Jeanie Jones had carried me to a peak of ecstasy previously unknown. I did not want to come down. I looked forward to our next encounter with an enthusiasm that surprised even myself.
She excited me the moment she walked through the doorway. I stepped behind the lectern and thrust my hand into my pants to conceal my agitation as Jeanie strode down the aisle and lowered herself into her seat. .
I was oblivious to everyone else in the classroom. All my concentration was centered on Jeanie, waiting for her to lean back and tease me with a glimpse of her gorgeous white thighs.
I waited, but nothing happened. The tension was too much. I knew I was going to make a fool of myself.
CHAPTER ONE
She didn't have any pants on.
I stopped in the middle of a sentence and reached into the breast pocket of my jacket for my glasses. I wiped them carefully, put my finger on my place in the lecture notes, and looked up. The girl in the second seat in the front row-a young lady who my seating chart identified as a Miss Jeanie Jones-was sitting in her chair, with her legs spread wide apart. Her mini-skirt was well up over her thigh and I could see that I had not been mistaken; the dark thatch of her pubic hair was exposed to me, silky and fine, a patch of ebony beauty between the alabaster white of her legs. I cleared my throat and wiped the perspiration from my forehead with my handkerchief. I had to get on with the lecture. There were thirty faces staring at me, waiting for me to get on with it ... thirty faces and one lovely vagina.
"And so," I continued, my tongue clacking against the dry roof of my mouth, "if you examine the way in which the hydrogen atom is constructed, you will find...."
I stopped, mesmerized by the spectacle in front of me. Jeanie Jones had slumped further down in her seat and spread her legs even wider. Through some trick unknown to me, she was clenching and unclenching the muscles in her uppet thighs so that the wisps of pubic hair moved aside, exposing a pair of pink, tender lips that were just beginning to bead with moisture. She moved again and I could see up into her body. She was very wet now, droplets of love juice forming along the crease of her sex. She was staring directly at me, her eyes open and inviting, clouded with lust.
I must be mistaken, I thought. I had never heard of anything like this. Of course, there were always the stories about girls willing to do anything to get a good grade in a course they were failing. But this was the beginning of the term! Besides, I had never believed those tales. I came from a small town in the Midwest and I knew that people simply didn't act that way. No people that I had ever known, anyway.
I swallowed hard and removed my glasses, hoping to remove temptation along with them. My member had swelled to massive proportions and I found myself rubbing myself involuntarily against the hard, polished wood of the lectern behind which I stood. I was afraid I was going to climax, and that would be most embarrassing if any student came up to ask me questions later.
I could not afford any scandal. This was my first term as lecturer at the university. I had been most fortunate to get the appointment, as there were hundreds of qualified graduate students. Probably, I had been given the position because of what the university administrators considered to be my high moral standards. What would they say if they could see me now! Here I was only half-way through my lecture, and I was virtually paralized by a monstrous erection. They hadn't told me there'd be girls in my classes who wore no panties and who would wave their private parts in my face!
I swallowed hard. My eyes found their way back to my notes.
"You will find, uh ... you will find that it is most usual. If you will look up here to where I have sketched this diagram...."
I could hear the rustle of bodies moving in their seats as the majority of students looked up at the part of the blackboard where I had laboriously drawn the structure of the hydrogen atom. I did not turn; I could not. It was as if Jeanie Jones held me like a magnet.
Her triangle was still completely exposed to my view and her eyes were boring into mine. In addition, she had folded her hands together on the pretext of resting them on the arms of her desk. But she was not resting. Rather, her clasped hands had come up under her breasts and were pushing them up and down, squeezing them so that I imagined I could see her nipples poking through her light, yellow sweater. I could tell she wore no bra.
"I ... I...."
Her breasts were bobbing up and down, maddening me. There was moisture on her thighs now. She was running her tongue back and forth across her lips.
A student in the back of the room stood up. "Professor," he said, "are you all right?"
"Of course I'm all right!" I answered. "No," I added quickly. I simply couldn't go on. I knew that now. "I have a ... headache." I had to get away from Jeanie Jones. Otherwise, I might do something that I would regret and which would cause me to lose my teaching position. "I have a splitting headache. I'll cancel the rest of the lecture for today, if you don't mind. And no questions, please. I simply can't think."
They all seemed quite excited at this unexpected reprieve. They jumped from their seats and hurried from the room.
All except Jeanie Jones. She was still sitting in her seat, her legs spread. Now her hands cupped her breasts, openly pointing them in my direction.
"Miss Jones," I began, putting my hand to my forehead. "I'm afraid you must excuse me. I have a throbbing headache."
"That's hot true, Professor," the girl said in a throaty, husky tone that fired my blood. "You have a throbbing something else. Don't you think that I know it?"
"Miss Jones!" Even as I protested, I could feel the moisture forming on my organ's tip. "I really can't allow you to...."
"Don't you like my body?"
I was completely speechless. I had never met a girl like this. I stood with my mouth open, staring after her as she rose and went to the door. Before, I had wanted her to leave. Now I was afraid that she would.
I needn't have worried. There was the sound of the lock clicking in the door and then she turned and came walking slowly back in my direction. Her unfettered breasts bobbed as she moved and her hips swung invitingly. Her eyes were the color of smoke.
"Miss Jones, I really don't understand...."
She stepped up onto the speaker's platform and, without a moment's hesitation, put her hand on my swollen member. I jumped and let out a shriek.
"Relax, Professor," Jeanie Jones said, slowly stroking me, "someone will hear you."
I was quite beside myself with desire. I could not have controlled myself, even if I had wanted to. My fingers flew to one of her breasts. It was very large and soft, spongy ... except for the nipple which was rock hard. I slipped my hand under her sweater and began to squeeze a fleshy globe. My loins were bursting with pressure.
"Miss Jones," I gasped between breaths, "why are you doing this?"
"I like to check out all the new professors," she said, unzipping my fly and taking out my erect member, never missing a stroke. "It's my hobby. Should I stop?"
"No," I groaned, suddenly quite indifferent to the possible loss of my job. "Don't stop."
With her free hand, Jeanie Jones lifted her sweater so that her breasts were completely bared. I stared at them for a moment and then my muscles moved with a will of their own. A small, animal groan escaped my mouth as I bent over and seized one of the hard, red nipples in my mouth, squeezing it with my lips and lapping at it with my tongue.
Jeanie Jones groaned and clasped my head to her chest, holding me tight. The fingers of her free hand were now stroking between my thighs. Occasionally she would cup me, and bounce me lightly up and down. I exploded in her hand.
I thought I was finished. The one or two other experiences I had had were over when I exploded. It was not to be that way with Jeanie.
She held me tightly, so that I was unable to take my mouth away from her breasts. Her hand continued to stroke my flesh and, in a moment, I was hard once again.
I could contain myself no longer. Grasping the girl around the hips, I lifted her bodily off the floor and set her on the lectern. With one motion, I raised her skirt and buried my mouth on her wet mound.
I had heard about doing this but had never actually done it. The pleasure of my lips in her sex was indescribable, filling me with a fire unlike any I had ever known. My tongue moved automatically, in and out, up and down, as if I had performed this act a hundred times.
Jeanie was crying now with passion, her tears wetting the back of my neck while the love juice from her body flooded my mouth and ran down my chin. I gripped her buttocks. My fingers dug into the soft, dimpled flesh. She moved back and forth, using her hands to push my mouth deeper into her.
Suddenly she quivered and stiffened; my mouth was bathed in warm fluid.
In an instant, Jeanie Jones was down off the lectern and on her knees before me. I gazed down in wonder as the tip of her tongue darted out and touched the sensitive crest at the top of my organ. Then her lips were on the tip, her tongue lapping back and forth across the cleft.
I was insane with need. I shuddered and thrust my hips forward. My rod slid into her wet mouth with no trouble. I could feel it hit the back of her throat but she made no sound nor did she seem to feel any discomfort. Jeanie Jones was truly an expert.
She was moving back and forth on me now, sucking and licking me with her tongue, even as her hands played with my flesh. Occasionally, her teeth would nibble but never enough to hurt. Her every action was calculated; designed to inflame me further and drive me wild.
I was about to erupt again. She must have sensed this, for just as the fluid began to bubble through me, she leaped up on the lectern, spread her legs and lifted me into her.
My pole slid in to the limit. The inside of her body felt as though it were flaming, so that my flesh must burn at its touch.
I gave one last heave with my hips and felt the tip of my weapon touch the entrance to her womb. She squealed with delight and threw her arms around me as both of us exploded in an unbelievable torrent of moist and quivering release.
My breathing was shallow and rapid as I pulled out of her and zipped myself up.
Jeanie Jones laughed as she climbed off the lectern and rearranged her clothing. She seemed completely unfazed by the fact that she had just had intercourse with her college instructor, a man she hardly knew. There was so much I did not understand.
She finished smoothing her hair and stood before me, her hands on her hips. I could feel desire rising through me once again but I held it in check; I was due in my next class in a few minutes.
"You're good," she said. "Professor, you're really good."
"I'm not a professor," I said, feeling rather foolish. "I'm only an instructor."
"Ah," Jeanie Jones breathed, "but you're a professor of love! That's the only subject worth studying."
"Really? I mean, was I really good?"
"Oh, yes."
"I haven't had that much experience, you know."
"You could have fooled me."
I was filled with a rush of pride. Before this, lovemaking had always been sort of mechanical. "Do ... do you do this often?"
Immediately, I was sorry I had spoken. I was afraid that I might have embarrassed the girl. But she gave no indication that she had been hurt by my question. She smiled, displaying a line of perfect, white teeth.
"Oh, yes," the girl said. "I do this very often. After all, don't we live through our senses?"
"I suppose we do," I said slowly. Up to this time, I had always lived in my mind. "Yes, I suppose we do at that."
"Well, I believe so," Jeanie Jones said, squeezing her breasts as if to make her point. "This is how I get to know people. I know you now, and I like you. Would you like us to know each other better?"
"God, yes," I said, hardly daring to breathe or blink, afraid that I would awaken and find it was all a dream.
"Good," Jeanie Jones said, turning to go. "I'll see you, Professor."
In a moment, she was gone. "Yes," I said quietly, almost to myself. "I'll see you."
The bell rang. I gathered up my notes and hurried out of the classroom on my way to the next. I knew that my life had been changed.
But I had no way of knowing the nightmare into which that change would lead me.
I was no longer content with the pleasures of my academic life. Jeanie had awakened the hunger of my flesh. That hunger demanded to be fed.
I was certainly not a virgin. I had had my share of women, but I had never known how fabulously exciting sex could be.
I thought back to my first initiation into sex and marveled at how far I had come. I had to laugh when I relived how stupid and untutored in the ways of sex I had been.
I was sixteen before I got my first real piece of tail. I had played around with a lot of girls when I was younger, rubbing my little dick up against their hairless pussies and such, but I had never actually penetrated and got my rocks off inside a girl until Maryann.
Maryann was a voluptuous fifteen-year-old who used to come over to my parents' house and babysit for my two sisters, aged three and five. She was the sort of girl I usually went out with, but I wanted to get inside her pants in the worst way.
Being much older now. I have a much better appreciation of young pussy, but even then Maryann's budding womanhood turned me on like no other girl I had known.
She had just passed the age of puberty and had probably experienced her first menstrual flow only six months before I suddenly got the hots for her, but unlike most young cunts who have just passed the first bloody stage of womanhood and whose bodies were all sharp planes and angles, Maryann had a precociously developed female body.
Her tits were big and round and seemed just about a perfect fit for my lusting hands. She had a small waist and wide thighs and a perfectly round ass with two generously developed buttocks that jiggled when she walked.
And legs like I had never seen before. There's something about the smoothness and flowing curves of a young girl's legs that can never be duplicated in an older woman. When I see the soft, firm white flesh curving gently upwards to barely revealed thighs I always want to run my hands along those enticing extremities and massage that lively meat.
And Maryann's legs were no exception-or, rather, they were exceptional compared to other girls' legs. I used to stare at them furtively when I knew she wasn't looking, and I'd get a festering bone-on just from imagining what fantastic delights they led up to beneath her skirt.
Like most boys at that age I was somewhat shy of girls. I dreamed of them constantly, and lost myself in erotic fantasies of their voluptuous images when I furtively whacked off in the bathroom or under my bedclothes at night. But as yet I didn't know how to translate those exciting dreams into reality.
But even though I had yet to knock off my first piece and had no clear idea of how to go about seducing a girl, I had prepared myself for this eventuality by buying a package of rubbers which I hid in my dresser. I didn't know when I'd get a chance to use them, but I felt much more of a man for having them in my possession.
One night my parents were going out to a movie and Maryann came over to sit with my two sisters. Left alone in the house with her I could think of nothing else but her pussy and what it must feel like to be inside her, but I pretended that nothing was further from my thoughts.
I was watching television while Maryann was playing with my sisters. All three were rolling around on the floor together, giggling fit to burst.
Every now and then I'd look over at them and catch a glimpse of Maryann bending over with her skirt all tangled up about her waist and her white panties showing and I'd get a catch in my throat and my adolescent cock would become aroused like a wild animal in a cage.
As the night wore on I became increasingly restless, wondering when Maryann was going to put my sisters to bed. Though I knew it was mainly wishful thinking, I imagined all kinds of things would happen when we two were left alone.
While my eyes were open and I was supposedly watching television I was really dreaming with my eyes open, envisioning my hands roaming over the hills and valleys of Maryann's body, and almost feeling her hot little hands pulling on my dong.
But it seemed as though my sisters were going to stay up all night. Time undoubtedly flowed at its usual pace, but to me it seemed that each minute became an hour in my impatience to get at Maryann.
Finally the time came when my sisters were put to bed. Maryann came back into the room where I was watching TV and quietly sat beside me. My tense body felt like it was burning up. Maryann was sitting so close to me I could almost hear her heart beat.
Did she know what I was thinking? Was she thinking the same things, having the same erotic fantasies I was having? I was dying to know, but didn't know how to go about finding out.
Pretending to yawn, I stretched out my arms and put one of them behind Maryann, letting it rest on the couch without daring to touch her. She surprised me by squirming close to me, and pressing her thigh up against mine, making me quiver at the seething contact of her warm flesh.
Was it possible? Was she as anxious as I was to unite our adolescent bodies in the act of love?
I put my hand tentatively on her shoulder, feeling the heat of her flesh beneath her thin cotton blouse, and pulled her closer to me. She did not protest as I opened the first act of this scene of seduction.
She tilted her head back and flashed me a shy, sweet smile. I tried to smile back, but the muscles of my face seemed paralyzed, incapable of responding to the open invitation of her smile.
Without warning I ducked my head down and roughly pressed my lips to hers. She opened her mouth and my tongue slid inside as naturally and smoothly as a hand slipping inside a glove.
I couldn't believe it: she was allowing me to French-kiss her, and I knew a girl didn't do that unless she was prepared to go all the way.
Clutching her tightly in my left hand I brought up my right and grabbed her breast. It was firm, yet yielding to my touch, and just the thought that she had let me go this far without stopping me, drove me crazy with desire.
I squeezed her boobs relentlessly, frantically clutching at them in my frenzy as if they were unfeeling rubber balls rather than the tender, sensitive flesh they were.
With trembling fingers I unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and slid my fingers down into the cup of her bra, determinedly stretching the elastic until my whole hand fit inside and I could feel her nipple sticking into my palm.
My joint was pulsing in my pants like crazy, a hard steel rod bouncing up and down on the taut springs of my lust.
I was so grateful to Maryann for not repulsing me that I stuck my tongue far down in her throat, almost choking her.
I felt this was much too good to be true. Maryann had let me goso far; would she let me go even further? What would she do if I put my hand up her dress?
I continued to massage her breast, all the while trying to get the courage to caress her pussy instead.
I disentangled my hand from her bra and slowly inched it down her soft flat belly, expecting to be stopped at any moment. But Maryann continued her passionate kisses, making no move to arrest my questing hand in its downward spiral.
After what seemed like ages I put my hand on her knee and rubbed upwards along her thigh until my hand was up her dress. I moaned and stirred on the couch as I felt the soft cool expanse of her wide thighs.
I touched the soft bulge of her love-bush beneath her panties and almost cried out in my excitement as I realized I was actually feeling this concealed patch of hair and not just imagining it.
I rubbed the groove of her pussy beneath those thin panties. In answer, Maryann made me almost shoot my load right then and there by putting her hand on my crotch and softly caressing the growing bulge in my pants. I groaned and squirmed beneath her hand which seemed to be burning a hole in my pants.
I could feel Maryann's box already wet beneath her panties. I slipped my hand inside and the tips of my fingers tingled as they touched the wiry tangle of her beaver. My finger dipped down and found the moist cleft of her pussy, and I moved it around in her little slit, my finger warm and wet from her flowing cunt juices.
I shoved my finger in and out of her slippery cunt while she squeezed my stiff pecker and I felt excited beyond my wildest dreams. I didn't care if we remained like this forever, diddling each other and feeling so good; I had already found the paradise I had so long sought.
But I knew we couldn't stay like this, no matter how good it felt. I wanted to get my rocks off inside this young nubile maiden. I wanted to feel my dick throb and pulse in her young cunt.
I withdrew my mouth from hers and stuck my tongue in her ear, having read somewhere that this was a sure way to arouse a young girl and able at last to put my theories to the test. I was rewarded by the feeling of her shuddering in my arm.
"Let's go to my room," I whispered in a cracked, hoarse voice I scarcely recognized.
She opened her eyes and looked at me sleepily. She rapidly nodded her head.
I helped her to her feet and felt my cock stick out before me like some weird tubular animal that had a life of its own.
We quietly tiptoed past my sisters' room and walked to the back of the apartment where I had my own room. My legs felt weak and watery beneath me. They were shaking so much I didn't think I would make it.
When we got to my room I silently closed the door and laid Maryann on the bed without turning on the light. I climbed on top of her and fit my body to hers, my stiff prong prodding between her legs.
I pressed my hips down on hers and dry-fucked her until I couldn't stand it anymore.
I slipped the blouse from her shoulders and reached beneath her to unhook her bra, but I was so nervous that my hands kept slipping. It took forever to unfasten the damned thing. Finally, my fumbling came to an end and I slid the bra straps down her arms.
Oh, golly, I wish I could express how I felt just then, with those soft pouting mounds of pink flesh bared to my lustful gaze. I had never believed there were such succulent titties in the world, and here they were for me to dispose of as I wished.
I pressed my leg between her thighs, rubbing my still-hidden cock raw against her firm flesh, while I buried my face in her tender breasts, deliriously sucking on those luscious globes, raking the pert pointed nipples with the edge of my teeth.
Though I was hot as hell my blood seemed to have turned to ice water. I had never felt like that before, like I was feverish and half-delirious.
I reached down and unzipped my fly. I took Maryann's hand and guided it to my cock which swung free from my pants. I groaned when I felt her fingers close around it and give it a loving squeeze.
I thrust forward in her hand, her tightened fingers smoothing out the wrinkled skin of my shaft and stretching the skin downwards, making my dick stand tall and smooth in her fist.
I had never felt a girl's hand on my pecker before and it excited me even more than sucking on her tasty breasts. To feel a young girl's hand on your cock while feeling her up is like no other pleasure in the world. Her soft palm cradling your sensitive cunt-sticker feels almost as good as being inside her.
I unhooked Maryann's skirt and rose up on my knees as I drew it down over her thighs. Then with nervous fingers I grasped the top of her panties and rolled them down her legs.
Her eyes were closed. I ran my hands over her nude glistening body, my fervid fingers tracing the outline of her sensuous curves. I wanted to enjoy that moment forever, having a naked young cunt in my bed who was completely at my mercy and who would let me do anything I wanted with her.
I got up off the bed and began stripping my clothes from my perspiring body. I opened the dresser drawer and rummaged beneath a pile of shirts until I felt the crackle of cellophane covering my pack of rubbers. I tore one from the pack and ripped it open.
I had never used one of these things before, except to try it out when masturbating, and, to tell the truth, I wasn't at all sure that the rubber would stay fastened to my cock once I started screwing.
To show you how innocent I was I thought that this flat membrane was just supposed to cover the knob of my prick-I didn't even know that this thin rubber sphere unrolled and was intended to cover the whole shaft. That's how dumb I was.
I had never seen anyone use these things before, and no one had ever told me how they worked, so I was surprised the first time I had tried one on and found that it barely covered my cock-head. I never even thought to stretch it the length of my swollen tool.
With my back to Maryann I stretched the rubber just enough for it to fit snugly over my red meaty knob. I went back to the bed where Maryann was so wantonly lying, her beautiful legs stretched out and her arms flung out on either side of her. I gathered her up in my arms and reached for her pussy.
