probably enjoyed more than he did, but it satisfied him temporarily.
The next morning he went to see Gessner and report about his trip. He missed seeing Abby there and in his mind's eye he imagined her sucking Rita's boobs while Rita fondled his dick. What would Gessner say if he knew?
"Have a good trip?" Gessner asked.
"Fine, just fine," Roger said. "It was real nice to have company along. Abby's a real fine gal, Fred. Real nice girl."
"She didn't tell you anything about her life---her social life, did she?"
"No. We just talked small talk."
"Um. Didn't say she had a boyfriend or anything?"
"Why?"
"Well, she doesn't seem to date much and isn't much concerned about getting married. Her mother and I are a little worried. A pretty girl like Abby... "
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much. She's a pretty smart gal. Probably just hasn't met anyone interesting enough etc."
"Yeah. I never thought I'd be concerned because my daughter wasn't boy crazy, though. Figured it'd be the other way around."
"I'm sure it'll turn out okay," Roger said. "I'm going to clean things up at the office now. I'll probably be in town the rest of the week."
"Come in Monday, Roger," Gessner said. "We'll figure out what spot to hit next."
"Right." Roger left Gessner's office remembering Abby in her tied-up shirt and sexy dungarees. God, that girl had tits. He wondered if Fred would ever find out his daughter was a Lesbian. A girl who liked other girls. A girl who liked to play with big boobs and suck on twats and stick her fingers into pussies and roll her tongue around in cunts and kiss other girls on the lips. He wondered if Fred imagined in his wildest dreams that his big-titted little girl liked to have other girls ram their fingers into her cunt and play with her glorious boobs and diddle her clit and maybe stick a dildo into her pussy. He wondered what Fred would say if he told him the truth about Abby. He'd probably accuse him of being a liar and fire him.
When Roger got home later that day his wife told him they'd been invited to dinner at her parents house. Roger didn't see much of his in-laws. His wife went to visit them frequently when Roger was out of town, but Roger didn't care much for relatives. "This time you're coming with me," his wife said sternly. "The family hasn't seen you for at least five years. It doesn't look right."
"Okay, dear," Roger said, his memory flashing back to the last time his wife's family had been over to see them. There was the little scrawny sister of his wife's, who she mentioned now and then and who must be pretty grown up by now. "By the way, how's your sister, what's her name?"
"Ginger. Ginger. Roger, you're terrible with names. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"Well, how's Ginger? Remember we used to give her a quarter to get lost when we were courting?"
` "Yes. Well, she's almost old enough to be courting herself now. She's seventeen and nearly ready to graduate from high school. She just started her senior year."
"My, my. Time sure does fly."
Roger and his wife got in the car and headed out Northern Boulevard to Great Neck, the same community in which Gessner lived. Roger knew better than to go on the Expressway. Although it was called an expressway, the road was known by everyone as the "world's longest parking lot." It was better to go a different route, even though every block had a Traffic light.
Twenty minutes later they turned down a lovely tree-lined street with gentle curves and sprawling expensive ranch houses spaced every other acre. Roger wondered briefly if his wife missed the many luxuries her father had provided for her. Roger himself made a nice living. There wasn't much they were without, but he had to admit he wasn't really in this class.
They parked in the driveway, and as they walked up to the front door, it opened and out bounded a golden-haired, high titted teenager in tight cutoffs and T-shirt. The teenager kissed his wife on the cheek and said to him, "`Well, well, if it isn't the old brother-in-law. Hiya Stranger."
"So you're Ginger," Roger said, looking at her appreciatively as his wife went inside to greet her parents. "My but you've grown."
"Yes,' said Ginger in a sugary voice. "And you look just as good as ever," she went on. "I always thought you were kind of cute, but all you ever wanted to do was give me quarters."
"Well," Roger said, "you were just a little pest in those days."
"It wasn't very nice of you not to let me watch. I may have been young, but I was also curious."
Roger felt a twitch in his cock. No, he told himself. Not my sister-in-law. No.
These girls like to talk big, he told himself. She's as innocent as she used to be. She must be. But as he walked into the house, he had to brush by Ginger and she rubbed her hard firm tit against his arm and then he knew he'd been lying to himself.
Roger had had enough experience with teens to know they weren't as innocent as he'd once thought they were. This Ginger was probably no exception.