From what I had heard you weren't supposed to use a rubber unless it was thoroughly oiled and could easily slip inside the girl's hole, so I liberally smeared my fingers with Maryann's vaginal oils, then greased the rubbered head of my dick.
I wasted little time on foreplay. We had already gone through that, and I knew-Maryann was as ready as she would ever be. As for me, I was so heated up that I would've shoved my cock into just about any hole I could find.
I spread Maryann's legs and raised up on my knees. With cock in hand I slowly penetrated her.
Maryann had a tight little pussy and I had to sweat and grunt my way inside her inch by inch. She raised up on her ass to help me along, and soon I could feel my whole shaft sunk in her creamy pussy.
I had never felt anything even remotely like what I felt then, deep inside Maryann. My cock felt like it was immersed in a hot bath, gently laved by warm currents of water. Each time I thrust inside her it felt like a thin skewer of flame was being injected into my peehole and deep down my cock.
The virginal walls of Maryann's pussy gradually stretched and accommodated me until her pussy fit around my probing cock like an extra layer of skin. No longer able to exercise her as if I were possessed by a fornicating devil.
Outside of the fact that I didn't seem to be causing Maryann any pain I was pretty sure she wasn't a virgin from the way she responded to me. She moved that pretty little ass up and down on that bed as if she were fucking a pogo stick that sprang back up each time it hit the ground. We were doing a lively two-step of love as she matched her rhythm to mine and fucked me back as tenaciously as I was fucking her.
She grabbed me around the waist and seemed to guide my movements with an expert hand as I plunged in and out of her. Her tongue darted in and out of my mouth with a will of its own. She nibbled at my lips, then fastened her mouth on my shoulder, sucking on it until the flesh was crawling.
My first real piece of ass, and I was in heaven. I heard angels singing in my hot loins, divine harpists plucking their strings in my seething scrotum, my quivering, sweating, straining body wafted upward on the ineffable harmonies of the stratosphere.
These heavenly images were suddenly shattered by an unexpected event: I felt the rubber slip off the head of my cock inside Maryann's womb. Dammit, I knew that would happen! How did the blankety-blank manufacturers expect such a little thing to stay on in the rough and tumble of love anyway?
What was I to do? Continue fucking this beautiful little piece and pretend nothing had happened? I didn't want her to get pregnant, which was why I had put that damned rubber on in the first place.
There was nothing for it but to stick my fingers up her pussy and retrieve the rubber which was floating free deep inside her womb.
Without taking my peter out of her I drew back slightly and stuck my fingers up into her, but I couldn't feel that shitassed rubber. I grunted and strained with the effort to retrieve it.
Finally my fingertips came into contact with it, but it was hard to hold onto because it was so slippery in there, and the rubber was soaked in Maryann's pussy-juices.
I slowly tugged at it and managed to get a firm grip on it. Then, without taking my prick completely out of Maryann, I fitted the rubber back on my cockhead with one hand.
By this time I knew that sonofabitching rubber wasn't going to prevent Maryann from getting pregnant, but I tried to convince myself that it would. Maryann hadn't said anything while this sea-dredging operation was going on, and I hoped she thought I just wanted to play with her pussy while fucking her at the same time.
I put the rubber out of my mind as I went back to humping Maryann with a will. I couldn't give up now, rubber or no rubber. I was too close to climax.
I came almost immediately afterwards. My prick burred inside Maryann as my seed gushed forth and hosed down the inside of her cunt. I felt not that something was going out of me, but that I was being filled with a magical substance that suffused my body with a deep, tingling glow.
At that time I wasn't even concerned with whether Maryann came or not. I don't think I even knew girls came. The object of fucking, as far as I was concerned, was for the man to get his rocks off, period. Since I had just gotten mine off I started to pull out of her, but just before I pulled out completely I realized that fucking rubber had come off again.
I had to go through the same fumbling procedure to retrieve it, and I felt slightly disgusted as my fingers groped around in a pool of my own come.
I managed to get it back on the head of my dick before Maryann would notice it had come off. Then, holding my cock in my hand so the slippery rubber wouldn't fall off, I went to the bathroom and flushed that treacherous scumbag down the toilet.
When I came back I started getting dressed immediately. I felt ashamed and guilty because of the rubber and I was praying that Maryann wouldn't get pregnant.
But luckily, Maryann didn't notice anything, nor did she ask for an explanation for my strange behavior.
"Dan," she asked, dreamily sitting up in bed, my come pouring out of her cunt and wetting my bed.
"Yes?"
"Can we do this again sometime?" she asked shyly. "I like to do it with you."
"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, though at that point I never wanted to see Maryann again. I didn't even want to know about it if she became pregnant through my stupidity.
But wouldn't you know it? Two months later Maryann and her mother showed up at my door to inform my mother that I had impregnated Maryann.
Isn't that one for the storybooks? My first piece of ass and I had to go and knock her up.
What an innocent I had been. To think I didn't even know enough to unroll that flat rubber so that it covered my whole prick!
Jeanie had shown me a new world. The other women I had had were horsemeat compared to her steak. From that moment on, I decided that I would "eat well."
Jeanie was one of a kind. I think I knew that. It would be very difficult, I felt, to find another like her, especially on a university campus. The college crowds felt and experienced things through the mind. I needed a woman who, like Jeanie, lived life through her senses.
I began slumming, frequently the gaudy bars in the northern, run-down section of the city.
My favorite was "The Dark Hole," a slum bar a short bus ride away from my living quarters. It was here that I found the people I longed to be with; people who would come into the bar each night to drink themselves into oblivion in an attempt to forget their meaningless existences. It was in The Dark Hole that I met Vicky James. She was to change my life.
CHAPTER TWO
Jeanie Jones had carried me to a peak of ecstasy previously unknown. I did not want to come down. I looked forward to our next encounter with an enthusiasm that surprised even myself.
I was stiff the moment she walked through the doorway. I stepped behind the lectern and thrust my hand into my pants as Jeanie strode down the aisle and lowered herself into her seat. I was oblivious to everyone else in the classroom. All my concentration was centered on Jeanie, waiting for her to lean back, spread her legs, and afford me one more glimpse of that glorious, damp hole.
I waited, but nothing happened. On this day she was wearing a loose cotton blouse and slacks. I looked at her, pleading with my eyes, but she was staring past me at the blackboard. The tension was too much for me; I squeezed my organ, and ejaculated into my pants. Only after I had done this, was I able to continue with the lesson.
I was never able to discover what had made Jeanie change. Perhaps she allowed herself only one "introduction" to each new professor.
I don't know whether she worked. Later, someone told me that she worked part time as a receptionist in a restaurant. In any case, she seemed to live in the bar. At least she was always there when I walked in.
She was beautiful, in an earthy way. She was, by far, the most attractive woman in the room. Perhaps it was this fact that made it so difficult for me to approach her. Somewhat shy and introspective, I was not used to approaching women in bars, especially when my penis was swollen to monstrous proportions by desire.
Thus, all I could do was to sit on one side of the circular bar and stare at her longingly. She was always dressed well, and I suspected a great many men gave her money, although I did not believe she was a prostitute. She always wore black stockings that clung sensually to her shapely ankles and calves. Occasionally she would walk past me on her way to the juke box, and I would close my eyes, delighting in the silken rustle of her thighs as she passed. At these moments, I would have sold my soul for just one chance to sink to my knees before her, parting her lips with my hands, running my cheek over her stockinged legs, finally to pull down her panties (which, for some reason, I knew had to be red) and bury my mouth and tongue in her vagina. Often, during these moments of reverie, I would find that I had stained my pants and would have to sit very close to the bar in order to hide my indiscretion.
She had many sweaters, and each one was of the finest cashmere, clinging to and emphasizing the beautiful, oversize breasts protruding from her chest like two ripe cantaloupes waiting to be squeezed and plucked. Her buttocks were beautifully rounded, and I knew that I would be perfectly content to enter her from the rear, for surely her anus must be tight and sweet as her vagina.
Her features were all finely chiseled, her complexion rosy, needing little make-up. In the dim light of the bar, alcohol bubbling through my system, she looked like a goddess.
And-again like a goddess-she could not be approached. At least I did not dare approach her, and I noticed that the other single men in the bar likewise remained aloof, although they stared hungrily at her as I did.
Still, she always had a drink in front of her, despite the fact that she never seemed to pay. I watched closely as the bartender refilled her glass, and I could see that she was drinking an expensive brand of wine. It occurred to me that someone else ... or perhaps all the men in the bar were buying her drinks. Did she think I was unforgivably impolite for not buying her one myself? The thought tore at me like a knife blade. Summoning all my courage, I motioned to the bartender.
"I'd like to buy the lady a drink," I said, aware that my voice was trembling. "Put it on my bill."
The bartender took his hand away from my glass and looked down toward the other end of the bar. "You want to buy Vicky a drink?" He seemed incredulous, as if he could not believe my words.
I felt a twinge of anger, and wondered if the bartender thought I was unworthy of the honor.
"What's the matter? Isn't my money any good?" I tried to appear tough, the way I had seen it done in the movies. But I just didn't fit the image; I had 'College Professor' written all over me.
The bartender looked again at the girl. She nodded almost imperceptibly ... still without looking at me. The bartender turned back and brought her wine bottle down from the special section where he kept it. "Pal," he said, "your money's fine here. I just hope you know what you're doing."
It seemed a strange thing for him to say. However, all of my attention was centered on the girl as the bartender poured her a full measure of wine. Very slowly, she lifted her glass and, for the first time, looked into my eyes. She smiled broadly, puckered her lips, and drew them over the edge of the glass in a manner that served to blind me with desire. Then she lifted the glass and swallowed down the wine. I hurriedly signaled the bartender. He started to come back, then stopped in his tracks, staring over my shoulder. His eyes were very wide.
I started to turn around to see what he was gaping at when a very large, very strong hand wrapped itself around the entire circumference of my upper arm and lifted me up out of my seat.
I dangled there in the air, slowly swinging around into a position where I could see my captor.
He was an enormously big man, with eyes that were set into his fleshy face like black marbles. His skin had a yellowish pallor and his teeth were rotting, so that I could smell the terrible odor of his breath. There was no trace of mercy or even humanity in his expression, and I believed he was quite capable of killing a man. I squirmed, trying to break free. His grip was like iron.
"Whaddya think you're doin'?" he growled. "What's the idea of tryin' to buy Vicky a drink?"
I felt anger and hysteria growing in me. "I not only tried," I said, "I did."
The big man looked down along the bar toward Vicky. Something flickered in his eyes, bringing them new life. It took me a long moment to realize that the light was jealousy. That meant Vicky might also be in trouble for allowing me to buy her the drink. I was tortured by that possibility. I had yet to talk with her. Still, I felt without doubt that I would gladly lay down my life for her, if need be.
"Now look," I said, trying to meet his eyes, "this is a free country. If I want to buy a drink for a lady, there's...."
His huge hand slammed across my face, rattling my teeth, almost causing me to swallow my tongue. I could not see out of my left eye.
"Nobody buys my girl a drink," he said, raising his fist.
It was then I knew the man thoroughly intended to kill me. And there was no telling what he would do to the girl when he finished me off.
"Hey, Roscoe, c'mon now! Lay off!" It was the bartender. He was leaning across the counter, reaching toward my captor.
Roscoe shook him off like a fly, then brought his fist crashing into me. I doubled up, retching and gasping for air.
I saw the fist coming up, and tried to twist out of the way. I was only partially successful; the huge mound of bony flesh caught me on the side of the face, its force hurling me into the air, over the bar. I crashed into a row of bottles.
My head was swimming. Somewhere I could hear Vicky scream. Then the light on the ceiling was blocked out as the huge form of Roscoe leaped over the bar and came crashing down on me.
His hands were around my throat, and all the colors in the bar were turning to shades of grey. Still, all I could think of was the horrible image of the ape-man, Roscoe, sinking his gigantic shaft into Vicky's soft body. Surely, I thought, she must writhe and scream under his caress; she was his prisoner, and he did with her what he wanted. My death would do her no good; when he had finished with me, he would go after her.
I fumbled behind my head and my hand closed around the neck of a bottle. It felt heavy and full. I grasped it and, with my last remaining strength, brought it crashing down on the man's skull. He groaned, and his grip loosened. I sucked air into my tortured lungs ... but for only a moment. The grip was tightening again.
My life was beginning to pass before my eyes when a shadowy figure appeared just above Roscoe's shoulder. I could not make out the details, but I knew it was Vicky. She was handing me a huge, two-quart bottle. I took it and once again, brought the object down on the man's head. This time the bottle did not break. Still he hung on. I hit him again and again until, like a beached whale, he arched and rolled over onto his side.
I sat up, clutching at my throat, unable to get enough air into my lungs. Everything was spinning. Suddenly, I found myself dropping into a dark well that had no bottom.
I woke to the sensation of a woman's lips on my forehead. I opened my eyes and recognized the interior of The Dark Hole. I felt as if I had been out for hours. Actually, it was only minutes. Roscoe was still unconscious beside me. I tensed and reached for a bottle. Vicky's hand grasped mine.
"It's all right," she said, in a voice that was like a cool, soothing breeze across my tortured mind. "You've beaten him. He'll never bother you, or me, again."
"That was some fight you put up, buddy." It was the bartender. His face was aglow with admiration. I felt pride stir in my chest. I leaned closer to Vicky's arm.
Her perfume wafted into my nostrils and, despite my weakened condition, I could feel my desire well up. She must have seen it. She helped me to my feet, and stood in front of me to save me from embarrassment.
"Thank you," she said, looking into my eyes, running her tongue over her lips. "I've never seen anyone handle Roscoe like that."
Her scent and her closeness were making me dizzy again.
"Was he your ... boyfriend?" The word stuck in my throat and I had to force it out.
"Not really," she whispered, her eyes cast down. "I hated him. But he wouldn't let anyone else get close to me."
I was beginning to feel bolder. Obviously, I had become the hero of the evening. "I know your first name is Vicky," I said. "What's the rest?"
She leaned close to me and I could feel her breast brush against my arm. I felt a thrill run through my body.
"Vicky James," she said, rubbing her breasts into my arm. "Who are you?"
"Uh, Dan Walters," I said. For a moment, I had forgotten my name. "I'm a professor at the college."
"Oh, how cute!" Her voice rang like that of a little girl. Despite her obvious experience, there was an almost child-like innocence about her that was very appealing. "I've never met a college professor before!"
I stood there, feeling slightly foolish. Vicky still had her hand (and her breast) on my arm. She was looking up into my eyes adoringly. We were surrounded by a group of people who were obviously astounded at the fact that I had beaten Roscoe.
"Let's dance," Vicky said, tugging at my arm.
Her words broke the trance around us, and soon everyone had returned to normal activity. I followed Vicky to the tiny dance floor at the rear of the bar. As we made our way through, other couples squeezed together to give us room.
Vicky immediately flung her arms around my shoulders and came in close to me, burying her lips on my neck. Startled, I jumped. Still, she held tight, and soon I was swaying back and forth in time to the music. But my mind was on Vicky's body.
She had thrust her body against mine and I imagined I could feel her taut nipples working their way through her bra and sweater into my chest. It was a delightful sensation, the small, hard buttons floating in a sea of soft flesh, rubbing and flowing against me. As if able to read my thoughts, Vicky moved the upper half of her body back and forth.
At the same time, she spread her legs slightly and thrust her hips forward so that the soft flesh of her sex was right up against my stiff organ which throbbed like living steel. I moved myself forward and could almost feel the lips of her vagina part. She did not back away.
I dropped my hand to her buttocks and squeezed. She wriggled beneath my touch. I moved my hands over her thighs and felt the elastic of her garters. That thrilled me and I moved my hand back and forth, imagining the soft flesh at the top of her stockings. Last, I moved my hand around in front. She moved slightly backward, allowing my fingers to slip between our bodies. Then she moved forward again, pushing and rubbing herself against my hand.
"It feels good," Vicky said. "Don't stop."
I don't think I could have stopped, even if I'd wanted to. I pressed harder and harder, feeling the silky pubic hair behind the fabric of her skirt, the opening and closing of her sex.
She turned her face toward mine and moistened her lips with her tongue. Gladly, I accepted this silent invitation and brought my mouth down on hers.
It took me a moment to realize that her hand was inside my pants, stroking my belly. I shivered. My entire body was flooded with a myriad of sensations. I was afraid I would pass out from pleasure. I hung on to her, pushing even harder with my hand, rubbing her crotch with my middle finger.
Finally, she thrust her hand down to my rigid penis. She circled it with her fingers and moved the skin back and forth. I could feel a river building and churning inside my loins. Somehow, I controlled it, and held it back. I did not want these sensations to end, ever.
"I want you," Vicky whispered into my ear. "I want you now. I can't wait any longer."
I glanced around me. No one was watching us; still it seemed un-likely to make love in this place. "Where?" I said, my voice rasping with uncontrolled passion.
"In the alley," Vicky said, releasing my penis and pulling me toward a small door to our left.
We moved through the door and found ourselves in the close, warm darkness behind the bar.
I grabbed her from behind, circling her body with my arms and bringing my hands up to cup her breasts. She moaned and thrust her buttocks back and up into my crotch. I dry-humped her, all the time squeezing and stroking her breasts.
Finally, still rotating her buttocks, she lifted her sweater and thrust my hand beneath it. I shoved my fingers into her bra, just as she reached behind her back and unsnapped it. The soft flesh of her body fell into my hands. The nipples moved back and forth between my fingers. I pulled at them, rubbing them between my fingertips.
Not to be outdone by my passion, Vicky already had my fly unzipped. One tug at my belt and my trousers fell down around my ankles. Skillfully, she worked my shorts down, and reaching behind her, took my penis in one hand and my swollen testicles in the other. She squeezed them together, pulled and stroked them. It was all I could do to keep my semen bottled up. I was not ready to come; not yet.
In the meantime, I had reached down and pulled her skirt up. I played for a few minutes with her garters, and then thrust my hand down into the silky prison of her panties. Her vagina was there, all warm and wet and open, as if it had been waiting for me. It swallowed up one finger. I inserted two more, then finally my hand up to the third knuckle. Vicky moaned and pulled harder at my penis. With her other hand, she pushed at my elbow, as if wanting to drive me even deeper into her.
I could stand the pressure no longer. I tensed and felt my body jerk three times. Desire shot out of me like a stream of a fire hose, staining her buttocks. She moaned and rubbed her hand over my wet penis, moistening her own fingers, then shoving them into herself.
I thought I was finished. I sighed deeply and waited for Vicky to release me. She didn't.
Instead, she turned, still holding my aching flesh in her hand, and smiled up into my face.
"It was wonderful," Vicky murmured and again I was struck by how child-like she seemed. On the one hand, she was as hard as nails-anyone who would handle Roscoe had to be. Still, she was open and vulnerable. She fascinated me even more than Jeanie Jones.
"Did I satisfy you?"
"Not yet," she said, but the smile skittering around the edges of her mouth softened the blow to my pride. "And I have a few more tricks to show you. You'll see."
Her hand was beginning a gentle, stroking motion and I felt myself growing hard. Suddenly she stepped back, grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it up to her waist. At the same time, she reached down, pulled her panties to the ground and stepped out of them. She was fully exposed to my gaze, her silken pubic hair damp, glistening with the juices of her love.
I reached out to touch. She laughed and jumped out of my reach. For a moment, I was confused. Then I saw that she was leaning back against the top of a discarded table. My breath caught as she gave a little backward leap and landed on the table, her legs spread.
I lunged forward like a starving man to a banquet. Just as I had imagined in my dreams, I bent over and rubbed my cheek back and forth against and between her stockinged thighs. She wriggled beneath me. Finally, her hand came down and gently pressed insistently at the back of my head, pushing me up into her. With a low moan of pleasure, I touched her vagina with my tongue. Vicky squealed with delight. Still using my tongue, I parted the fine hairs from her vaginal entrance. Her sex was pink, wet, and throbbing. I took one of the lips into my mouth and sucked at it. I could feel Vicky's fingernails digging into the back of my neck. I sucked even harder.
Soon I had both her lips in my mouth and was working at them while, at the same time, I ran my tongue up and down the tender groove between them. Vicky shoved her hips forward and I suddenly found myself buried in her. Desperately, I put my hands around her body and under her buttocks, elevating her hips, lapping up and down with my tongue. I could feel her muscles tightening around me. I found the hard clit and took it into my mouth, teasing it. Vicky moaned and I suddenly found my mouth filled with fluid. It flowed from the walls of her vagina, down over my chin and onto the surface of the table on which she was sitting. I stood up, panting from loss of breath.
"Now I'll give you a ride," Vicky said breathlessly.
She jumped down from the table, and putting her hands on my waist, helped me up. In an instant, she had placed her palms on my thighs and was hovering over my swollen, hot rod which was laying back against my belly. Her tongue came out and licked up and down the soft under-surface, lingering on my testicles. I had never known such sexual excitement.
With one hand, she took my organ by its root and straightened it up.. Her tongue flicked out across the sensitive tip. Every nerve in my body was on fire. Slowly, moving her tongue and lips in such a way that I felt I was conscious of every nerve ending in my genitals, she came down on it, letting its length disappear into her mouth.
She moved steadily back and forth, up and down on me, at the same time sucking and wrapping her tongue around my rod. Somehow, she was able to take all of me into her without gagging. My hips thrust back and forth, completely out of control. I looked down and could see her soft, red lips forming a seal around my flesh. I could hold myself in no longer. I ejaculated in great, shooting spurts.
Vicky swallowed a couple of times but did not take her mouth away from my flesh until I was completely spent.
The moon had finally come from behind its cloud covers and her face was bathed in its light and softened by it. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
"Do you love me?"
I was momentarily taken aback by the question. After all, I had only met her little more than an hour ago. Her eyes bored into mine, holding me captive.
"Yes," I said quickly, amazed to find that it was true. Vicky had completely captured my emotions.
"Will you do anything I say?"
"I suppose so," I answered. I felt strange and I wondered if Vicky had captured my soul as well. The thought frightened me, but did not make me feel any less strongly about her. The only other woman I had ever loved with a fervor even approaching this had been a woman by the name of Barbara Tanner. And she was far away, distant in my mind like a childhood memory.
"There's a party tomorrow night," Vicky said. "Will you take me?"
"I have a night class," I said. I suddenly felt short of breath.
Vicky's lips puckered into a pout. But her eyes were hard. "You said you'd do anything I told you."
"Well, I suppose I could call off class for one night."
"Oh, good!" Once again she was like a child. As we headed back inside the bar, I wondered why the night suddenly felt cold.
CHAPTER THREE
The next day I was so excited that I could hardly get through classes. I gave mistaken answers and suffered from lapses of memory. When it was all over, I threw my briefcase into a corner of my apartment, then showered and dressed. I knew I should attend my night class and also go over papers. But I was too excited to entertain such a possibility. I finished dressing and hurried out into the night.
The bar was dark. For a moment, I thought Vicky had played a joke on me. If The Dark Hole was closed, why had she arranged to meet me here? I stood on the sidewalk, staring disconsolately at the neon sign, then turned to go.
"Daniel!"
It was a loud whisper. I turned and saw Vicky leaning out of a second floor window. Somehow, she looked different. Her hair, free and flowing the previous night, was now drawn tightly around her head. Her blouse looked as though it were made of leather and even from where I stood, I could see its slit down the middle, where her ample breasts swelled in toward the center.
"The party's up here," she said, glancing furtively up and down the street to make sure no one watched or listened. I began to wonder what kind of a party this was going to be. "Go around to the back. The door's open."
I went around and tried the door. It opened, just as Vicky had said.
I made my way up a very dark stairway. At the top, I pushed at another door. It swung open. I stepped into a chaotic world of ear-piercing music and psychedelic lights. Momentarily, I stood blinded. When my sight returned, Vicky was standing in front of me.
"Welcome to The Dark Hole after hours," she said, smiling thinly. She looked colder tonight, crueler. I found her even more exciting.
Now I saw that she was dressed entirely in leather, except for her black, ribbed stockings. Her skirt was very short. It made no effort to conceal the tops of her stockings or the leather garters that held them up.
In fact, as I looked around, I could see that most of the party goers were dressed in some bizarre fashion. Standing in one corner lurked a huge man. Even bigger than Roscoe. His eyes were very dull, and he seemed more ape than man. He stared straight ahead. I saw a huge bulge in the crotch of his black tights and I winced at the thought of that out-sized organ being forced into anyone.
"Come with me," Vicky commanded. "You were almost too late."
I started to ask what I was late for, but she was already walking ahead of me. She paused only to stroke the giant's arm, as one might do with a pet, then led me on. We walked through a low doorway slung with curtains. Then I found myself in a large room. A spotlight beamed down from the ceiling onto the center of the floor, bathing the bare wood in a ghostly white light. The rest of the room was strewn with oversized pillows, reminding me of pictures I had seen of palaces prepared for Roman orgies. My pulse quickened. I could feel the music inside my skull, beating at my senses. The flickering of lights tugged at my nerve endings. A painful sensation, yet somehow pleasant.
"Sit down," Vicky repeated strongly.
I sat down on one of the pillows at the very edge of the circle of light. Vicky lowered herself beside me, but did not look around. Her gaze was riveted on a small, curtained doorway at the other side of the room.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A spotlight swung to the curtained doorway and a woman emerged. She looked young, maybe nineteen or twenty, with a full, ripe body. Dressed from head to toe in Victorian costume, she dragged voluminous skirts after her as she walked down the small path. Intently I studied her full, sensual mouth and the sculptured cheekbones. Her dark eyes smouldered. I wondered if she were high. She carried a magnum of champagne in one hand, a low stool in the other.
The woman looked to neither left nor right. She reached the middle of the floor, and set down the stool. Then she held the large bottle of champagne above her head, as though making some sort of sacrificial gesture to a god of lust. She brought the bottie down again and, with one swift motion of wrist and fingers, uncorked it. The cork came out with a loud pop, and flew to the ceiling. I felt the spray of liquid on my arms and face.
The young girl raised the bottle to her lips. She took long, deep swallows of the sparkling liquid. Her chest and stomach heaved with her motions. Next, she took the opened bottle and set it on the stool, running the tips of her fingers over its smooth top. I held my breath. A sudden hush came over the room, as if everyone had drawn in their breath simultaneously.
With her gaze still fastened on the bottle, the girl walked around behind it. Then, in a single swift motion, she lifted the multitude of skirts to her waist.
I could see that she wore no pants. Her pubic triangle glistened damply with passion. My penis began to swell inside my pants. I shifted my legs to give it more room.
As I watched, the girl spread her legs slightly and walked forward until she straddled the stool. Then she dropped her skirt and slowly sank downward.
At first, she grimaced in pain. The grimace slowly smoothed out into a dreamy smile of delight. She began to rock slowly back and forth, balancing on the balls of her feet, occasionally rising up on her toes; rising and falling.
The pressure and heat was building in my loins. I reached for my fly but Vicky's hand was already there. With one swift motion, she unzipped my fly and grasped my penis. She moved the skin up and down in steady motion, stopping only to slide her hand further toward the root to caress my testicles.
I ran my hand along her leg, past the tops of her stockings and the leather garters. I hooked one finger into the black silk panties and tore the material from her body before burying my index and middle fingers in her vagina. Vicky groaned. She began moving her hips in a rhythmic motion.
The girl in the center of the floor slowly undressed. She had already unbuttoned her blouse. Now she pulled it from her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor. She wore an old-fashioned corset which she now proceeded to unlace. In a moment, the last loop came undone. She removed the corset and pulled down the sheer nylon slip she wore beneath. She was naked to the waist.
Her breasts were much larger than I had expected when they had been hidden beneath the bulk of her clothing. Freed of their restraint, the mounds of flesh bobbled about as the girl moved, as if pleased to be released from their bonds. The nipples were very large and pink with the flush of youth. The girl seized her two jiggling breasts and squeezed them hard, then took a nipple in each hand and began pulling back and forth, up and down. The smile on her face grew bigger. Her eyelids drooped. I saw that her eyes were rolled back up inside her head. Her mouth hung open and she gave out a series of low, animal growls while her hands continued to manipulate her breasts, making them move and jump and twist.
A woman approached the girl and bent over. She took one breast in her hand, shoved the nipple and as much of the flesh as possible into her mouth. Her head moved rapidly back and forth. I heard the sucking noises she made with her mouth.
My back arched. I looked down in time to see my penis twitch and send a smooth arc of jism into the air to land three feet away. The rest dribbled down over Vicky's fingers. She paid no attention to it. In fact, I was surprised to discover that I felt only a small lessening of excitement. In spite of the fact that I had let go a large load, I was still at high pitch. My organ softened slightly. Vicky reached down. She tickled me beneath the testicles. I stiffened immediately. My own hand, buried in the softness of her crotch, was wet along the forearm. Smeared with the fluids of her body. Her legs spread far apart. Her knees were drawn slightly up. Her feet, planted flat on the floor, gave her greater leverage as she rocked, forcing my hand deeper into her body. I turned my attention back to the couple in the spotlight.
Holding the younger girl's breast in her mouth solely by the pressure of her lips, the woman fumbled with the catches in the folds of the younger girl's skirts. In a moment she had them undone. Then stripped away. The woman stepped back. I gaped and gasped.
The neck of the bottle had penetrated her supple body. The shaking motion of her hips activated the champagne. It bubbled and frothed inside the glass, streaming upward into her. She strained her legs even further apart, trying to force the taut lips of her vagina down over the wide part of the magnum. I estimated the bottle to be five or six inches inside her. Surely, I thought, its mouth must be close to her womb.
Then it was done. With a loud, sucking sound, her vagina widened. The woman sank down and ground her knuckles into the girl's open mouth to keep from screaming.
Now the woman lay down on her back. She crawled to position, her head beneath the stool. Opening her mouth, she drank in the stream of wine and passion juice that flowed from the girl's distended orifice.
A third woman rose from the floor. She approached the stool and lay down on top of the second woman. In one swift motion, her head dived beneath the woman's skirt. Her mouth moving up and down on the woman's sex.
I groaned and came twice in quick succession. The room suddenly went dark. When the lights came on again, the three women were gone.
My lungs were aching. I leaned back on the floor and sucked in cool air that flowed from a huge air conditioning unit just above my head. Somehow, Vicky had hold of a wet cloth. She sponged my genitals which had become caked with dry semen.
"Her name's Betty," Vicky said, in response to my silent question. "You can meet her later, if you want. But it won't do you much good. She does that all the time. Prefers a bottle to the real thing." Vicky paused. I searched her face, and decided that she did, indeed, look crueler than she had the previous night. "Almost everybody who comes to The Dark Hole has some kind of hang-up."
"What's yours?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she bent over and blew into my ear. "Why do you waste all your time up in those stuffy buildings?"
"I told you," I said. "I teach."
"Teach what?"
"Biology. Some zoology. The study of living things."
She laughed. It was a short, hard laugh, that grated on my senses. "I can teach you more about living things in one night than you can learn in ten years at the university."
"It's a different thing," I replied defensively.
"Why? I mean, what's the sense of learning all that stuff?"
"To be educated," I said.
Suddenly, it didn't seem enough. I wondered why I suddenly felt so uneasy. I looked around me, seeking for a way to change the subject. Although the make-shift stage was bare, no one else had moved. There were several other women cleaning their boyfriends.
"This," Vicky said, running her hands down over her body, "this is the only thing worth learning about. And you don't have to go to any school,"
"There's more to life than just your body."
I did not sound too convincing. My own heated loins reminded me that the body had a very strong lesson to teach; and there were advanced courses. I was being put through one now.
"What?" Vicky said. "What is there in life besides your body? You're born ... and you die a very short time later. What is there in between? People are starving all over the world. People go on diets or give up smoking so they can live longer; next day they get run over by a car. Now you tell me; where's the sense in it? You have to live while you have a chance, and that's all there is to it. Anybody who does differently is a fool."
"But your mind," I said. "Don't you care anything about your mind?" She was challenging my whole system of values, everything that I had always held to be true. There had to be more to life than just sensation.
"The only thing your mind does that's worthwhile is carry and help you feel the sensations from your body," Vicky said determinedly. "After all, look at you. Yesterday you were no more than a stuffy college professor, afraid to come up and ask a woman to dance. Oh sure ... don't you think I knew you were looking at me all those nights? I can tell these things right off. So which is better, your school or mine? What have you ever learned that would give you pleasure? Am I right? You didn't even know what the word meant until you met me. You're going to school now. The only school that's worth the effort."
"A school of lust," I said softly.
"That's right," Vicky said, her eyes aglow. "All right, it's almost time for the second act to begin."
"Act?"
She put her fingers to her lips to quiet me. The lights dimmed again, except for the single, bright spotlight shining down in the center. At that moment it struck me that this was some kind of a show. I wondered how often Vicky and her friends gathered here to exhibit their perversions.
More important, what could I say to refute Vicky's argument for body over mind? My very presence in the room and the delightful sensations I was experiencing seemed to confirm the fact that one lesson in the school of lust was more powerful, longer lasting than a whole year of university courses. And one was always forgetting the academic lessons being taught. I knew I would never forget the lessons being taught to me this evening. Later in my life I would look back and marvel at how right I was.
But now, as Vicky knew, I could think of nothing save the pleasure vibrating through my body. I sank back onto my pillow and waited for the next act.
I didn't have long to wait. A very small girl, she could almost be described as tiny, wandered in through the doorway, and looked questioningly around her, as though she were lost.
Shorter than five feet, only a close examination of her face revealed that she was not a child, but a grown woman of twenty-five or so.
Still with a confused expression, she walked down the aisle and stopped in the center of the light beam. She was dressed in children's clothes; a white, frilly dress, white stockings, black patent leather shoes. Her hair hung down over her shoulders in ringlets. A large, red ribbon bobbed in her hair. She looked so alone and lost that, for a moment, I believed it to be true ... a lost child.
There was a sound behind me. I turned. At the same moment, I became aware of a tremendous figure bounding over my head. Suddenly the air was filled with a fetid odor, like many unwashed bodies ... or one very large one. Horror clutched at my throat. I slowly looked back to the center of the floor. My worst fears were realized. The huge ape man whom Vicky had patted stood in the center of the floor, hovering over the tiny woman. She trembled before his massive figure, but she made no move to escape.
My horror increased as I saw the giant tugging at the rope around his waist which served as a belt. Then it was loose.
His huge trousers fell to the floor. He turned half way and I saw a distended organ, huger than any I had ever seen, like a bull's. He began stalking the tiny woman. She crouched at the edge of the light, covering her head with her hands.
"Why doesn't someone do something?" I said, half rising to my feet.
Vicky grabbed my arm and tried to force me to sit down. When she despaired of this, she placed her hand on my penis which, once again, stood distended.
"You see," she said. "You're all excited. Why do you want to stop it?"
I was ashamed of my own perverted lust. Excited or not, I would not allow any woman to be raped by a beast like that. I told Vicky so, straining to break away from her hold. I had no idea of what I would do if I did manage to get my hands on the man. Surely, he would break my neck but at least the girl would have a chance to escape.
Vicky made clucking sounds with her mouth. I stopped struggling and gazed down at her. "How can you sit there and watch without doing anything?"
"Stop worrying," she said. "If you must know, it'll spoil the fun. But the ape is Suzy's boyfriend. They do this by themselves every night. At our parties, they do it for us. It's just a game they play to get each other excited. So relax and enjoy yourself."
"That ... that's the woman's boyfriend?"
For a moment, I thought Vicky was going to yawn. Instead, she let go of my arm and motioned for me to sit back down beside her. I sat.
The girl had taken her hands away from her face. Openly she stared at the giant's member. The organ dripped semen. The girl gazed at it, as though it were some kind of toy. She reached out, put one hand over it, then the other. She needed both of her hands to encircle its girth.
The giant grunted. Using only his thumb and forefinger, he reached down and grasped a piece of fabric of the dress, then tore it from her body. She wore nothing underneath. The girl stood naked, except for a garter belt and stockings.
Her body was very much like a young girl's, with breasts quite tiny and sticking out from her chest like buds on a stalk. The giant now took one of the nipples in his fingers, knelt down, and began licking it. The girl gave an excited little whimper and wiggled her chest back and forth. The giant started to drool. His saliva ran down over her chest and stomach, into the crevice between her legs.
Meanwhile, the girl still had both hands around the giant's rod (which I judged to be more than a foot long), and was jumping up and down, frantically trying to masturbate him. The giant continued to grunt and drool. I watched, horrified but hopelessly fascinated. I simply could not imagine the two of them in coitus. I waited breathlessly.
Apparently tiring of the girl's futile attempts to satisfy him, the giant reached down and put one great hand under each of the girl's armpits. He lifted her high into the air. She spread her legs, and squeaked with delight as the man-ape slowly let her down atop his huge dong.
I knew they could not possibly make it together. Still, my heart pounded in my ears. My genitals grew hard, once again, in Vicky's eager hand. I wanted them to make it, to feel the wondrous sensations of which their bodies were capable.
My first night in Vicky's "school," and already I had become a voyeur.
Though the girl had her legs spread out in the air, almost parallel to the ground (a remarkable gymnastic feat), the giant's log was no more than an inch or two inside her tiny hole. Both were straining toward each other, bucking and jerking their hjps. No use. Obviously they both wanted to become as one, but he was simply too big for her.
Again, it was a member of the audience who came to the rescue.
This time it was a man, a very small man; almost a midget. He came from the rear of the audience, walked up to the struggling couple, handed the girl a container he had taken from his pocket. The girl, still suspended over the giant's monstrous penis, took the tin and opened it. It was a can of jelly.
She scooped a handful of the slimy stuff and the giant lowered her so that she was able to smear his organ with it. This accomplished, the giant lifted her once more.
Now slowly but steadily, he forced her down on him. He disappeared into her; an inch, two inches ... the girl struggled ... the giant pushed. And he was in.
Fantastic sight. Obviously the largest part of the woman was her vagina. That, I decided, must surely be very large for she gave almost no sign of discomfort. The giant leaped off the ground in his excitement.
The midget disappeared for a moment, then reappeared carrying a stool similar to the one used by the woman with the champagne bottle. He walked to the middle of the stage, set the stool down, and climbed on top of it. Next he dropped his pants.
For such a small man, he was remarkably well hung. His penis thrust out into the light like a dagger.
The giant ... with the girl pinned to him ... walked toward the man on the stool.
The midget grasped the girl's hips and guided her into position. At last, when her anus poised directly above him, he thrust upward. The three of them groaned and moaned like symphonic instruments out of pitch.
I came once again, just as the lights went out.
In the darkness, I lay very still, conscious only of the myriad sensations in my genitals. I had experienced four orgasms in the space of an hour. Each of them had been more powerful than anything I had ever experienced before. I no longer worried about the class I was missing. The faces of my students were blurred in my memory. I cared for nothing but what was happening around me.
"That was the most fantastic thing I've ever seen," I said.
"You're learning fast," Vicky said. "You're a good student."
Vicky had finished cleaning me for a second time. The lights came on. I noticed with a twinge of panic that people were moving.
"Is it over?" I could not hide my disappointment.
"No," Vicky said. They're just stretching." It was not over yet.
And it was certainly true. A few of the people rose and stretched, then sat back down again. Soon the room fell deathly quiet. But nothing happened. I turned to Vicky.
"What's next?" I said.
Vicky looked at me for a long moment, her face slowly creasing into a thin smile. "We are," she said quietly.
I sat, momentarily stunned into silence. Looking around, I saw that everyone had turned their heads and were staring openly at us.
"I don't...."
Her hand flew through the air and crashed into my mouth, cutting off my words, welding them back into a small silent cry. She hesitated a moment, then slapped me again. She put all her weight into it. The force of her blow almost knocked me over from the kneeling position I had assumed. My thoughts became a jumble.
"Get up," Vicky commanded. "Get up!"
She hit me again. My ears began to ring. I heard scattered applause. I felt a small knot forming in my loins, a tiny ball of fire. For some reason, I could not understand, I wanted her to hit me again. She didn't.
"Get out there," Vicky commanded, pointing to the center of the floor.
Obediently I rose and walked out into the spotlight. I felt Vicky shove me from behind and I crumpled to my knees. I sensed the audience staring at me. The smell of their warm bodies and their excitement filled the air. I looked up into Vicky's face. She spoke loudly, so that her voice filled the room. She was like a high priestess at some ceremony of evil, offering me as a sacrifice. My humiliation was complete. Yet, I remained where I was, mesmerized by her flashing dark eyes.
"I've given you everything," Vicky said, chanting in sing-song. Her gaze locked on mine. "I've given you my body. I've opened up new worlds to you. And now you must pay the price." She paused a moment, I thought I heard her voice echo. "Kiss my feet," she said softly.
I shook my head, for I had lost the power of speech. My vocal chords simply would not work. Surely, I thought, I could rise to my feet and make a run for the door. I'd probably reach it, too. Everyone would be too surprised to move. I remained still.
Suddenly, Vicky had a lash in her hand. She brought it down across my back, tearing into my shirt. Three more swift strokes and tatters fell. My head drooped.
"Kiss my feet!" Vicky shouted.
She raised one booted foot and planted it on my chest. I could see up under her dress to where white flesh contrasted with black nylon and leather. I felt my maleness beginning to swell. Gladly would I suffer humiliation if only she let me stay, staring up her dress at her vagina.