Roger greeted his in-laws. They chatted for a while and said as soon as Ginger's friend arrived, they'd begin dinner.
Ginger's friend turned out to be a young man with long hair and a guitar slung over his shoulder. Roger studied the way they looked at each other and he decided they were fucking each other. Roger envied the young man, but from the way Ginger had talked to him, she wasn't the faithful type.
After dinner, they retired to the living room. Soon Ginger and the young man disappeared. Roger excused himself and headed for the bathroom.
But on his way there, he stopped and looked in all the bedrooms and nooks and crannies, hoping to End Ginger and the boy.
As he passed a closed door in the hallway, he thought he heard some sounds, so he opened the door. Ginger and the boy were standing against the wall, humping like crazy, with their clothes on. The boy quickly pushed Ginger, away from him when he heard the door open.
"Don't worry, it's only Roger," Ginger said, smiling at him.
"I was looking for the bathroom," Roger said.
"The next door," Ginger said. When Roger left Ginger closed the bedroom door again and this time Roger thought he heard it lock.
Roger went into the bathroom and pulled out his cock. It was hard. Roger thought about Ginger. and what she might be doing to that boy and his cock grew even harder. He imagined Ginger sucking on it for him, her golden locks spilling over his stomach, and he gave his prick a few hard jerks. He imagined Ginger's little tits pressing against him, and imagined her golden-haired pussy opening up to receive his big purple prick and he imagined himself ramming it in and out of her. Up and down his hand moved on his dick, harder and harder. He squeezed his fist around it and imagined Ginger and her boyfriend fucking fucking fucking and before he knew it he was coming.
Roger washed his hands and peed. He stuffed his prick back into his pants and went back into the hallway. The door to the bedroom was open now, and the room was empty.
When Roger got back to the living room, Ginger and her boyfriend were sitting there with the rest of the family. Soon the young couple got up to leave, Ginger saying she'd be back around midnight or so. As soon as she left, Roger became unbearably bored and reminded his wife that he had to put in a full day at the office tomorrow.
"Well, what did you think of Ginger?" his wife asked on the way home.
"Oh, Ginger," Roger said, yawning. "Seemed okay. She going to marry that guy?"
"No," his wife said. "Mom says she's got a different fellow every week. She's very popular, Mom says."
"Well, she's pretty," Roger said, "looks sorta like you." The next morning Roger headed for the office. Before he'd even sat down at the desk his phone rang.
"Hello, Roger. Know who this is?" sang out a sexy voice.
"Uh, no, not really." It sounded like Ginger.
"Well, it's little Ginger."
"Ginger, how nice to hear from you." Roger's hand began to shake and his cock twitched inside his underwear. "What do you want?"
"Well," Ginger said, "first I want to know if I can trust you?"
"What do you want?"
"Are you going to blab about what you saw in the bedroom the other night, or are you cool?"
"I'm cool. Believe me, I'm cool." Roger said, feeling the sweat roll off his forehead.
"Well," Ginger continued. "If you're cool, and if you want to have some fun, and if you can keep secrets from your wife and my parents, then I may be able to help you out."
"Yes," Roger said, trying to keep his voice calm.
"You're interested, then?" Ginger asked.
"Go on, Ginger. Please. Go on."
"My boyfriend, the one you met last night, is having a party. His parents are away and he's very rich. Very rich. There's a pool and a bar and just about everything you could want there... good music, and all that stuff. You want to come?"
"When?"
"Tonight." Ginger gave him the address. It was in Kings Point, the wealthiest section of Great Neck.
"Are you going to be there?"
"Of course, silly. I wouldn't miss this party for anything. Everyone says it's going to be the greatest."
"Well, what time?" Roger asked.
"Eight o'clock. Don't be late," Ginger said.
"Your boyfriend doesn't mind if I come?"
"No, silly."
Roger called his wife and told her that a client was in town and that he wouldn't be home for dinner that night. The day didn't pass quickly enough for him. He worked fast and furiously, hoping he wouldn't notice the hours going by, but he did. He kept looking at his watch, doing more figuring, and finally, he left the office in frustration and anticipation. He didn't know what this party was going to be like, but it couldn't be bad. At the least, he'd see a fancy house and get a good swim.
Roger went out of the office and into a store to buy a pair of swimming trunks. They were sold out. He went into another store, and then another, and not one store had one pair of trunks left. He couldn't go home to get his suit, because his wife would get suspicious.
He imagined himself being the only one not swimming because he didn't bring his suit. He wondered how Ginger and her boyfriend would react to his going naked in the pool. He passed one more store. It was getting late now, and Roger didn't have much time to grab a bite for dinner and get out to Great Neck, but he ducked into the store and asked the salesman for a suit.
"Kind of late in the season," the man said.
"I know," Roger replied. "Just thought I'd ask, on the chance."
"I might have something in the stock room," the man said, and he went back to look. He came out with two swimming trunks.
One of them was Roger's size, so he took it. "You were lucky," said the man. "These were going back to the manufacturer tomorrow."
"Thanks a lot," Roger said.
Roger got himself a sandwich and then headed for Penn Station and the Long Island Railroad. He settled himself down in the train and watched the parade of people passing through his car looking for seats. There were plenty of pretty girls, coming home from work and the private specialty schools in the city. They traveled in packs, laughing and whispering, and Roger wished he was a teenager again, in this day, when he could have gotten what he wanted without having to fight for it. When the train got to Great Neck, Roger hopped a cab for Kings Point. It was five minutes after eight when he rang the doorbell. The boy he'd seen with Ginger last night opened the door.
"Hello, Roger. Nice to see you. Hey, everyone, Roger's here."
Roger walked into the living room and saw Ginger and about fifteen other young people, girls and boys, lounging on the floor. The air was heavy with the smell of marijuana. Several of the teenagers were taking drags on joints and passing them around.
Ginger got up and walked over to Roger. She took his hand and led him to the center of the crowd. They sat down on the door and Ginger offered him a cigarette. He took. a pull, happy that he'd had a little experience with grass so he knew what to do.
"Hey, he knows about joints," one girl said. "He's a hip old man. Ginger, why didn't you tell us he was a hip old man?"
"I didn't know," Ginger said. "Roger, this is Flossie."
"Nice to meet you, Roger," Flossie said, "and this here's Buck, and that's James, and that's Rona, and that's Sylvia, and over there's Ritchie, and that girl in the black that's Donna." She went on and on, introducing him to everyone, but Roger soon lost track of the names. He was busy staring at the lovely bodies around him. He began to wonder what kind of party this was, anyway.
As he looked around the room, he saw Howard, Ginger's boyfriend, necking with another girl. He pointed this out to Ginger, who didn't seem in the least disturbed. In fact, she turned her luscious body toward Roger and began kissing him.
Roger put his arms around her and kissed back, feeling a little embarrassed until he realized no one was looking at him. Everyone was kissing someone else, and it wasn't long before Ginger was fiddling with his belt.
"Ginger," he said, "what's going on here?"
"You've never been to an orgy, Roger? What kind of a man are you?"
Ginger tugged his pants down and then unbuttoned his shirt. She then took off her own clothes and twirled around for Roger to admire. "You like."
Roger grabbed her for an answer. He put his hands on her tits. Each boob just at into his palm. Her nipples grew stiff with excitement.
Ginger's golden pussy hair glistened in the half-light and Roger stuck his hand on her mound and found her clit. Ginger wriggled against his hand...
Roger's cock was sticking straight up now, and he was just about to find a spot on the floor to lay Ginger down in when he felt a hand on his prick. It was Flossie's. "You don't mind, do you, Roger?"
"Not at all," Roger said.
Ginger played with Roger's balls while Flossie moved her hand up and down on his cock Flossie had big floppy boobs that jiggled with each stroke and Roger put his hands on them. Soon another girl arrived to join them. Roger didn't know her name, but she had black hair and a p black bush over her pussy. She stuck an ample breast near Roger's mouth and he began to suck on it. He stuck one hand in her pussy and she writhed with pleasure on his hand.
Then Roger noticed that the girls were not only feeling him up, but were playing with each other too. Ginger and Flossie stopped squeezing him for a few moments to play with each other's titties, and the third girl, who by now had said her name was Venus, put her mouth around his cock and began sucking with excruciating slowness.
Roger began to look around the room a little and saw Howard fucking Sylvia in the ass. His cock was huge, as big as his own, and he couldn't believe the boy was only seventeen. Sylvia was lying on her stomach, her face buried in another girl's pussy as Howard was fucking her. All around the room, people were fucking and sucking like crazy. He even saw two boys holding each other's cock.