She gave me a hard shove. I toppled over onto my back. In an instant, she was above me, her foot still on my chest. A sharp heel ground into my flesh. I lay there, hypnotized by the sight of her legs and distended vagina. My humiliation was likewise exciting her. Her vagina glistened with moisture.
"You will be my slave," Vicky said softly. "You belong to me. You will do whatever I say."
I started to shake my head again. Immediately she stepped back, closing her legs, hiding herself from my gaze. I looked up at her, my eyes wild with pleading. She stepped back. This time, her heel did not press into me. She turned her knee outwards so that the flesh of her sex danced before my eyes.
I let my breath out in a rush, grasped her foot and pressed my lips to the leather. A thrill ran through me as I licked at the heavy boot. I felt a shudder run through Vicky's body.
"You're mine."
"I'm yours," I murmured.
"You'll do whatever I say.".
I felt powerless to stop the ritual. I didn't want to stop. "I'll do whatever you say."
"Always!"
"Always."
Vicky reached down and removed her boot. I took her stockinged foot in my hands and rubbed my lips over it, kissing the ankle, the instep, the sole. Vicky writhed above me, somehow keeping her balance as I ravaged her foot.
She reached under her skirt and released the leather garters. I stripped the nylons from her legs and held them against my cheek while I continued to kiss her foot. The sensation of nylon and soft flesh was indescribably sweet. I had forgotten about the dozens of pairs of eyes watching our every movement. I no longer cared.
Vicky removed her leather blouse. She began squeezing and massaging her breasts. Frequently, she would take the butt of her whip into her mouth and rub her lips around its edge. Then she ran the whip between her legs. Once, I saw the entire butt disappear up into her. Sperm dribbled from me. Tears of joy ran down my cheeks. I half rose and pressed my lips to the back of her knee, nibbling and sucking at the soft flesh with my tongue.
Vicky put her hand on my head. Her fingers snaked through my hair, pulling it, holding me close. Suddenly she wrenched free. I lay there looking up at her, my eyes and lips formed a silent plea.
"Expose yourself, slave!"
My hands trembled as I fumbled with the zipper on my pants.
My only fear now was that I would somehow fail to get my penis out in time ... or that I would do something else to displease Vicky. No longer was it a question of whether or not I wanted to be her slave; I was her slave. And I felt deliriously happy to be so. The only thought that filled me with terror was that she would go away.
I managed to expose my penis. It stuck up into the air like a flag of surrender from the captured ship of my body. I waited, my trembling hand grasping my organ, offering it to her as a sacrifice.
Vicky nodded approval, then suddenly stepped across my body, straddling me. She stood there for a moment, her open vagina above my distended penis, her hands on her hips in a triumphant gesture. Then slowly she squatted.
I entered into her like a hot knife into melted butter. Immediately, I felt her insides contract with initial orgasm.
"Don't come until I tell you," she said. "If you do, you'll never have me again."
I had been ready to come that exact instant. Now I struggled to think of something else. The prospect of never again entering Vicky's body was a thought I could not bear.
She started slowly to undulate. Reaching behind her, she cupped my testicles, gently hobbling them up and down. I knew I could not hold myself back much longer. Already, fierce pains were shooting up from my groin. The pressure inside me had reached a critical point. Only Vicky's command kept me bottled up. She had complete control of me, including the supposedly automatic functions of my body. She continued to rock, all the while grasping my testicles harder and harder. The pain was dwarfed by the pleasure that coursed through every fibre of my being. Occasionally, Vicky would change direction, and rise up slightly until only the tip of my penis remained inside her, rubbing across her vaginal lips. I longed to thrust back into her, but dared not. Finally, she came down, in a swift, swooping motion, taking me once again up to the hilt. I could feel my tip touch the mouth of her womb. The pressure was building, building....
Vicky squeezed my testicles. She leaned back on me, and rubbed them against the flesh between her vagina and anus.
Impulsively, I reached up and grabbed her breasts swinging close to my face. I squeezed them hard, then took the nipples and rubbed them between the tips of my fingers.
A low moan was starting now from the audience. It was a communal moan. The same sound seemed to be issuing from everyone's lips at the same time. They too rocked back and forth, touching themselves or others. Stares fastened on Vicky and myself, bathed in the spotlight.
I felt her insides begin to contract. The fluid of her body washed over my penis, squirting out between the seal of our flesh. I closed my eyes against the agony created by my own holding back.
Suddenly, Vicky flung her legs out into the air and grasped them by the ankles. I sunk even deeper into her gaping crevice. She balanced on the pinnacle of my hard flesh. Her mouth was open, speechless. All she could do was nod her head. It was time.
I released the molten river within myself. My penis writhed in great contractions, sending the hot semen spurting out and into Vicky's body.
Vicky shrieked. I cried out. I could hear answering cries from the audience around us. I came in what seemed like a never-ending flow.
"You're mine!" Vicky screamed.
"I'm yours! Yours!"
The river coursed from my loins, until I fell into the soft, soothing arms of unconsciousness.
CHAPTER FOUR
I awoke with a splitting headache, as though pleasure had been a physical substance running through my blood like strong wine, leaving the aftermath of a hangover.
I was alone, lying in the middle of the wooden floor. The people had gone and the pillows had been taken away. The curtain no longer hung on the doorway and I could see into the dim recesses of what seemed to be a small storeroom. Sunlight streamed in through dirt-stained windows, falling on the floor in pools that resembled puddles of polluted water.
I struggled to my feet and almost collapsed. My groin ached. Somehow, I managed to find my way to the stairs. I climbed down them slowly and made my way out into the alley. I peered through the windows of the bar but it was closed. There was no one inside. The chairs and bar stools were turned over as though sleeping, resting up for the nighttime when, once again, warm buttocks would nestle on them.
The day seemed a stranger to me. The sunlight hurt my eyes. I walked hunched over, clasping my arms around my body as if, by doing so, I would be able to hide my shame.
I staggered back to my rooms at the university.
The chancellor was there waiting for me, a stern expression creasing his face. He wanted to know where I had been. I made some weak excuse about getting sick at a friend's house, although I knew he did not believe me. My appearance testified that I had spent the previous night mired in debauchery.
I had missed not only the evening's class, but two morning classes as well. The chancellor informed me that I was, as of that moment, on probation. He expressed shock that a promising scholar such as myself would allow himself to fall so low. He informed me, that if I missed one more class, I would be dropped from the faculty. I could think of nothing to say. I hung my head in shame and in a few minutes he left, muttering to himself about the sins of the flesh.
Even as I sat there in total mortification and in danger of losing my job, I could think of only one thing: Vicky's warm body. Even then I wanted her. And I didn't know how I would manage to get through the rest of the day, waiting for the nighttime when I would once again descend into The Dark Hole.
Somehow, I managed to teach my remaining classes, although I am not sure I was coherent. In any case, the chancellor looked in on one of the classes and found me teaching. I knew my job was safe for a while longer.
Immediately after the end of my last class, I rushed back to my rooms. My students were clamoring for their corrected papers, but I added the day's stack to the pile in the corner; a pile that had already grown high. I shaved and tried to clean myself as best I could, then stepped briskly out into the cool evening.
Once again I felt alive, bristling with excitement. I ran to the bus stop. Impatient with the time taken waiting for the bus, I dug into my pockets and found enough money for cab fare. In a few moments, I thought, I would be with Vicky.
I waited outside the bar, feasting my senses on the brightly glowing neon and the sounds of life from inside. Finally, I took a deep breath to steady myself, then stepped into the dark interior.
My glance swept the room. I recognized, many faces from the night before. The giant was there, dancing with his tiny girl friend. The girl with the champagne bottle lounged at the bar, dreamily running her fingers over the mouths of a dozen bottles that had been set out on the bar before her. Vicky was not there.
Nervously, I began asking where she was. For the most part, I was ignored. It was as though the previous evening had never existed. They did not seem to recognize me or, if they did, did not care to tell me anything about Vicky.
I ended up by drinking myself into a stupor. Before leaving, I made one more round of the bar patrons, begging them to tell me where Vicky might be. They ignored me, as before. Occasionally, I would notice a glint of what might have been laughter in their eyes.
I did make my first class the next day, which was fortunate. The chancellor was sitting in the rear of the room as I walked in. Once again, I managed to get through the lesson. One of the students asked me about the previous weeks' test papers. I mumbled something about having to re-do them. The chancellor raised his eyebrows but did not stop to speak to me after class. That was a good sign.
I was losing my concentration. Hour after hour, I stumbled through my classes. At the close of each day, I would run back to my rooms, change and strike out for The Dark Hole. Vicky was never there.
I sunk to the depths of despair. From that point on, I began to struggle back toward the light.
I would gladly have become Vicky's slave; her body meant that much to me. But it seemed that she was no longer interested.
Gradually, I began visiting the bar only every other night, then once a week. Then not at all.
Of course, I still longed to see Vicky. There was an ache inside me, as if she had carved out a piece of my flesh and the wound would not heal.
But I was surviving. In Vicky's presence, I would never have had the strength to break away. But, with her gone, I found my life gradually returning to normal. My interest in school returned. I found myself once again looking forward to my classes. I corrected the backlog of papers and found, to my delight, that my students were doing well. Once again, I was the promising young professor. Vicky James faded into an image just above the level of consciousness. Everything that had happened seemed like the remnant of a bad dream.
Still, I would occasionally wake in the middle of the night and imagine her calling my name. I would sink into a vivid image of her standing over me, her legs spread, her vagina opening and closing, inviting me to plunge into its depth.
But Marcia Long helped me to get over that.
Marcia was a new member of the department, teaching part time and preparing for her Doctor's degree. People rarely saw her, except as she dashed between classes. One or two of the other professors had asked her out, but she had refused them, saying that she had to spend all of her time studying. Soon they gave up, thinking that she was frigid.
Being involved with Vicky, I had not paid much attention to Marcia. In fact, I hardly knew who she was. Now I learned that Marcia Long had become something of a curiosity in the department. First: although she was attractive, no one was sure about the color of her eyes. The thick glasses she wore reduced her eyes to two small dots. Second: my friends and colleagues were willing to wager any amount of money that Marcia Long had the biggest breasts in the world.
I decided to see for myself.
"Good morning," I said to Marcia on one of the days I had a break between classes. "My name is Daniel Walters."
Marcia looked up from an experiment she was conducting. Indeed, the thickness of her lenses did obscure the color of her eyes but she had a full, sensuous mouth, rich with its own color and silky blond hair.
Everything else was true, also.
She had an incredibly beautiful body and I sucked my breath in with astonishment. A three quarter length white lab coat fit closely over a cotton dress that must have been custom made for her. The lower half of her was perfectly proportioned with rounded hips and buttocks modeled to perfection. Her shapely legs tapered into fine ankles and the high instep of her feet was emphasized by black, spike-heel shoes.
But her breasts were, indeed, incredible.
They were so large that she seemed to button the lab coat over them. Consequently, they thrust out into the air, huge and weirdly exciting. I saw the outline of the straps that went over her shoulders. They were almost two inches thick. I suspected that her bra must have been especially constructed to hold her in. Marcia Long had the largest breasts I had ever seen; the largest and the most arousing. I could see two large, round circles on her blouse where the nipples had imprinted the fabric.
I was already swollen stiff. I reached my hand into my pocket and made a desperate attempt to hold my organ down.
"You're staring, Professor Walters," Marcia Long said.
"I'm terribly sorry," I said. I really was. I had not come to stare at her, or to make fun, but simply to see for myself what all the fuss had been about. Also, from what the others had told me, I felt that she must be lonely. "Will you forgive me?"
Suddenly there was a blur behind the thick glass, and tears glistened. "It doesn't seem to matter," Marcia said, her shoulders heaving in a sob. This movement caused a shudder to run through her breasts. I imagined an earthquake running through twin mountains. "Everybody always stares at me. They think I'm some kind of freak."
"I don't think that," I said quickly. I remembered the terrible depression I had gone through when I was struggling to get over Vicky James. I decided that Marcia Long must be suffering too, and I wanted to help her. "You're not a freak," I said. "Not at all." I decided that the best approach would be a frank one. "On the other hand, you are somewhat unusual, and I suppose you have to expect a certain amount of attention or curiosity."
Marcia drew in her breath. Apparently, no one-had ever spoken so frankly. "You're the most honest man I've met," she said, something flickering in her eyes.
Suddenly, she took her forearm and brought it up under her breasts, lifting them even higher, pointing them in my direction. The tears were still flowing, and I felt a combination of sympathy, concern, and blazing excitement. My penis felt swollen to bursting. One little flick of my hand in my pocket and an embarrassing stain would spread over the front of my pants. I stood very still, my bulge in plain view. It was the only way I could keep from coming. She moved toward me, still supporting her breasts with her forearm.
"No one else has ever told me right out what I already know," Marcia continued. "I know men, and even women, stare at these things." Her voice had assumed a pleading quality. "What am I supposed to do? There's no way I can hide them, goodness knows. They're just a terrible curse. They're the ugliest things I've ever seen."
"They're not ugly," I said quickly, then paused, fearful that I had offended her. She peered at me from behind her glasses.
"They're a natural part of your body," I continued. "You, as a scientist, should know how natural that is. You should take pride in them, even enjoy them. They make you quite unique."
"Sometimes I think men are after me only because of my boobs," Marcia said.
I swallowed. It was difficult being honest in a situation like this. "Probably most of them are," I said. "But it's the same with other women too. Nine out of ten men are after a quick lay, as the saying goes. You simply have to wait, like every other woman, until you find a man with whom you think you would like to share your body. A man who also desires to know your mind." I glanced at her, then added as an afterthought: "I think you have a beautiful body ... and a beautiful mind."
"Thank you," Marcia said, blushing to the roots of her hair. "I believe you really mean it. But why are men so interested in a woman's body? Why are they so especially interested in these?" She lifted her arm. The mammary flesh quivered, even in their linen confinement. "They're just two hunks of meat. It seems childish that men should make so much fuss over them."
"They're very special pieces of flesh," I said. "It gives men pleasure to look at them and touch them. Some men even like to kiss them and suck on the nipples."
"Oh, how ghastly."
"Not at all," I said quietly, more confident of-myself. Our conversation was drawing Marcia out of her unhappiness, and that pleased me. I wanted to accomplish something worthwhile. After my near-disaster with Vicky and her friends, I felt I needed to do something positive. "Most women also get pleasure when men do that to their breasts, or do other things to their bodies. Usually, women like men to do that to them."
"Oh, my goodness," Marcia seemed genuinely confused. "But the body is just a mechanism for reproduction, for having babies."
I was beginning to take in the full meaning of her total inexperience. Her grotesque structure had kept her away from men to the point where she now associated her body and sex with unpleasant behavior. Also, her training as a biologist had led her to believe that physiology was only for making babies. I could hardly believe my ears.
"But sex is also a unique pleasure," I said. "Otherwise, there probably wouldn't be any babies. After all, you know how men are. If it was simply their duty to beget children, they probably wouldn't do it."
"I suppose you have something there," Marcia said, unconsciously running her hand over her right breast. "Most men wouldn't do it if they had to."
"That's right," I mumbled, my tongue thick with passion.
"Maybe I've been missing something important," Marcia said. She took off her glasses and moved up close to me. I could see that her eyes were a deep blue, intelligent and very sensitive. Her face hovered close to mine. Her breasts lightly grazed my chest. "Would you show me what men do to give women pleasure?"
"Sure," I said, swallowing hard. "If you'd like."
I reached up one hand and tentatively touched her right breast. Even my light touch was enough to depress the soft flesh. I felt convinced that if I pressed a little harder, my hand would disappear. I rubbed my fingers lightly over the circle in her blouse, and felt the nipple spring to life. It stood rock hard beneath my touch.
"Oh!" Marcia said. "That does feel good."
Thus encouraged, I raised my other hand to her left breast and began squeezing and rubbing both of them simultaneously. Now the two nipples were hard like little knife points in the palms of my hands. Marcia moaned. Her hips twitched involuntarily.
"That feels wonderful," she said. "Actually, I've just started."
"You mean there's more?"
"It feels even better ... if you have your clothes off."
"Well," Marcia said, obviously undecided.
My loins were on fire, but I knew I could not force the issue. Marcia was incredibly naive, almost as naive as I had been before my encounter with Vicky James. Yet I felt no sense of guilt, or that I was taking advantage of Marcia Long. After all, Marcia was a grown woman. Time for her to learn the pleasure her body could give. Vicky had not, by any means, convinced me that the senses were all that mattered. But she had taught me that they were very important, indeed. For Marcia, awakening into the full flower of her womanhood seemed long past due.
I gambled, and took my hands away.
Marcia's face fell.
"I wish you hadn't done that," she said. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to continue."
"I do," Marcia said after a long pause. "It did feel good. I suppose there's a great deal I have to learn."
"Yes," I said, placing my hands back on her breasts.
"Should I take off my blouse?"
"If you want to." I squeezed harder, as if to help her make up her mind.
I continued manipulating her breasts. Marcia removed her lab coat and let it drop to the floor. She pulled her blouse out of her skirt and began unbuttoning it. I noticed that her fingers trembled and she was breathing rapidly. It took her only a few seconds to unbutton the blouse. I stepped back and she pulled it off her shoulders, letting the garment fall beside her lab coat.
Now I could determine beyond any doubt that her bra was custom made. It had to be to hold all of her in. The front was made of a strong material, and extended down to the center of her stomach, in order to give her support. I had noticed before how thick the shoulder straps were. Even so, there were deep red marks on her shoulders where the pendulous weight of her mammaries had pulled the fabric into her flesh.
"Would you help me with this please?" Marcia turned her back. "It always takes me almost half an hour to un-do my bra."
I could see why. In order to give her support, the garment hooks had been designed to cover half her back.
First, I planted my lips on the small ridges of spine just below her neck. Marcia shivered. Impulsively, she reached and grabbed my hands, placing them once more on her breasts. I squeezed the nipples, then whispered in her ear.
"I need my hands free to undo your bra."
"Of course," she said, reluctantly letting go.
I struggled with the multitude of hooks until, at last, they were all undone. The heavy, reenforced fabric parted as the weight of her breasts sagged. Breathlessly, I pulled the bra from her shoulders, dropped it, and turned Marcia around.
My eyes feasted on the spectacle of the upper half of her body. My friends had not exaggerated. Marcia Long had the largest breasts in the world. Nowhere, not even in the biological textbooks, had I ever seen a larger pair.
Although their weight could be measured in pounds, the breasts were surprisingly firm. They covered the front of her, almost down to her navel. Even the action of her breathing was enough to send the skin quivering and shaking like heavenly jello. In the center of each breast, floating like red rubber rafts in an ocean of flesh, her huge nipples, rigid with passion, pointed straight at me. Each nipple alone was enough to fill a man's mouth. I struggled to control my breathing, then reached up and touched the nipples. Marcia let out a little squeal.
Using both hands, I cupped one of the breasts and jiggled it up and down. Marcia took her own hands and did the same to the free-swinging breast. She was panting.
"When ... are ... you going to do the other things?"
"Come with me," I said.
I led her to the rear of the room, and dragged a chair out from beneath a desk. I at down in the chair and pulled Marcia close to me.
"Put your hands behind you and lean back," I directed.
Marcia did as she was told. Her breasts jutted. Her taut nipples hovered just above my face. Circling her waist with my arms, I leaned forward and licked the right nipple.
Marcia jumped. "Oh, that feels good," she said.
"You have to stand still, or I won't be able to keep it in my mouth," I said.
"All right. Please lick it again."
I did. I licked ardently, using the tip of my tongue, and dividing my attention between the left and right nipples. Marcia squirmed with delight, but somehow managed to keep herself within my grasp. Marcia's hand started pushing against the back of my head. The nipple fell from my mouth. She groaned with disappointment until it returned into position. I continued to work my mouth, gradually increasing the pressure of my lips, and drawing the large red bud back and forth in a steady sucking motion.
"Does that feel good?"
"Oh, my God yes! Don't stop!"
I sucked at her nipples some more, then commanded her to get down on the floor on her knees.
She was reluctant to have me stop sucking her but she did as I said.
When she was on all fours, her breasts hung down a fantastic distance. They almost brushed the floor.
It was a visual banquet, worthy of the most demanding gourmet of lust. I knelt before her for a few moments, drinking in the sight of her.
"Does it make you feel good just to look at me?"
"Sometimes," I said, reaching forward and squeezing one of the hanging pendulums.
"Oh," she said, "that feels good."
I played with them in this position for a few more minutes, then gradually began working my way around toward her rear, leaning over her back and continuing my play.
"Show me," Marcia said, her voice quivering. "Please show me!"
Kneeling at her side, I placed one hand on her ankle, rubbing it, gradually increasing the range of my stroke each time until finally I allowed my hand to rest on her thigh. Marcia was shaking all over.
"You're going to play with me there?" She sounded slightly alarmed.
"That's-where it feels the best," I said, soothingly.
"Go ahead then." She shifted her knees slightly, in order to give me more room to move my hand. I shuddered, then reached up and pulled down her panties. Marcia raised her knees off the floor, enabling me to pull the pants down past them, then she raised up her feet, and I pulled the flimsy garment past her ankles and off. Instinctively, Marcia spread her knees wider, and depressed her hips, thus widening the gap between her legs. I thrust my hand up beneath her skirt and rested it on her hair-covered mound.
I gasped. Her vagina felt so alive beneath her wet center in the palm of my hand. There was space here. Suddenly it occurred to me that Marcia Long might have the largest vagina in the world. I could feel beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead as I rubbed my hand all over her.
Somehow, Marcia knew how to move her vaginal lips; or perhaps the action was only that of involuntary muscles. In any case, I could feel those lips caressing my palm, opening and closing, beckoning me to insert a finger.
I did. The middle finger was not enough. It was as though the entire digit had been swallowed. Marcia was moving her hips rhythmically. Already she had begun to come, giving my finger a hot bath.
I inserted my index finger, then my ring finger into her vagina, moving them around in what seemed to be a vast cavity that could take in anything.
I had placed her skirt up over her waist. Her bare buttocks trembled. I gave two or three quick jerks with my fingers, then bent over and nibbled at the tender flesh.
"More!" Marcia rasped hoarsely. "More!"
Finally I put four fingers into her hole, then the tip of my thumb into her anus, anchoring my hand. I began to rock my hand, rubbing the upper portion of her vagina with my fingers. I curled them around and squeezed her stiff clitoris. Marcia bucked like a horse. Still I managed to hang on, moving with her, moving my arm back and forth while, at the same time, slapping and pulling and squeezing her monstrous breasts. Marcia gnashed at the air with her teeth. Her body fluid flowed freely, running down over my arm and soaking me to the elbow. I could hold myself back no longer.
I jerked my hips and the semen flowed out of me. Still, I experienced not the slightest lessening of desire.
"Stay still," I commanded.
Marcia froze, with her knees spread, hands flat on the floor, supporting her weight.
I lay down on my back and slid underneath her. Her vagina dripped liquid onto my face. I reached up, locked my arms around her waist, and pulled myself up, fastening my lips around her mound.
Marcia screamed. I feared she would buck and smash my head against the floor. She must have recognized the danger for she froze again. The tremors of her body were the only indication of her passion.
I sucked at her as hard as I could, rolling her vaginal lips around in my mouth and trying to hang on. The love fluid spurted from her and smeared across my cheeks. I darted my tongue rapidly in and out, lapping her vaginal walls and further stimulating her clitoris. I felt as if I were drowning. Holding my breath, I thrust my mouth and chin up into her, sucking and licking everything that I touched. Marcia used her free hand to rub her breasts against my cheeks.
Unable to hold my breath any longer, I came away and rolled over until I was once again behind her, in a kneeling position.
I had lost contact with her body and Marcia must have feared that I had finished with her. She gave a long, heart-broken moan and reached for her vagina with her own hand. At the same time, I moved forward, grasped her buttocks in both my hands and thrust my hips forward. My penis, which I had rapidly taken out of my pants, brushed past her fingers and was sucked into her gaping vagina.
For a moment, I feared there would not be enough of me to satisfy her. Then I felt the vaginal walls closing around my pole and I began moving in and out. She moved with me. Our bodies were truly one, a perfect symphony of motion that needed no conductor.
I felt her hand on my testicles. At first I imagined that she was trying to stimulate me further. Then I realized she was trying to put everything she could put her hands on into herself.
I arched my back. At the same time, Marcia doubled up. Easily, my testicles slipped into her vagina. She kept her hand there, holding them in.
I was beside myself with pleasure. With all my genitalia inside Marcia, I could not hold out any longer. I let out a rebel yell and flooded her insides with my sticky sperm.
Marcia joined me in my ecstatic outburst, pounding the floor with the palm of her hand and squeezing her breasts, crying out and groaning.
I literally fell out of her. My testicles and penis slid out with the sound of a cork popping from a bottle. I leaned back on the cool wood floor and closed my eyes.
When I opened them, Marcia was kneeling beside me, looking down into my face. Her expression was relaxed and beautiful. She looked very happy. She had not put her bra on and her luscious breasts hung in front of me. I reached to stroke them gently, as a gesture of love. I felt filled with pride at my success in awakening Marcia to the wonder of her body.
"I locked the door while you were resting," Marcia giggled. "Can you imagine the chancellor walking in?"
I laughed with her. It felt pleasant to enjoy sex in this manner without the terrible overtones of perversion and bondage I had experienced with Vicky James.
The mere thought of Vicky was enough to cause me tension and I could feel a cloud passing over my eyes. I was disturbed to find I still had not got the woman from The Dark Hole out of my system.
"What's the matter?" Marcia said, her voice ringing with concern.
"It's nothing," I tried to concentrate on the breasts dangling in front of me.
"You were right," Marcia said. "Right about your making my body feel good."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Oh, yes. Did you?"
It was all I could do to keep from laughing. But I didn't laugh. I knew Marcia was quite serious, that this had been her first real experience at making love. "Yes," Isaid.
She was looking at me strangely. "It's funny," she said. "You were the one ... doing everything. Do you know what I mean? You did all the work. All the things you did. Is there ... something I can do to make you feel the same way?"
I studied her eyes. They were hungry. I understood that her request was more than a simple desire to please me. She wanted me to make love to her again. "Yes, there is. Would you like to learn?"
"I certainly would," Marcia said. At the same time, she reached down and placed her hand on my crotch. Immediately, I swelled. I covered her hand with mine and together we rubbed my tool. With my other hand, I fondled her breast.
"Does that feel good?" Marcia asked.
"Yes. Now take it out."
She obeyed me, slowly unzipping my pants (which she had apparently fastened while I was sleeping) and releasing my penis. She looked at it closely. I watched as her nipples sprung to life, as before.
"What else should I do?"
"Use your imagination."
Marcia continued to stroke my member, at the same time staring over my shoulder, as if in thought. Finally, she leaned over and placed my organ in between her breasts. Next, she placed her own hands on her breasts and squeezed them together, thus trapping my penis between them. I sighed, lending her encouragement. She squeezed harder, occasionally rubbing her nipples across the tip, then once again smothering it in her ample folds of flesh.
"You're doing beautifully," I said. I was breathing hard now and could scarcely make myself heard. Marcia nodded. Somehow, she managed to bend her head down so that she was in a position to lick the head of my organ. A droplet of semen appeared. She smiled and licked it away, all the while moving her breasts rapidly up and down on it.
Finally she released her hands from her breasts and moved back far enough so that she could take me into her mouth. She grasped my penis firmly at the base, paused a moment to look into my eyes, as if telling me how much she was enjoying herself, then plunged her mouth down on me, at the same time grasping my testicles in her hands and squeezing them. My body tingled all over, as if I were wired to a generator. I leaned back on the floor and put my hand on top of her head, delighting in the motion of her neck as she went up and down on me.
She was able to suck very hard. My hand left her head and grabbed hold of a breast. Marcia moaned. She moved her head up and down even faster, at the same time flicking the hard tip of her tongue around the base of my sex. I jerked once or twice, then shot my full load against her palate.
Marcia sighed, leaned back, and dabbed her mouth daintily with the corner of her blouse. Then she looked down at me, her face radiating blissful happiness.
"Was that good?"
"Yes," I said. "Very good. You're very good." I was busily zipping myself up and otherwise putting myself in order. Marcia was still naked to the waist and I tried to avoid looking at her.
"Is that really all?" she said.
"No," I bent over and kissed her breasts one last time. "There are other things I can teach you. But I have to rush to class now." I showed her my watch. I had only five minutes, and my class was on the far side of the campus. I would just make it if I hurried. Marcia glanced at the watch and masked her disappointment with a smile.
"But you will be back?"
"I promise."
I hurried from the room and ran across the campus, exulting in the fresh breeze on my face and through my hair. At last I felt completely free of Vicky James. In fact, I thought, I should be grateful to her. Before I met her, I had been shy, withdrawn, naive. Now, I was learning my way with women. My success with Marcia Long seemed to prove that. I felt confident, freed from all the inhibitions that had been plaguing me most of my life. The only time I had ever been happier was with Barbara Tanner. But that had been a long time ago, in high school. Barbara had been my first love. I suppose we always reserve a special place in our hearts for our first loves.
Also, Barbara had been the first woman I had ever had. Of course, we had both been quite young at the time and her body had not yet ripened. I wondered what she looked like now.
I knew it was un-likely that I would ever find out. Barbara and I had parted friends. But we had parted. Our initial lovemaking had always been brightened by Barbara's insistence on our spiritual love together. Barbara had said that, without the spiritual side of love, sex was never all it could be. It had been Barbara who had always emphasized the importance of mind. I smiled to myself. I wondered what Barbara would make of Vicky James.
We'd been very good together. In fact, I suppose that Barbara and I loved each other, as much as teenagers can love. Our initial, innocent attempts at sex had been clean and beautiful. Perhaps if both of us had not gone on to college, we would have married.
But we did go on to college, I to become a scientist; she to study sociology. So we had pursued our separate ways, vowing that someday we would meet and learn to love each other all over again. Of course, it had been a childish pledge. Now we were many miles and many years apart. Barbara was only a sweet memory. In all my years, I had never met a finer woman.
I reached the building where my class was being held, and hurried up the stairs, dismissing thoughts of Barbara Tanner and trying to concentrate on the lesson I would give.
Fortunately I had prepared my work for that day. I saw the chancellor sitting in the back of the room. This time it looked as though he intended to stay for the entire period. He had a pad and pencil in front of him. I supposed he was preparing to evaluate me. I did not feel overly concerned since such evaluations are common, and I was well prepared. I breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness that the evaluation was today and not a few weeks ago when I had been obsessed by Vicky James.
Apparently, all had been forgiven. As I entered the room, the chancellor smiled at me with encouragement. I nodded back, and stepped up to the lectern.
"Good afternoon, class."
"Good afternoon, Professor Walters."
I looked around the room and my chest swelled with pride. Perhaps they sensed or had found out that I would be evaluated that day. They were all on time and in their seats. I held their complete attention. Even Jeanie Jones was sitting with her skirt well down over her knees so that I would not be distracted.
Even so, there was a fire in her eyes that had been absent for the past few weeks.
Yes, I thought, there was no doubt about it. Jean-nie's passion was smoldering once again. In fact, I felt sure I would find her waiting for me after class. Marcia Long and Jeanie Jones, all in one day. A man could ask for no more.
"Now class," I said, and pencils sprang into their hands, notebooks flopped open. I gave them a nod of appreciation before continuing.
"Before getting into the lesson for today ... which, incidentally, is the unique evolutionary pattern of Australian wildlife. I would like to speak for a few minutes on a subject which is very important to me ... and one to which you yourselves should give a great deal of thought.
"That is the importance of the mind. Remember, it is our brain which gives us mastery over the earth. Without our tremendous mental capacities, we would be nothing. For example, man is physiologically one of the weakest animals. Certainly, we are no match for the elephant, the lion, or the gorilla. Yet, by using our mental capacity, we are able to fashion firearms which, in fact, make us more powerful than the strongest beast. Is this not true?"
The class nodded in unison. The chancellor beamed approvingly. I felt flushed with excitement. Here was my answer to Vicky James, this classroom full of excited faces.
"You can see what I'm getting at, I hope. Our mind is our most important part. Without it, we are no better than the lowest animal. Worse, in fact, for we are one of the few animals that kills members of our own species. That is why we are here in school; to improve our minds. Above all, we must remember to remain rational. We must, at all times, think. We must always control our passions, not let them control us. We must be masters of our own fate, never let our hearts rule our heads.
"Now," I continued, quite pleased with myself, "now that I've gotten that little piece of business out of the way, I can begin the lesson. I hope you will forgive me that little digression, but I have had reason, in the past few weeks, to do some soul-searching. I had a very bad experience. Naturally, I cannot tell you what it is, but let me assure you, the experience has taught me to value my reason ... and, I hope, to control my passions.
"Now, as far as the evolutionary pattern of the Australian wildlife is concerned, I think...."
I stopped. There was the sound of a person clapping, off to my left, near the door. Excited murmurs rose from the class. Everyone turned, staring in that direction. The chancellor's mouth dropped open. Color rushed to his face. My own heart was racing. I slowly turned and stared full into the murderous gaze of Vicky James.
"Well said, Professor," Vicky drawled, punctuating her words with one last clap of her hands. "Don't stop now. Tell us more about your 'terrible experience'."
Her eyes gleamed wickedly. She stood leaning against the door jamb, slapping a riding crop into the palm of her hand. The sound made me tremble with the memory of the lash laid across my back. And it excited me.
She was dressed all in black. Black sweater, tight black skirt, black stockings and black, stiletto-heeled shoes. Her mouth was pulled back in a cruel smile. Her voice rang with mockery.
"Vicky, I ... I...." I could do nothing but stammer.
"Professor Walters!" The chancellor's shocked voice interrupted me. "Do you mean to tell me you know this woman?"
"Know me," Vicky shrieked, throwing her head back and laughing. "My God, I'll say he knows me. He knows every inch of my body. He's eaten me out."
"He's what?"
Vicky spread her legs slightly, lifted her skirt with the butt of her riding crop. "C'mere, Big Boy," she said to the chancellor, "I'll show you how."
The chancellor rushed across the room. Excited giggles bubbled among the students. Jeanie Jones looked at me with a new expression on her face, a mingling of respect and fear. Apparently, she realized I was in grave danger, not for my life, but for my soul.
"Madame," the chancellor said to Vicky, "you must leave at once. This is a class in the evolutionary patterns of Australian wildlife."
"I don't care what it is," Vicky shouted, moving across the room toward me.
I backed up against the wall, resisting the impulse to put my head in my hands. I was afraid.
Vicky pointed her riding crop at me. "I've come for him," she said evenly. "Didn't he tell you he was my slave?" She paused, a smile playing around the edges of her mouth. "And don't call me 'Madame,' " she continued. "I do everything for free."
A yell went up from the male students. I glowered at them but they paid no attention. I had lost all control of the class.
This was also evident to the chancellor. Nevertheless, he decided to give me a chance. He turned to me, and spoke with a quiet dignity.
"Professor, since you seem to have some connection with this person, see .that she leaves. I cannot allow this class to be interrupted in such fashion."
I looked at Vicky. My tone pleaded. "Please, Vicky," I begged. "Please go. You'll cost me my job."
"You should have thought of that before you stuck that long thing of yours into me," she said. "I told you what the price would be. You accepted." She sauntered around the room now, pausing occasionally to tap one of the male students on the shoulder with her riding crop. Their eyes followed her hungrily, fastened to her swaying buttocks, her jiggling breasts.
"He talks about rationality," Vicky said, stopping in front of Jeanie Jones, touching Jeanie's breasts with her whip. Jeanie trembled. "You should know him the way I know him. The way I know all of you. You're all a bunch of hypocrites. Even that big fat one over there, the chancellor, or whatever you call him. Right now he's thinking how much he wants me. And he's got a hard-on to boot."
Instinctively the chancellor crouched to hide the swelling in his pants. The class howled. Some of the bolder boys reached out and squeezed Vicky's breasts. She responded by stroking their crotches with her riding whip. There was a faint smell of semen in the air.
"All of you want me," Vicky said. "When it comes right down to it, the only thing you care about is your lust. Why don't you admit it? Given the chance, every one of you would throw everything over for the chance to be my slave. You may not realize it, but it's true." She came toward me. "Ask the professor here."
I cringed. The worst of it was my realization that she spoke the truth, at least for me. I seemed to be peering through a red haze in front of my eyes, a blur that was my own passion. I struggled to control myself, but my resolve only grew weaker.
"What's so bad about the so-called lower animals?" Vicky asked. "You wish you were as good. And as happy. They do what they want to do, and make no bones about it. Most important, they don't hurt each other, like you educated people do. You won't find any monkeys building bombs."
"I'll call the police," I yelled suddenly, drawing myself up to my full height. "I'll call the police. I will not molest a woman. I'll let them take you."
Vicky laughed.
"You can't make me go with you." I wondered why I sounded so desperate. In a moment, I discovered the reason. Though she could not make me go with her, my own lust ... the force that she had released that night in the loft over The Dark Hole ... drove me. I felt completely powerless.
Vicky strode directly to the platform on which the lectern stood. She put one leg up. Her skirt rode along her thighs, revealing the ivory white flesh around the tops of her stockings. Her jet black garters against that whiteness excited me almost beyond reason. My hand trembled with an uncontrollable urge to reach out and stroke her.
"I don't have to make you go with me," Vicky said. "You'll come of your own accord. You'll come because you want to come."
"No." My voice was almost a scream.
My gaze riveted on her legs. Her hand came down and stroked them. The butt of her whip disappeared beneath the dark shadows of her skirt. I could hear the caress of leather against silk. I wanted her then more than ever.
"You'll come," she continued. "You want me ... and the only way you'll have me is by coming with me. You'll be my slave because you know you have to."
"I'm cured," I screamed. "I've gotten along without you all these weeks. I don't need you!"
"Aha!" Vicky said. "I stayed away from you on purpose. I wanted you to feel that you were breaking away from me. I wanted you to think that you could be happy with other women. That makes it all the better. Don't you hurt inside, Professor?"
"Oh yes," I murmured. "God, how I hurt. Why can't you leave me alone?"
"Because you're mine! I take what's mine!"
"Why don't you just go away and leave the professor alone!" It was Jeanie Jones who spoke.
I felt grateful for her support, but shocked by the realization that even her voice was tinged with passion. I had the sickening thought that Jeanie might want Vicky to leave me alone ... so that Jeanie could have Vicky for herself. I choked back a sob.
"C;mon, Professor," Vicky said, motioning with her crop toward the door. She squeezed her breasts to give her words emphasis. "You know you're coming with me, so why waste time?"
"Professor," the chancellor said, trying to shield the semen spots on his trousers. "If you go with that woman, your contract to teach here at the university is terminated."
I started to scream out, to tell the chancellor that there was nothing I could do. But I was struck dumb, trembling with a passion that clouded everything else. Vicky was right. I would follow her out of that room because all of my reasoning powers were overwhelmed by her sensuality.
Slowly I closed the textbook in front of me, knowing I could never return, knowing that I was leaving my manhood behind me.
As I followed Vicky out of the room, I heard the sound of Jeanie Jones crying.
CHAPTER FIVE
I was rewarded immediately, if such a thing can be called reward.
It seems that Vicky had, indeed, missed me. Perhaps my naivete had appealed to her. Certainly, this was a quality missing from all of her other friends. In any case, the moment we walked from the classroom, she grabbed my crotch and vigorously began rubbing my penis. "I want you in me, Danny," she said, resire rumbling in her throat. "I want you in me now."
Walking outside, we passed near the mathematics building which I knew to be almost deserted at this time of day. Grabbing Vicky by the buttocks, I wheeled her in the direction of the building. We stumbled through the front doors and Vicky threw her hands around my neck. Her knee pressed against my crotch, insistently. She tried to pull me down on top of her.
"Not here," I said. "The chancellor will see us."
"What do you care? Don't you remember? You don't work here any more. You're all mine."
I did remember. The realization bathed over me in hot waves of shame. Still, I was surprised to find some lingering traces of modesty within myself.
"It doesn't make any difference," I said. "Making love should be private."
She pressed my hand into her mound, rubbed her sex against my hand. "Now you sound like a college professor again," she said. "All you have to do is feel things."
I lifted her bodily and carried her from the hall into an empty classroom. I locked the door behind us.
I turned to find Vicky drawing her sweater up around her neck. Quickly I stepped forward, reached behind her back to unhook her bra, and pulled it and her sweater over her head. The force of my movements caused her breasts to bounce. Finally, they came to rest with their rosy tips taut and erect. She held one in each hand. Pointed them at me. I leaned forward. Sucked one nipple after the other into my mouth. Her hands became busy, squeezing each breast further and further into me until I could feel the nipple brushing the back of my throat. Then I released that breast and moved my head to the other.
Unable to reach me with her hand, Vicky continued to knead my crotch with her thigh and knee. I humped up and down on her as I sucked, deleriously happy to be back with her.
I found her thigh and stroked it, pressing my fingers inside the tops of her stockings and squeezing the soft flesh. Finally, Vicky could no longer contain herself. She put her hand on top of mine, and thrust it up into her venus. Energetically, she humped on my hand. Caught by the rhythms of her body, I waited until she had brought her hips back for another thrust, then hooked my fingers over the elastic of her panties and pulled them down. I searched along the silky softness of her belly and finally probed into her vagina. She humped harder, spreading her legs to encourage penetration.