"Keep those two away from me," he said to Ginger, whose hand was deep in her own twat while Flossie sucked her boobs.
"Don't worry. They're the only two fags here. Flossie and I invited them because we like to watch them give each other blow jobs."
Before Roger knew what was happening, Venus removed his cock from her mouth and moved over to where Sylvia and Howard were. Sylvia's girl had left the scene and Venus took her place, while Howard continued his ass fuck.
Flossie began to eat Ginger's pussy, but Roger gently pushed her out of the way. She moved a bit reluctantly and Roger began to shove his prick into Ginger's tight wet pussy. "Come here, Flossie," Ginger said. "I'll eat you."
Flossie spread her legs and sat on Ginger's head, while Ginger's tongue dipped in and out of Flossie's cunt. Ginger's pussy squeezed itself around Roger's prick while Roger stroked in and out of it, loving the tightness. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn Ginger was a virgin because her pussy was so tight.
Flossie said to him, "You're fucking the tightest cunt in town, Roger. Consider yourself lucky."
Soon Roger heard all sorts of strange moaning sounds coming from the room. There were screams, grunts, cries of "Oh, yes," and "Fuck me, baby," and Roger began to feel the cum welling up in his balls.
Pretty soon Flossie began screaming too, and she said to Ginger, "Ginger, Mark and Donald are sucking each other now. It's too bad you can't see, but they're doing it right now, pulling at each other's dicks and making them so hard and shiny. Oh, Ginger, eat me more, suck harder, Oh, Ginger, I'm coming and so are` Donald and Mark coming. Now Ginger, Now."
Ginger began to pump her body frantically beneath Roger. She began gasping for air and then her cunt convulsed around his prick And she let out a muffled screech while she came hard around Roger's dick. Then she reached under him and squeezed his balls with her hand and Roger heard himself grunt while the juice poured out of his cock and mingled with Ginger's juices that had been leaking from her hot pussy all night.
The room was silent for awhile, and then slowly the lovely bodies started getting up and walking naked out the sliding glass doors that led from the living room to the pool.
"Want to swim?" Ginger asked.
"Sure," said Roger.
In the pool everyone was squeezing tits, asses and cocks, "in anticipation of the next round," said Ginger.
"Next round?"
"Sure, when everyone changes partners. See, people are starting to pair up and group off now. Who do you want to fuck next?"
"Ginger, I hate to say this, but I don't think I can do it again. I think I'd better go home now. But I hope you'll invite me again some time."
"Sure, Roger. We have these parties once a month. You can come anytime. Even if you're only good for one, it's a good one. I've been wondering for years what it would feel like to have your cock in me, and I liked it just fine." Roger left the pool and went back into the living room to put his clothes on. "Leaving so soon, Roger?" Sylvia asked. "Why don't you call me sometime? Ginger says you're very hot stuff."
Roger wrote down Sylvia's number, although he didn't think he'd be able to do much for her very soon, at any rate.
"Call between 3 and 5 in the afternoon," Sylvia said. "My mother gets home at 5."
Roger stashed the number in his wallet. When he got home his wife woke up from a sound sleep and mumbled, "Have a nice time?"
"Oh, these clients. I'd rather they stayed home," Roger said. "Good night, dear."
Three days later, while his wife was out shopping, Roger felt that familiar twitch in his cock while remembering the orgy. He got Sylvia's phone number from his wallet and dialed.
"Hello," she said.
"Hello, this is Roger."
"Why, lover boy, I'm glad you called. I've been thinking about you," Sylvia said.
"I've been thinking about you, too," Roger said, placing his hand on his cock.
"What have you been thinking?"
"I've been thinking about us getting together, maybe alone."
"That might be nice, "Sylvia said. "And what would we do?"
Roger's hand squeezed his cock harder. "You want to discuss it now?"
"Sure," said Sylvia. "There's no one here. I can't see you until tomorrow night, but I can listen to you right now. I've got a nice pussy waiting for you. Why don't you take your cock out of your pants and I'll imagine what it looks like... "
Roger began fabricating a story to tell his wife about where he'd be tomorrow night, while Sylvia's voice crooned on, Roger kept jerking off, knowing Sylvia was doing the same. Tomorrow night, it would be for real, Roger know, and he know also that he'd be a dirty old man for life.