I slipped in three fingers. Vicky bounced frantically on my hand, rotating her hips so that I would touch every part of her insides.
"Come down on it," she whispered. "I want to feel your mouth on me."
Without removing my fingers, I slid down onto my knees and put my face close to her vagina. Vicky was up on her toes now, extending her body over my head. Quickly, I pulled out my fingers and planted my mouth on her sweet, juicy sex.
I did not immediately put my tongue in. Instead, I contented myself with a vigorous sucking of the vaginal lips, an action that satisfied Vicky, and yet made her mad with desire for more.
I grasped her tightly by the buttocks, winding my fingers in and out of her garters to give myself leverage and control over her bucking body. She was crying out loudly and I hoped that no one in the hall would overhead. However, at that moment, I would not have stopped for anything or anyone.
Her vaginal lips distended, wet with my saliva and with Vicky's own passion. Sometimes, I sucked one singly, pinning it against the roof of my mouth, then licking the under-surface. Other times, I took both lips into my mouth at once and moved them around, pulling them with strong suction. Vicky was almost sitting on my head, forcing my neck back further and further. No matter, I thought, what a wonderful way to die.
I released her lips. At the same time I pulled her forward with my hands. Contracting the muscles in my tongue to make it short and thick, I thrust it into her hole. Vicky groaned, spread her knees outward, and continued to bounce as I lapped at her. Finally, I lengthened my tongue and sent it darting into her innermost recesses. Her vagina expanded to the point where almost my entire mouth fit in her, leaving my nose just far out enough to breathe.
Somehow (it happened too fast for me to see how she managed it) Vicky twisted around over my head, and braced me as I slowly sank back down to the floor. She sank with me, exhibiting perfect muscle control, until she straddled me, her knees on either side of my head. I continued to suck and lick her while her hands worked on my fly. In a moment, my penis felt exposed. She leaned over and took it into her mouth, moving her head rapidly up and down on it.
I came, shooting my semen onto her tongue. Vicky did not pause. She swallowed my come, and kept moving her head. She flowed so fast that I had to keep turning my head to one side to allow her juices to pour from the side of my mouth. Somehow, I kept going.
At that moment, both my job and my soul seemed a small price to pay for the privilege of having Vicky James own me completely. My flesh had become addicted to her. I knew I could not do without her kind of sex.
Suddenly, she sat up and leaned toward me. At the same time, she hopped forward on her knees and arched her back. My penis disappeared into her body.
Her back was to me, so that Vicky could reach directly down in front of her and toy with my testicles. The feel of her hand on me caused a tingling ecstasy. I felt an orgasm building up to the point of explosion. My loins quivered.
Calling upon my last reserves of energy, I sat up. My pole dug deeper into Vicky. She gave a sharp cry of pleasure.
I encircled her waist with my hands and cupped both breasts.
"Squeeze them hard," Vicky moaned. "Play with the nipples."
I squeezed very hard, then took the nipples between my fingertips and pulled them, rolling them back and forth, twisting them as her body rocked on mine.
Suddenly she paused in the middle of a stroke. Utter silence. It seemed as though Vicky had stopped breathing. Then, just as I felt the sperm surging through my testicles, Vicky screeched. She gave my testicles a hard wrench, arched her back, threw her legs out to either side and thrust forward.
The flow of her juices became a torrent. Dampness splashed over my testicles and thighs. I exploded at the same time. We clung together for five or six seconds as our simultaneous orgasm leaped to completion.
I sank back on the floor, exhausted. Vicky remained in the same position until she felt my penis lose its tension and shrivel. Then she slid off and got to her feet.
"Get up," she said, smoothing down her skirt and dressing the upper half of her body.
She placed each breast into its linen pocket, then snapped the bra behind her. I could see the red marks all around her breasts where I had nibbled her in my passion. I felt very weak as I fumbled with my zipper.
"Didn't you hear me?" Vicky said. "I told you to get up!" There was a chill in her voice, like that of an over-wrought mistress impatient with her dog. I felt a scalding wave of shame.
"Can't you at least be decent with me?" I said.
Immediately I was sorry I had spoken. I sounded like a whiner, which I was. Vicky nudged me in the ribs with the sharp toe of her shoe.
"Believe me," she said, "you'll get so you'll enjoy having me treat you this way. In fact, I think you already do. Otherwise, why did you come with me? You could have refused. Or you could have called the police, like you threatened. At the very least, you could have picked me up and carried me out of your precious classroom. You're big enough to do it."
She waited for my answer. I hung my head in shamed silence. It was true that I could have done any of those things. And I hadn't.
"See?" Vicky's voice mocked me. "You like me to rule you. You like being submissive, because it increases your own excitement. You forget, Mister, I'm an expert. I know what a man wants ... at least, I know what you want. I knew it from the first time I laid eyes on you."
"You're wrong," I said. But my voice lacked conviction.
Vicky sensed this immediately.
"Am I?" she said, her tone heavy with scorn. "Listen to you. You sound like a little boy caught pulling his pudding and trying to deny it. I've found you out, Professor. It's senseless trying to fight me."
I hung my head even further. I simply did not have the strength to face her, as if by ejaculating into Vicky, I had given up every ounce of will and self-respect as well as my semen. I felt completely humiliated.
Was it true that I was the type of man who secretly desired bondage to a woman? The thought ate at my brain. Vicky had said she had seen it in me from the beginning. Did she mean it, or was this simply another way of hurting me? Vicky lived by lies. In that case, why shouldn't this be a lie? The answer came immediately: because of my own actions! I had walked away from my friends and my job simply because Vicky had commanded me to do so. What was this, if not a desire to enter into bondage? I had given up normal sex, both with Jeanie and with Marcia Long, for the unnatural pain that Vicky inflicted. Physical pain (as when she had whipped me in the loft) and emotional pain such as she was administering now. Truly, I thought, I was no longer a man.
The idea stiffened my spine. I had only to get up from the floor and walk out of the room. It was as simple as that.
I would go back to the chancellor and apologize to him. Perhaps I would lie, tell him that what I had done had seemed to be the only way to remove Vicky from the classroom without creating a scene. I would tell him that I had walked her to the edge of the campus and threatened to call the police if she ever came back. Of course, the chancellor would believe me. He might even give me a promotion for showing such insight into human behavior.
Likewise, Jeanie Jones, not to mention Marcia Long, would show me new and greater respect when they heard what I had supposedly done. They would want me to make love to them all the time. I would be exhausted at the end of the day, meeting them between classes and bedding both of them.
"Forget it!"
"Huh? Wh...?"
Reality intruded upon my dream. Vicky stood before me, waving her hand in front of my glazed eyes.
"You were just thinking of how easy it would be for you to leave," she said, tapping her crop in her hand. It made an ugly, slapping sound. "You can't do it, so you might as well stop dreaming. Unless, of course, it makes you even happier to be miserable."
"That's a contradiction in terms."
"Not between us, it isn't. I've already shown you that."
I looked away from her face. Anger began to stir within me. Why couldn't I be master of my own fate? Just as I had told my class. I had only to walk a few steps, then close the door behind me, and I would be free.
I started to walk toward the exit. It felt as if I were mired in quicksand getting deeper. With every step it pulled at my legs, sucking me down into its depths.
"Stop, Professor! You belong to me. You'll go when I tell you. You'll be free only when I'm finished with you."
I stiffened, as her words cut into me. But I took another step. The quicksand feeling rose to my knees, crept over my thighs. I was almost at the door. I reached for the knob.
Her whip fell across my back, tearing my shirt. It was a light blow, not enough to break the skin. I felt a thrill of excitement run through my body. I closed my eyes. Once again the whip fell. I cried out, but not in pain. I was being overwhelmed by desire.
"Look at me!" Vicky commanded.
Slowly I turned, pulled by invisible strings. Vicky struck me across the face with the palm and back of her hand. My flesh stung. My penis hardened:
"Watch me!"
Seeing that my gaze was transfixed on her, Vicky raised her skirt with the butt of her whip, then held the hem around her waist. Slowly, her eyes never leaving my face, she used the butt to pull down her panties. She rubbed the hard leather over her exposed vagina.
I knew my eyes were glowing brightly, fanned by unspeakable lust. She spread her legs. Thrust the butt end of the whip into her. Both of us sighed ... and came ... at once. The stain spread over the front of my trousers as her liquid ran down over the leather of the whip.
"Can you stand the thought of not being with me?"
I shook my head numbly, and once again, struggled to turn myself around and head for the door.
"You can't do it, Professor." Vicky's voice was soft, but insistent. "Stop fighting me." My fingers touched the knob. "Stop!"
That single word drained the last of my spirit. I felt I must surely fail. I feared that if I struggled against her now and lost, as I was sure to do, I would never have another chance. My will would never be my own. I could think of nothing that could save me or help me to regain my identity. This particular battle was lost. But I did not want to lose the war.
Obediently, I turned back.
"What happens now?"
Vicky breathed a sigh of relief. "That's better," she said. "Now you come home with me."
"How will I take ... take care of myself?" I could not believe the weak voice was my own. I was totally under Vicky's control. "Remember, I have no job."
"Oh, I'll take care of you," Vicky said haughtily. "All you have to do is obey me. You'll clean the house and do the cooking. You'll be my butler ... and my maid. Then, if you're a good boy, I'll let you have my body every once in a while." She wriggled her hips, as if to give her words further emphasis, then pointed to the door. I walked out ahead of her.
We passed out of the building at the same time that the chancellor and my class came by. They stopped and stared at us as we walked down the steps and out toward the street. I could not bear to look into their faces. I studied my feet as I shuffled along.
We got on a bus. The same one that had taken me down into the slums so many times before. Vicky smiled at the bus driver and he reached out and stroked her breast. She responded in the same manner as she had in my classroom; by reaching out and stroking his crotch with her riding crop.
She does this with all her men friends, I thought, feeling nauseous. The other passengers stared at us making no attempt to hide their shock. Vicky prodded me in the back. I stepped down the aisle like some obedient animal. The passengers lowered their heads as I passed, as if they, too, shared my shame.
Why had she picked me? I thought. Why must I go through this continuous humiliation? Because I had beaten Roscoe? Roscoe must have taught her to hate men ... but she still wanted their bodies. That was the only explanation I could think of. Yet this did not help me to understand why she was doing this. Her sensuality was too much for me to overcome; and Vicky knew it. That was what allowed her to keep me in bondage. I wondered if I would ever be free. I knew I was reacting in a sick manner, and yet was powerless to do anything to help myself. I even wondered if I would ever really want to be free. I was not so sure.
The bus stopped at a familiar corner. Once again, Vicky prodded me. I rose and stepped off the bus, followed by the shocked gaze of the other passengers. I wanted to find a hole to crawl in and hide; but, of course, Vicky would not have allowed me to hide, even if I had been able to. She enjoyed my humiliation.
Vicky shoved me ahead a few paces. I found myself in front of The Dark Hole, where it had all begun. Vicky led me into the apartment house next to it. Up three flights of stairs. Her rooms were attractive, or would have been attractive, if they were neat. Clothes lay over the floor and the furniture. I wondered what kind of parties Vicky held here. Parties so wild that the participants forgot to take their own clothes home with them.
The place smelled of many bodies; overhanging everything was the stale, used smell of last night's sex.
"You can start by cleaning up," Vicky said, indicating the mess.
"I'm not very good at this kind of thing."
"You'll learn," Vicky smiled. "After all, you're supposed to be a bright boy, a college professor."
"Please don't mock me."
"Why not? I think you like it, way down deep. I don't think you have any confidence in yourself. If you did, you wouldn't be in this fix."
I could think of nothing to say. I began picking up the soiled clothes and stacking them to one side of the room. Most of them, I realized, would have to be burned. Then I began scrubbing the floors, walls, and ceiling. Through it all, Vicky watched me, her face an impassive mask as if she hated herself as much as she hated and secretly despised me. I was suddenly struck with pity, and wished that I could find a way to help her, as I had helped Marcia Long. But, of course, I could not even find a way to help myself.
I finished six hours later. Vicky was still observing me. Although I felt dazed with weariness, my loins ached with desire for her.
"I ... I want you now," I said, trying to, but failing to inject some authority into my voice.
For one terrible moment, I thought she was going to laugh, but she didn't.
"I'm going to the bar for a few drinks," she said. "You have dinner fixed by the time I get back."
There was nothing I could do but obey her. In a few minutes she had washed and was moving out the door. I dragged myself to the kitchen. Obviously I would even have to beg for her body. It was difficult to see through the blur of tears.
My body and spirit had wanted her so badly. Why does she torment me so. She knows how much I need her. She knows how much I care. That was probably why ... she knew. Maybe, if she doubted, she would show more interest. Achh, why should she? She has so many others to fill her needs.
I was her slave, and she knew it. She had me right where she wanted me and there was nothing I could do about it. She didn't have to go out of her way for anything ... why should she go out of her way for me? I was just one of her playthings she kept on the shelf for rainy days.
I am so tired of playing housewife, but what could I do. I need her. I had to be her slave to have her. However, I just never pictured myself in this type of a predicament and it kind of scared me. I never thought anyone in the whole damned world could have such an effect on me, physically or mentally. I was completely lost in confusion.
CHAPTER SIX
The pattern repeated itself through what seemed endless days which stretched into weeks and then, possibly, months. I could not be sure. Time had lost meaning for me. I spent my days washing and cleaning the apartment, fixing meals that Vicky and I ate in silence.
Now that I was completely, irrevocably hers, Vicky seemed to have lost interest in me. I could hardly blame her. I had lost weight. My flesh, once strong and firm, sagged on my bones. I could hardly bear to look at myself in the mirror since my eyes were hollow and had dark rings around them. In her own way, Vicky kept her promise. Occasionally, she gave me her body.
But it was more a rental than a giving. There no longer seemed any enjoyment. Although I still burned with the same passion, perhaps more, since Vicky's body was now the only thing left to me, she was cool, and allowed me to make love to her only out of some weird sense of duty.
Coldly, she stripped and lay back on the bed to let me use her in any way I wanted.
During these rare times, I was all over her, kissing and licking her body, sucking at her as hard as I could. But nothing I could do could make her respond. She would not even touch me. Soon I began playing with myself to heighten my stimulation. Her nipples lay soft and flat on the mounds of her breasts. Nothing I did seemed to have the slightest effect on her. She waited until after I inserted my penis into her vagina and came. Then she would rise from the bed, dress, and go out. She never asked me to go with her.
We never slept together. I don't think she ever slept with any man. She would make love to them, let them use her body but she would allow no one near her when she was sleeping. Perhaps she was more vulnerable when she slept. I don't know. In any case, I had a small alcove to myself, with a rug to sleep on and a small pillow for my head. I was used to retiring early, while Vicky went out for the night. She rarely woke me when she came in.
One night was different. Perhaps the sound of voices woke me. I rolled over on my side and peered out through my curtain. My breath caught in my throat as I saw Jeanie Jones standing in the middle of the room, her arms around Vicky's neck.
I watched as their lips met. They kissed each other hungrily, lips opening and closing against one another as their tongues explored the insides of each other's mouths.
Numbed with shock and passion, I watched as Vicky's hand crept up Jeanie's back, rubbing against the ivory flesh, unsnapping her bra, then bringing her hands around so that they cradled Jeanie's breasts. I reached down and took my stiff penis into my hand.
Vicky had Jeanie's blouse and bra off now. She fondled the red nipples that once I had fondled. Jeanie's head went back. Soft cries of passion issued from her throat. Her hands clutched Vicky's buttocks and her knee worked furiously across Vicky's vagina. Vicky's skirt had ridden up around her waist. I could see the white of her thighs.
Vicky bent over and planted her mouth on one of the ample breasts in front of her. She maneuvered her hand into Jeanie's pants and rubbed the dark triangle. I watched her hunt for Vicky's crevice. Suddenly she thrust her hand upward. Jeanie moaned, grabbed hold of Vicky's waist for leverage, spread her legs, and began to pump the girl. Her cheeks puffed in and out with her sucking efforts. Jeanie writhed in the other woman's embrace.
Vicky removed her mouth from the breasts only long enough to remove her own blouse and bra.
Both girls stood naked to the waist.
They embraced again. Jeanie's finger was still working rapidly. They rubbed their breasts together, Vicky guiding .the touch of the nipples.
Suddenly, as though by some mutual signal, they moved apart.
Vicky reached behind her and switched on a small radio. Both women began moving in time to the music, slowly stripping off the rest of their clothing.
My own mind raced. How had Vicky pulled Jeanie Jones into her orbit? Of course, they had seen each other that fateful day when Vicky had come into my classroom. Jeanie had been looking at Vicky with a lesbian hunger. Vicky must have noticed, and gone back up to the university for her. Or maybe Jeanie had sought Vicky out. In any case, the two were about to make love. I felt a mixture of conflicting sensations.
Naturally, I was excited at the prospect of watching the two women together. At the same time, that part of me which had been a teacher and counselor of youth cried out in protest. True, Jeanie was a very sensual young woman. I had first-hand proof of that. But I wondered if she knew what she was getting into by entering the world of Vicky James. I felt surprised and gladdened to find that the part of me which had once been a professor was still somewhat alive.
But there was nothing I could do. Both women were hot. There seemed no sense trying to interfere with what they were doing. I pulled back the curtain a little wider and watched them continue their love-making.
They stood facing each other stark naked and staring into each other's eyes. Their bodies were remarkably similar. It occurred to rhe that Vicky herself was proof of the importance of mind over the body. After all, the women both looked alike, yet their souls and their personalities were separated by an endless void of good and evil.
Now they stepped in closer. Both reached and grabbed the other's muff.
Crying with passion, they came together, and sank down onto the carpeted floor. Almost at once, Vicky swung around so that her head was facing Jeanie's feet. Jeanie rolled onto her back and spread her legs wide, bringing her knees up almost to her chin.
Vicky positioned herself just above Jeanie's gaping sex. She gave two or three quick thrusts with her fingers, then removed her hand and lowered her head.
Jeanie arched She rocked her back so that her sex came up to meet Vicky's open mouth. They touched with a wet, slapping sound.
From where I lay, I could see the sharp lines of ecstasy etched onto Jeanie's face, transforming it into a grotesque mask. Vicky must have been as expert with women as with men. Jeanie's mouth opened in a silent scream. Her fingers groped in Vicky's hair.
One of Vicky's hands was beneath the girl's buttocks. I knew that Vicky was inserting the tip of her finger into Jeanie's anus. With her other hand, Vicky squeezed and stroked Jeanie's breasts. I watched the rapid movement of her jaws as her tongue thrust and worked inside the girl.
There was a quick movement.
Vicky's knees now straddled Jeanie's head and Jeanie stared, seemingly hypnotized, up into the wet orifice just above her eyes. Slowly, like a child, she reached to touch the new toy. She began stroking the flesh and hair. I could see her hand come away. The fingers glistened.
Still moving slowly, deliberately, Jeanie embraced Vicky's waist and buttocks. I watched the muscles in Jeanie's arms tense as she pulled herself up. Vicky's leg muscles tightened. I could see her backside lowering. Then, like two space ships docking, Vicky's vagina and Jeanie's mouth came together and stayed.
Both women made sucking sounds that were very loud. They rattled around in my head, maddening me. I had already come once. I could feel the sperm building in me anew, demanding to be released.
The women's bodies were one now. Their legs tightened around each other's head. Their backs jerked spasmodically as they reached orgasm.
I closed the curtain and sank back on my own rug, exhausted.
I did not have much time to rest. The curtain was suddenly thrust aside. Vicky and Jeanie stood over me. A look of transcendant triumph lit Vicky's face. Jeanie gasped, and put her hand to her mouth.
I could do nothing but close my eyes in shame, as I struggled to replace my damp, limp penis in my pants.
"I wanted you to meet my servant," Vicky said viciously. "I think you already know him."
"Professor!" Jeanie said, shock still quavering in her voice. "What's happened to you?"
I had sunk to the rock bottom. To be seen in this condition by a former student! Having sunk so low, I found myself with a new, special kind of dignity.
"You shouldn't be here," I said slowly. "The same thing's liable to happen to you."
Vicky snorted. Jeanie's face worked until tears welled in her eyes.
"I've missed you, Professor," Jeanie said. "We've all missed you."
"I've missed you too," I said, feeling my voice crack.
"Oh, c'mon," Vicky said. "You two are breaking my heart."
"You shouldn't talk like that," Jeanie said reprovingly. "Professor Walters was a wonderful teacher."
"I'm not a bad teacher myself," Vicky said. "The professor here is my star pupil."
"You've taught me a lot," I said. "You've taught me to lose my manhood."
Jeanie's tears were rolling down her cheeks. They fell on my thin hands. "Why don't you leave, Professor?"
I could think of no answer, none that Jeanie would understand. I hung my head.
"I'll tell you why the professor won't leave," Vicky said. "He won't leave because he knows he could never find another woman like me. Isn't that right, Professor?"
Vicky was staring into my eyes. I sensed a different mood about her. Her pride was at stake. I summoned up all my courage.
"Maybe that was true at one time," I replied, surprised at the strength in my voice. "I'm not so sure it is anymore. The only thing that's true is that you've sapped all my will power. I'm not a man any more. I don't know what kind of pride you take in keeping me. I'm nothing."
"You're mine!"
Vicky was in a rage. I don't know what she expected me to say, but I had not said it. In a way, I had insulted her, I suppose, in front of Jeanie.
Jeanie now turned to Vicky, her voice tense.
"Why don't you let the professor alone? Haven't you done enough to him already?"
Vicky grabbed Jeanie and kissed her full on the mouth. Taken by surprise, Jeanie struggled, beating at Vicky's back with her small fists. But Vicky's strength had been forged by dozens of fights in bars.
She held Jeanie tight, her tongue working insistently to force Jeanie's mouth open.
Jeanie's struggles began to get weaker. At last, she threw her arms around Vicky's neck. I groaned in despair. And excitement. Vicky was stronger than anybody. Not only physically, but emotionally. Jeanie became the enraptured schoolgirl, lusting after Vicky's body. She had forgotten all about me.
But Vicky hadn't.
Vicky waited until Jeanie's knee began searching for her crotch. Then she pulled away. Still gripping the girl tightly by the waist, Vicky turned to face me. "Let's see if we can't make the poor professor happy," Vicky said, running her tongue over her lips.
"That's impossible," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
My gaze fixed on trembling, passion-swollen breasts; on glistening vaginas. A few moments before I had dreamed of freedom from bondage. Now I thought only of the warm bodies in front of me. I put my palms over my eyes in an attempt to block out their presence. Vicky took my hands firmly in her own and pulled them away. She stood over me, her chest thrust out so that her taut nipples pulsed a few inches from my mouth. I stared at them.
My body quivered. It took me a full second to recognize the source of my excitement. Both of Vicky's hands were on her breasts. It was Jeanie's hand that stroked my penis. I gasped and jerked away. I felt I was losing my mind. One of Vicky's hands came away from her breasts and pinned me to the rug.
"Go ahead, Jeanie," Vicky said.
I glanced down. Jeanie's eyes smouldered with passion. While she fondled my penis and testicles, she was masturbating, thrusting her middle finger into the center of her body, jerking it back and forth.
I closed my eyes to hide my tears and my desire. As always, my passion stripped away even that tiny bit of dignity I had discovered a few moments before. Vicky and I had not made love well for many weeks. Now I saw that her body throbbed with the old heat and desire. Besides that, I had a second partner. Jeanie Jones. Other, stronger men might have found will power to resist the temptation offered by the situation. I could not. My being tingled with lust. I bit my lip.
"Who's the most wonderful woman you've ever met?"
"You are," I said. "Who is the very best teacher?"
"You are, Vicky."
My voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed to satisfy her. She gave a quick nod to Jeanie. I felt the student's tongue flicking over the tip of my penis. My eyelids widened. I jerked my hips. At the same time, I reached out, grabbed one of Vicky's breasts, dragged her down to me.
Her mouth opened and I inserted my tongue into it. Her lips closed over my tongue, sucking it in. Jeanie grabbed my buttocks and thrust me up into her mouth. Her tongue licked along the soft, veined under-surface. I lapped Vicky's mouth away and sucked in one of her nipples. She locked her hands around the back of my head, pushing and urging me on.
My mouth filled with her flesh. I struggled to breathe, flicking the nipple with my tongue. I felt a different sensation on my penis; warmer and wetter. More encompassing.
Jeanie had swung her legs over me, plunged herself down on my erection. I thrust my hips up harder, penetrating her as far as I could. Her fingers grasped my testicles, squeezing them and jiggling them.
Vicky pulled herself out of my mouth. My lips searched for contact. I felt like a fish gasping for air. But I did not have to wait long for something to do with my tongue.
Vicky moved into a position where she could suck Jeanie's breasts, while Jeanie squeezed hers. This accomplished, Vicky raised one leg and swung it over my head.
I shot upwards, snuggling my mouth into her vagina. Her vaginal lips parted at the first pressure of my tongue. In the next instant, I was lapping back and forth, along the red slit.
Vicky squatted hard upon me. Her vagina opened, I thrust my tongue in, licking and sucking the wet walls, finding the clitoris, applying pressure with my lips. My mouth filled with fluid. I turned my head aside just long enough to clear my throat. Then I was back, my tongue and lips inside her.
The room filled with the sounds of passionate sucking. Me sucking Vicky's vagina. Vicky sucking Jeanie's breasts. Loudest of the sounds was the squish of my penis sliding in and out of Jeanie's fiery hole.
Then there was the soft, slapping sound of flesh against flesh as Jeanie madly hit and squeezed Vicky's throbbing breasts.
The cascade of sound seared my brain, driving me mad. I could hold myself in no longer. I gave one last tremendous thrust with my neck, carrying my mouth far into Vicky's body. My lips seized on her clitoris and squeezed. I thrust my hips up off the rug. My tool touched the neck of Jeanie's womb. Both women screamed. I came like I hadn't come for months ... as though it were again the first time with Vicky. A river of white, sticky fluid burst into Jeanie's body, lubricating her insides.
They came at the same time. Vicky twitched spasmodically, then flooded my mouth and face and body with her ooze. I felt the same wetness on my stomach and loins. I knew this was from Jeanie.
Exhausted, I lay back, too weak to reach down and cover myself when Jeanie pulled herself off me.
Languidly, I watched both women dress. I heard Vicky say something about going down to The Dark Hole for a drink. Then they started for the door. Jeanie paused with her hand on the knob. She turned and came back to me, brushing past Vicky's outstretched arm.
Jeanie knelt down beside my bed. Once again, her eyes were soft and filled with compassion.
"I'm sorry I couldn't help you, professor," Jeanie said. "I just wasn't strong enough."
I reached out and touched her cheek. "I know," I said. "Save yourself."
Jeanie's face registered surprise. "There's nothing wrong with me," she said. "I can handle myself all right."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh, sure, I admit Vicky brought out some of my lesbian tendencies. But they must have been there anyway."
"Yes," I said, seeing a dark vision in front of my eyes. It might have been understanding, and I struggled to bring it into focus with my words. "You may have had those lesbian tendencies ... but they didn't come into practice until you met Vicky James. She's evil. She lives entirely in her senses. And that's the source of her corruption. She invites us to share her evil, and most of us accept. I accepted. So did you. You see what's happened to me."
Jeanie pulled back. Over her shoulder, I could see Vicky watching us closely.
"That's nonsense," Vicky said.
"Is it, Jeanie? How long have you been seeing her?"
"Two, three weeks."
"Have you been going to class?"
Jeanie's hand suddenly shot to her mouth. Her eyes clouded. "No," she said weakly. "Vicky said it was a waste of time. I really haven't wanted ... to."
"You see what I mean? She's corrupting you."
Jeanie stiffened. A curtain of aloofness fell over her eyes. "That's nonsense," she said. "I lo ... I mean, I like Vicky. I like the things we do together."
"Has she told you how important it is to live by your senses?" My voice was filled with the horror of recognition. Indeed, Vicky James was pulling Jeanie down into the same sewer I inhabited. I would have given anything to save her, but, of course, I couldn't even save myself.
"Yes," Jeanie said quietly, moving toward me once again. Now it was she who seemed to be asking for help.
Vicky may have sensed this. She came toward us, put her arms around Jeanie from behind, and began to stroke the young student's breasts.
"You're wasting your time listening to this broken-down has-been," Vicky said, giving me a sharp glance.
"He used to be my teacher," Jeanie drawled, closing her eyes and swaying beneath Vicky's expert touch. At that moment, I knew I was helpless before Vicky's sensual powers.
"He may have been your teacher once," Vicky said. "Now he's just my house cleaner."
My face burned with my shame. I glared at Vicky, my eyes burning with hatred and humiliation.
Vicky grabbed Jeanie's shoulders and turned the girl around to face her. "I'll tell you what's the matter with the professor," she said. Jeanie tried to turn away, but Vicky clamped her hands on the girl's cheeks.
"The professor is ashamed of his body," Vicky continued, staring into Jeanie's eyes. "He's always been ashamed of it. But our bodies and our senses are the most important part of us. Most of us don't know how to enjoy them. Certainly, the professor didn't before I taught him.
"But the professor doesn't like anyone to teach him anything, you see. He fights it. And that's his problem. It's his mind. He worries too much about everything, and that's why he looks the way he does now. I had nothing to do with it. I didn't force him to do anything. How could I? I'm only a woman. All I did was to tell him the truth about himself. He did what he had to do, and he can't forgive himself for it. So he's eating himself up inside. You can't blame me for that.
"You don't have to end like that," Vicky continued, cooing to Jeanie. "You can do what you want. You can have me anytime you want. But you shouldn't think about it, like the professor does. Let yourself go. Do what you want to do. Then you'll be all right."
"You'll be ruined, Jeanie," I interjected. "You'll end up like me. Or like one of those creatures down in The Dark Hole. Have you taken a look at them lately?"
"Shut up!" Vicky slapped me sharply across the face.
I felt conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure.
"You see," I said to Jeanie. "I'm telling the truth. She can't stand to hear the truth. That's why she hit me."
"You shouldn't have hit him," Jeanie said reprovingly to Vicky.
"I can't stand to hear such nonsense," Vicky said.
Jeanie slowly turned to survey me. "Why doesn't she look like the others?"
I gazed past Jeanie, into Vicky's face. It was as Jeanie had said. Vicky was ravishingly beautiful. Her face showed none of the ravages one might expect in a young woman totally preoccupied with alcohol, sex and sensation. In a few short weeks, I had gone from a strong, healthy man, to a physical and emotional wreck. It was the same with the others I had seen in The Dark Hole. They were young, but their faces and bodies were old.
"I don't know," I said slowly. "Maybe it's because Vicky is totally evil. She stays beautiful by sucking the life out of others. She's happy only when she's destroying somebody."
Jeanie gasped, as if I'd frightened her.
Vicky's eyes flashed. "Shut up!" she said. "I told you before to shut up!"
Jeanie looked at Vicky questioningly. Vicky seemed to sense this. She stared closely at Jeanie, then moved toward her, reached out and fondled her breast. Jeanie pulled away.
"Don't you want me to touch you any more?" Vicky's voice was sweet and smooth, like warmed honey. Again, her hand touched Jeanie, stroking and squeezing the soft mounds, soothing the girl.
"I ... I just don't know," Jeanie said. But she did not move away from Vicky's touch.
Vicky now had both of her hands on Jeanie's breast, and was kissing her on the nape of the neck.
"You know you don't want to leave me," Vicky whispered. "You know you love me."
Jeanie suddenly grabbed Vicky around the neck and pulled her close.
"No," Jeanie said, her voice trembling. "I don't want to leave you."
I hung my head and sobbed quietly. God help us all, I thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My existence returned to what it had been before Jeanie's visit. I spent most of my waking hours in housekeeping chores and cooking for Vicky. My sex life was reduced almost exclusively to masturbation during those rare times when I could remember how Vicky and I had first made love.
For her part, Vicky paid little attention to me. Only enough to remind me that she was always watching. And she gave me just enough sex to torment my dreams, though she was always cold and mechanical. She seemed to take pleasure in withholding herself from me.
I could hardly recognize my reflection in the mirror. I found myself shaving only once or twice a week. It was the same with my bathing. I washed only when my own stench became too much for me to bear. Once, when I had gone down to the street to empty the garbage, three of my former students passed by without recognizing me. That night, I cried myself to sleep.
One day, while I was emptying the garbage, I looked up and thought I recognized a face out of my past. I was weak from not eating properly, and my eyesight was blurred. My mental functions had slowed to the point where I was no longer sure that I had been anything other than the creature I had become.
So it took me a few moments before I would even dip into my memories. There was too much pain already there. I leaned back against the wall of the building and studied the woman.
She was about five feet five or six, a few inches shorter than myself. Dressed in a Navy blue outfit, with a matching blue handbag and pale blue stockings, she looked out of place in this section of town. I saw that she carried a small piece of paper in her hand, white gloved hands. Every once in a while, she would glance at the paper, then along the street. She might have been lost, or looking for an address.
Her dark hair, the deep, velvet black of night, glistened in the bright sunlight. She wore just a touch of makeup, nor did she need it, for her skin was translucent, pale and without a single blemish. Her full, sensual mouth bore the mark of character. This strength could also be seen in the way she held her head, and the way she carried her lithe, ripe body. She had high cheekbones, and her blue eyes glittered with intelligence.
My wheezing breath whistled in my lungs. My weakened mind struggled to focus on the puzzle of the woman's identity.
Her body was a joy to behold. Her skirt clung to her thighs so that I could just make out the impressions of her garters. Her thin waist flared .full at the chest, erupting in a bulging breastline that made me tremble with excitement.
It was not until she touched her nose with the tip of one finger that the full realization rushed into my consciousness. Tears welled in my eyes. For that split second, I forgot my ruined appearances. I forgot that I had not bathed in a week. I staggered out from the shadow of the building, holding my arms in front of me like a blind man groping forward.
"Barbara?" My voice croaked, and the word was swallowed. "Barbara!"
I walked faster, and staggered across the street.
Barbara Tanner! It had been so many years since I'd seen her! A dream from my childhood. When everything had been gay, and so much simpler. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. The years had given her a voluptuous maturity. But her face was still glowing with the beauty, the special beauty, that springs from innocence and compassion.
"Barbara," I whispered, over and over. "Barbara! Barbara Tanner!"
Barbara looked at me, then backed away, lifting her handbag as if to strike me. The realization suddenly came to me that she thought I was an attacker. Of course, she would never recognize me, not in this condition. I felt as though someone had driven a spike into my heart. I stopped in my tracks, filled my eyes with one last, delicious sight of her, and turned to walk back to my self-imposed prison.
"Daniel? Is that you, Daniel?"
Her voice wafted through the hot afternoon air and city fumes, falling gently on my ears, caressing my mind.
I knew I had no right to turn around and acknowledge her. Suddenly, I realized how I looked, and I was filled with a terrible shame. I could not let Barbara see, me like this. Yet, my legs felt mired in the concrete. Just the sight of Barbara had made me happier than I could ever remember being, certainly happier than I had been since meeting and becoming involved with Vicky.
I felt like a wounded animal. I did not .have the strength to walk away from the vision of happiness that stood a few feet away from me.
My hesitation gave Barbara the chance to approach me.
I offered no resistance when she came up behind me, took me by the elbow and swung me around. She stared into my downcast eyes, then hugged me. If she smelled me, she gave no indication.
"Danny!" Barbara pulled back, but still gripped my elbows. "It is you. I couldn't be sure ... I mean...."
"I know," I said weakly, still not daring to look into her eyes. "Don't apologize."
I wanted to say more, wanted to tell her how happy just her presence made me. But I was too ashamed to do even that. I could only stand in mortified silence, not daring to tell her how unhappy I was or how much I needed her. At the same time, I knew that my duty was to tell her to run as fast as she could away from this place. Barbara was as beautiful as Vicky. More so. If Vicky saw Barbara, her first thought would be to corrupt. Still, I could not speak. I cursed myself for my terrible weakness.
"Danny," Barbara said, weeping now openly at the wretched sight before her. "What's happened to you? For God's sake, are you ill?"
How could I explain? How could I begin? I did not understand it myself. So I could only ask, in a voice quivering with fear, lest this vision of loveliness suddenly disappear: "How did you find me?"
"I was passing through the city. On assignment. I'm a magazine reporter. I'd heard you were teaching at the university and I stopped in to ask about you." She hesitated, as if afraid that she would embarrass me.
I said nothing, but prayed that she would continue talking. Her voice was like cool water on the burning wound of my mind. Finally, she did continue, perhaps sensing that I was beyond embarrassment.
"Anyway," Barbara said, "they didn't want to talk about you at the university."
"I can understand that," I replied quietly.
Barbara stared at me. "I insisted they tell me where you were. They wouldn't tell me what happened to you. I had to find you to make certain you were all right.
"I found a student who told me something about a bar called The Dark Hole. He said I might find you around there." She held up the piece of paper. "I had him write down the address, and I came looking for you. Then I saw that the place was closed, and I didn't know what to do. Then ... you came out. Do you live in this place?"
I nodded. "Right next to the bar," I stumbled over my words. At last I managed to look up into her face. The beauty and compassion I saw there was like the sun, searing my eyes. Suddenly I wanted to confess all, as if doing so would somehow ease the pain in every fiber of my being.
"I wish I could ... explain to you what happened," I said. "I wish I could explain what's happening to me now. But I can't, Barbara, I just can't. It's ... it's been so ... wonderful to see you. You can't imagine. But you have to go now."
"Nonsense," Barbara grasped me firmly by the arm and steered me to the side of the curb where she signaled a passing cab. "The first thing I have to do is get you a decent meal."
I protested weakly. But I was beyond shame. For one thing, Barbara's very presence was intoxicating. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I did not have a throbbing headache. It was as if, through her, I could again glimpse life. The thought of food filled me with a ravenous hunger. I got meekly into the cab beside her.
The driver wrinkled his nose but dared not say anything. Barbara held her head high and flashed a twenty dollar bill. She mentioned a high-priced restaurant that I remembered eating in once at a faculty reception. The cab driver nodded and dropped the flag.
"We can't go there," I said. " ... I know how I look. And I know I'm not ... too clean."
"You let me worry about that," Barbara said gently. "You're a fine man, with one of the sharpest minds in the world. Don't think I hadn't heard of you before all this business started. You deserve the finest. And I'm going to see that you get it."
"But I shouldn't let you ... pay for my food."
Barbara laughed but it was a tender laugh, neither mocking nor cruel. I had forgotten the sound of such a laugh. "Don't you remember when we were in high school?" she said. "You treated me to a real dinner in a real restaurant. We were very young then. I knew you'd been saving up your money for a long time. I've never forgotten that. Now I'm just returning the favor."
"I'll pay you back," I said, wondering where I could ever get another job at anything save washing dishes or collecting garbage.
"Fine," Barbara said lightly. "You pay me back when you get the money."
I settled back in the cab and promptly fell asleep. It was a short sleep, in the middle of a blazing afternoon. But it was peaceful and dreamless. I had not slept like that for months. I awoke to the gentle touch of Barbara's gloved fingers on my cheek.
I got out behind her and turned my head away as she paid the driver.
We approached the door to the restaurant. The doorman took one look at me, then spread his bulk across the doorway as if defending home and family. Barbara moved very close to him. The man still did not shift away from the door.
"What is the meaning of this?" Barbara said in her iciest tone.
The doorman pointed a finger in my direction. "Madam, we can't allow him into our restaurant. He ... well, he's just not dressed properly."
"Do you know who he is?" The doorman shook his head, and Barbara turned to me and winked. Then she said to the doorman, "Let me tell you something; if I have to go to the manager and tell him who this gentleman is, and tell him that you refused us entrance to the restaurant, I doubt that you'll have your job much longer."
The doorman looked me up and down. His nostrils twitched. He must have thought I was some kind of famous eccentric, for he finally removed himself from the doorway and let us pass. Barbara went through the same routine with the Maitr'd. In a few minutes, we were sitting at a linen-decked table with fine crystal and silver.
Barbara looked at me and began to giggle. I felt laughter bubbling up inside myself and I let it out. We both sat, convulsed with laughter as the waiters and wine stewards hurried about us, taking our order and seeing that everything was in order for Barbara and her famous eccentric ... whoever he was.
It was the first time I had laughed in all these many months of bondage.
I ate my way through three complete dinners. I would finish one and Barbara, seeing that I was still famished, would order me another. We ordered dessert and coffee when I sat back, at last, my belly filled to bursting.
We talked. Now conversation became easier. I felt alive once again. Pulled back from the grave. I could begin to relate to other people. It was a marvelous feeling.
Barbara told me that she was not married. After high school, the last we had seen each other, she had devoted all her time to journalism. After graduation she had landed a job with a top fashion magazine and was now one of their writers. She said she had thought of me many times but had not known where I was until recently when she had seen a small article about me in the paper.
Somehow, I managed to tell Barbara what had happened, about the struggle between my reason and Vicky James' sensuality. Again, I felt waterlogged with shame, but I did manage to finish the story, leaving none of the gory details out.
"I don't understand how you could let a woman do that to you," Barbara said, shaking her head, brushing away her tears with the tip of a handkerchief. "You have such a wonderful mind. You're so rational. How could you have allowed a woman to drag you down into the sewer?"
"Vicky is different from other women," I said. "She's corrupt. But she's beautiful. It is very hard to resist her. I couldn't. I'm such a weakling."
Barbara shook her head. "No, you're not. But you were innocent. And you were decent. You are decent. I can tell you haven't really changed simply by looking into your eyes. You've had a bad time, but you still have the strength of character to pull out of it."
I hung my head and told her I did not believe this was true. I told Barbara about the time I had tried to leave, and had failed.
As I talked, I found that my senses were reawakening. I became conscious of Barbara's perfume ... and her body. I was sitting at such an angle that I could see her crossed legs. She had perfect ankles, calves and knees. Her skirt had ridden up over her thighs, but Barbara, all of her attention on me, did not seem to notice it. I could just see a small strip of white flesh above the tops of her stockings. Her suit jacket was unbuttoned, and her breasts thrust out against the confines of bra and sweater. How different she looked from the high school days when we had clumsily made love!
I wanted her. Perhaps I would have given anything in the world at that moment to possess her. Only with Barbara did I feel the same intense passion and desire that I had felt with Vicky. Perhaps, I thought, it was because Barbara was the exact opposite of Vicky. Compassionate and decent, where Vicky was cruel and corrupt. But I knew my dream was hopeless. Even if it were somehow possible for me to have Barbara, I would not take her. I didn't deserve a woman like Barbara. Not after the fall I had taken. Barbara was my one decent memory. I would not soil it for anything.
But, of course, that was no problem. What would Barbara want with a broken wreck of a man like me? She was doing what she was doing out of pity, and in tribute to the past. I meant nothing to her.
"But why don't you just leave?" Barbara said.
I shrugged my shoulders. "I tried, but I couldn't. It's as if Vicky has a chain around my soul. Every time I make up my mind to leave, she begins to undress, or excite me in some other way. I just don't have the strength to resist her."
"And she's that beautiful?"
"Yes," I said. "She's ... almost as beautiful as you."
Barbara flushed. She pulled her skirt back down over her thighs. I wondered if she knew I had been watching, and if she was angry with me for desiring her body. If she was angry, she gave no sign.
"Daniel Walters," her tone was playfully harsh. "You are not some slum girl's houseboy. You're a man. You are not a bum. You are a college professor! And you're not a burned-out hulk who lives through his senses. You're a brilliant man. You are going to leave this woman and go back to your teaching. Is that clear?"
I shook my head slowly. "I've tried, I tried before when I was stronger, and I couldn't do it. How could I do it now? Besides, even if I did leave, I don't think they'd take me back at the university. I ... there was a terrible scene in my classroom the day I left." I told her about what happened the day Vicky came to get me.
Barbara shook her head. "Even so," she said, "when I talked to them up there, I got the definite impression that they would be glad to have you back ... if you could shake free from this thing that possesses you. You were one of their finest teachers and they know it. Your students miss you."
"Nobody can break away from Vicky. I think she might even ... hurt you, if she saw you. Women are attracted to her, as well as men."
Barbara snorted, and rose from the table. I could see that she had left another twenty dollar bill to pay for our meal.
"Come on," Barbara said.
"Where are we going?" The food had renewed my strength, as had Barbara's presence. But I knew she must go and already I missed her.
"My apartment," Barbara said. "We have to get you cleaned up."
I stopped. It took all my strength to shake my head no. It was an act of will I had not thought I was capable of exerting.
"No," I said when I was finally able to find my voice. "You can't do that. You must have a plane to catch."
"I can do it, and I will. My plane left half an hour ago. I have a few days vacation coming to me, and I'm going to take them. We'll go back to my apartment. Get some of that dirt washed off you. Also, I have some men's clothes that I was carrying for a buyer I know. You can have them now, and send me the money when you have it."
"Barbara," I said, "I don't need your pity. I don't want your pity."
I had hurt her and I felt her own pain in me like a stiletto. "I don't pity you, Danny," she said. "We were friends once. I hope we're still friends. You shouldn't be afraid to let a friend help you."
"I ... I'm afraid for you. You don't know Vicky or her friends. They'll hurt you ... or worse."
Barbara drew herself up and thrust her chin out proudly. "I can take care of myself, Danny. And you'll be able to also, once you get back on your feet."
She believed it. She believed it with such fervor that I almost believed it. I almost believed it myself.
We went to Barbara's hotel. She was staying in the penthouse and, as I looked out over the city, I wondered how I could ever have sunk so low as to become Vicky's servant. Up here it didn't make any sense, but then, of course, Vicky was not up here to torment me with her body.
Barbara filled an oversized tub with water just a few degrees (or so I thought) below boiling. She turned her back while I jumped in. Then she scooped up my clothes, and I heard the distant clang of the incinerator chute open and close.
Barbara came back into the bathroom and leaned against the doorjamb, smiling at me. She looked absolutely lovely. I could feel my penis stiffening beneath its cover of suds and water. But I tried to think of other things. For I knew that Barbara was too good for me. I would not insult her by making any advance, nor defile her by asking her to take my worn, used body into hers.
The bath felt wonderful. The hot water and rising steam penetrated every pore of my body, flushed out the months of grime and alcohol and filth. Barbara turned her back. I drained and rinsed the tub, filled it again, and started all over. The second tubful of water was almost as dirty as the first. But I felt cleaner, pounds lighter. Most surprising of all, I was beginning to feel decent and human.
Barbara knelt beside me and scrubbed my back and neck. I squirmed under her touch, felt myself swell so that I had to lean forward in the water to prevent my organ from jutting above the surface of the water.
At last I was finished. Barbara left me a silk bathrobe, then turned and walked from the room. I showered off in stinging cold water, and toweled myself with a huge Turkish towel. Finally I smoothed my hair with a comb she had left on the sink, dressed in the robe, and stepped out from Barbara's bathroom.
"Well," Barbara said, raising her eyebrows, "you're beginning to look like the Daniel Walters I used to know. You're still a little thin, though. We'll have to fatten you up. How would you like a steak for dinner?"
I was filled with an overwhelming urge to take Barbara into my arms. I felt empty, and lonely, despite the fact that this beautiful woman out of my past had cared for me in every way possible.
Perhaps my despair rose from the realization that soon Barbara would be gone. If not today, tomorrow. If not this week, then the next. Then there would be Vicky waiting for me. Waiting to drag me back into the sewer Barbara had so recently plucked me from.
"Danny," Barbara said, "why do you look like that?"
My answer was to burst into tears, and throw myself down onto the bed. Perhaps, I imagined, Barbara was not real; that she was a vision conjured by Vicky. Certainly, Barbara's closeness was a torture that Vicky might have thought up.
"I can't explain," my words were muffled by the bedspread. "It's been so long since I've talked to anyone decent. I just don't know what to do. I feel so ... empty."
Barbara's hand was like a cool cloth on the back of my neck. Her lips soft as a flower behind my ear.
I turned onto my side. I could see where Barbara's skirt had ridden up over her thighs and was now bunched around her hips. Her flesh was lovely. My excitement became heightened by the view of the tops of her blue stockings.
She made no move to pull her skirt down. Instead, she took my hand in hers, and placed it on her knee.
"Fill yourself with me," Barbara whispered. "You won't feel lonely any more."
My senses reeled. By some gigantic effort of will, I kept my hand still.
"I ... I can't, Barbara. I'm not worthy of you. That's giving too much. I can't accept that. I wouldn't be any kind of a man at all if I let you give yourself just to save me."
Her hand, still on top of mine, moved it insistently up her leg.
She kissed my ear. "I'm not giving you anything, Daniel. Perhaps I'm lonely too. You're an old friend. If you desire me, I'd like to share my love." She ended by blowing gently inside my ear.
Shuddering with anticipation, I turned so that I faced her. My robe fell open. My trembling rod was completely exposed. Barbara stared at it for a moment, her eyes glistening. Then she reached over and stroked it. A tiny droplet of semen appeared at the tip. She brushed it away with a soft fingertip.
"I'm glad I still excite you, Daniel," Barbara said. "You can come anytime you want."
But I did not want to come. Not yet. For some reason, I wanted to give Barbara something too. An orgasm just as explosive as the ones I had shared with Vicky. I tried my best to ignore the surging pressure building up inside me, and concentrated on Barbara's body. I wanted to excite and stimulate her to powerful orgasm.
I left one hand on her thigh, and with the other began to stroke her breasts. For her part, Barbara kept her hand on my penis and with the other, unbuttoned her blouse. It moved off her shoulders with the slippery sound made only by raw silk.
She wore a slip. Using both hands, I eased the straps down until her chest was completely exposed. Barbara continued to stroke my stiff member. Her eyes were closed, her mouth drawn into a rapturous smile. It suddenly occurred to me that Barbara had been telling me the truth. She was lonely. That meant I was also giving her something that she wanted and needed. The realization gave me new strength and confidence.
"I love you, Barbara." The words popped out without my being aware of them. I became terrified that Barbara would think I had said them without meaning. Not until that moment did I realize that I had always loved Barbara. The words had been my unconscious, true self, speaking.
Barbara sighed and stroked my testicles. "I know, Danny," she said. "I love you too. I always have."
Now there were no words to express what I felt. There were only actions. Quickly, I unhooked her bra and sat back to watch the two firm white globes spring free from their confinement. I stared, transfixed, spell-bound, by their soft beauty, It was Barbara who finished removing the bra. Then she put her hands beneath her breasts and held them up, offering them to me.
"I'm yours, Danny. My body is yours to do with as you want."
I leaned forward and touched one of the swollen nipples with the tip of my tongue. Barbara shuddered and moved closer to me, still holding her breasts in her hand. But now her grip was firmer. She circled two fingers around one nipple, as if offering to help me take it into my mouth.
I licked it, then opened my lips and sucked it in, moving my head in time with the movements of Barbara's body. She held just the one breast now, while with the other hand she reached down and pulled my penis, alternately squeezing my testicles.
Her nipple moved easily in my mouth. Barbara's flesh, indeed, tasted sweet, the nectar from some exotic fruit. I would have done anything to please her, or to increase her excitement.
Still sucking on the nipple, I began to pull the other nipple back and forth with my fingertips, as if I were masturbating her breast. Barbara moaned. I decided that she liked it, and increased my motions.
I happened to glance down. Her skirt was well up around her waist. I could see blue nylon panties stretched taut over her swollen sex. The panties were wet now. The dark pubic hair in her crotch was clearly visible.
I put one hand down into her panties and pressed my palm against her vagina. I felt the muscles moving inside her body, forcing out the juices. She flowed easily as her orgasm went into its second and third wave. I pressed harder. Barbara spread her legs across the bed.
I felt her vaginal lips spread outward. The sensation of wet hair changed to that of soft, slippery flesh. Her vagina was exposed. I slowly rubbed my middle finger up and down the groove, thrilling as I felt the flesh move beneath my touch. Finally, at the exact moment when a new wave of fluid swept down into my palm, I thrust my first, second, and third fingers into her body. Barbara moaned. She thrust her hips forward, so that my fingers went up into her, almost to the last knuckle. There was plenty of room left. She drew her knees up toward her chin. I managed to insert my little finger and the tip of my thumb.
This gave me the freedom to explore her insides, to stroke her vaginal walls and clitoris. I did so, moving my hand gently and skillfully. At the same time, I kept up my sucking of her nipple. In spite of her considerable excitement. Barbara's touch remained skillful and sure on my penis.
"Take your hand out for a moment," Barbara whispered into my ear. "I want to go down on you. I want to feel you in my mouth."
I removed my hand from her vagina. It made a loud, sucking sound, like someone escaping from quicksand. Then I gave her nipple one last squeeze with my lips and tongue, and lay back on the bed.
Barbara placed her own hand on her crotch, then swung up on her knees and bent over my stiff organ. She grabbed it with two fingers at the base and straightened my member so that it pointed up into the air. Then she took the soft, sensitive tip into her mouth and began to move up and down on it, at the same time forming a tight ring with her thumb and forefinger, drawing this up and down the stalk. My skin tingled with strange, new sensations. I could feel the tip of her tongue floating back and forth across the tip of my rod. I shuddered. Slowly, sucking hard so as to magnify the sensation, she brought her mouth down farther and farther. She did not choke. In a few moments, she had taken me almost entirely on her own hand and fingers while, with her other hand, she stroked my testicles.
I could not withstand the pressure in my loins any longer. Wrapping my fingers in her hair and crying out, I arched my back and shot my load into her mouth. Barbara jerked once or twice. I saw a great quantity of fluid run down over her wrist and splash onto the bed. She wiped her mouth, swallowed, and sat back.
I came up, wrapped my arms around her body and hugged her tightly to me, at the same time whispering in her ear.
"Thank you, darling," I breathed. "I love you so much."
"You've been through such a terrible ordeal, Danny," Barbara said. "I just want you to be happy, and to know that I love you."
I felt completely reborn. It was Barbara who had brought this about, this change. I did not allow myself to think of what might happen when she left me.
"I don't want to stop," I said. "Do you?"
"No, darling."
"I'm ready again."
I was. Even without stimulation, my penis was thick, quivering with tension.
"Go ahead," Barbara said. "Do what you want." Her last words were swallowed deep in her throat. Her head, already thrown back, exposed her breasts to my gaze, and my mouth. I touched the nipples, waiting for them to spring to life beneath my hand. Then I sank down between her legs.
Barbara gasped as I slipped her panties off, entwined my fingers in her garter belt, and spread her legs. The pubic hair slid aside, like the opening of a velvet curtain. Her pink slit glistened.
First, I raised my head up inside the folds of her skirt and kissed her stomach, gradually working my head around to a position where I could kiss, lick and suck her navel. Barbara squirmed uncontrollably. I fastened my arms around her waist and held her close to me. She was perspiring heavily. I held on tightly as she bucked beneath the movements of my mouth.
At last I slid all the way down and, after raising her hips with the pressure of my forearms, slipped my mouth over that delicious, running red gap in her body. Barbara made a choking sound and grabbed hold of my head. At the same time, she reached behind her and grabbed both pillows. These she used to prop up her hips. In a few seconds, her hips were high in the air, her legs back, spread and waving in the air, offering the center of her being to me. Her vagina was wide and welcoming.
Once again locking my hands in her garters, I scooped down with my mouth and took in her lips. Sucking and licking them, my saliva mixed with the love juices flowing from her body.
"My God, Danny! Don't stop! I've never felt anything like this!"
Neither had I. Not even with Vicky. I had not known anything could be like this. I sucked harder, sending my tongue deep into her cavity. The walls of her vagina closed over my mouth, sucking it with a movement of their own, holding tight. I licked back and forth. Even the tension at the root of my tongue was pleasurable and sent sensations coursing through my body. I found the hard knot of her clitoris and wrapped my tongue around it. Barbara responded by rocking back and holding her legs apart with her hands. A garter snapped, hitting me across the face. The stinging pain was delightful. I probed deeper with my tongue, as far as I could extend it.
The memory of Barbara's mouth on my penis was so strong that I could literally feel it there, warm and wet and sucking. I moved my hips back and forth in time to the fantasy lips.
"In me, Danny," Barbara managed to say. Her voice sounded strangled. "Put yourself inside me! I want to feel it there!"
I gave her vaginal lips one last strong suck, then straightened up and went up on my knees.
I held the tip of my organ just inside her vaginal opening, intending to stimulate Barbara even further before finally thrusting home. But there was no time.
Using the pillow as a fulcrum, Barbara swung herself up into a squatting position. She flung her arms around my neck, and slipped down over my penis. In a split second, I was in her up to the hilt, bucking as Barbara locked her legs around my middle and swung her hips. Her nipples pressed against my chest as she clung to me, refusing to let go even when I shot a tremendous stream of semen into her.
She relaxed for a moment, then gave a tremendous surge. I felt the muscles in her vagina contract. Barbara had yet another orgasm. It was her fourth or fifth. I was not sure which. I had lost count.
As for myself, I had immediately stiffened and was coming again. The room smelled of our love. It was a delicious odor, spreading through the air and delighting my nostrils.
At last Barbara let go of my neck. She fell back on the bed, slipping easily off my penis. I fell down on top of her. We lay there for long moments, locked in each other's arms. I planted my lips on the soft flesh of her neck and stayed there, drinking in the smell of her body.
I felt exhilarated. At last I was completely free from the strange shackles that had bound me. Liberated. For the first time, I felt strong enough to resist the force of Vicky's sensuality. I had succeeded; I had had an orgasm which was equal-if not greater-than anything I had experienced with Vicky. I suspected that Barbara had also enjoyed the most explosive orgasm of her life. The smile on her face told me so.
I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke, my skin was tingling, as if Barbara had given me a sponge bath while I slept. My hair had been combed back and spicy cologne splashed over my body. I was covered with a cool, silk sheet. I sniffed. My stomach churned with the delicious odor of steak broiling.
I dressed in a set of high-fashion sport clothes that I found spread out on a chair beside me. Then I went into the kitchen where Barbara was preparing dinner.
She was dressed in an oriental pants suit of the finest silk. Her hair was brushed back and secured in a pony tail. Her scent was lovely and rose above the odor of the food and made me dizzy. Barbara was truly a vision of loveliness. I wondered how I had managed to live all these years without her. Once again my mind boggled at the thought of her going away, back to the demands of her job.
I erased this from my mind by going up to her and encircling her waist with my arms, planting my lips on her neck.
Her back had been to me. She jumped and shivered with delight. My hands came up under her breasts. I realized, with a sudden thrill, she was wearing no bra. Her breasts moved easily under my touch, sliding back and forth beneath the silk pajamas. The nipples hardened. I slipped one hand under her top and began squeezing.
Barbara reached in back of her and her hand touched my hard penis. Then she pulled away, laughing. But it was gentle, kind laughter, laced with passion. She turned to me, her eyes dark with desire and blew me a kiss. I started across the room but she raised her arms in mock surrender.
"If you don't want this steak to burn," Barbara said, "you'd better let me watch it."
"Man does not live by bread alone," I quipped, following her with my eyes.
"Well, I'm just not going to let this steak burn." She looked at me, then sighed, removing her pajama top. Her breasts hung out before my eyes. "All right," Barbara said playfully, "have your fun."
I followed her around the kitchen, teasing her and toying with her breasts as she finished preparing the meal. After a while, I was content to sit and smoke and watch her naked breasts jiggle as she moved around the kitchen. Barbara was aware of my attention and obviously enjoyed it. Her skin glowed with a healthy, constant flush. Occasionally she would glance over at me. Then her face lit with a gentle smile.
"I like to have you look at me," she said.
Finally the dinner was prepared and we sat down. Barbara was not only a beautiful career woman, she was an accomplished cook. I ate ravenously, as if I could make up for the months I had starved myself in one or two huge meals. I could feel my stomach fill and still I continued eating. I could not remember having enjoyed a meal more.
We finished with cherries jubilee and coffee. Barbara had dressed for dinner. Now she saw me staring at her bosom as I sipped at my coffee.
"Do you want me to take off my top again?"
"And the bottoms.'"
Without a moment's hesitation, Barbara stood and stripped off her pajamas. Then she stepped out, away from the table so that I could stare at her nakedness.
"The dishes can wait," Barbara said, her tone husky with passion. "Let's go to bed."
I nodded eagerly and jumped up to hurry after Barbara who was already on her way into the bedroom. I was no longer afraid. I felt confident that I had been cured of my sickness, and excited beyond words at the discovery that I could make a woman like Barbara happy.
I was strong and sure, and we made love for hours. Finally, I showered and Barbara dressed me in silk pajamas. I crawled under the covers beside her and was asleep in a matter of seconds. A rich, dreamless sleep, free of the nightmares that had been my companions for these many months.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I awoke to the intoxicating odor of frying eggs and bacon. It seemed as if I would never stop being hungry. I hopped out of bed and stared at myself in the mirror. Already, I could see that my emaciated frame was beginning to fill out. I did a few deep knee bends, dressed and hurried to the kitchen where Barbara was making breakfast.
We ate in comfortable silence. Both of us recalled the night before. We looked into each other's eyes and blushed happily. Barbara was smiling for some other reason, too. I could not guess why, but I knew there was something on her mind. She was acting like a small child trying to keep a secret, and not doing a very good job of it.
"All right," I said at last with mock seriousness, "what are you thinking?"
Barbara jumped up from the table. She flung her arms around my neck. She kissed me on the forehead.
"I have an appointment with the chancellor for eleven o'clock."
I felt confused. "Why does the chancellor want to see you?"
"He doesn't want to see me, silly," Barbara said lovingly. "He wants to see you. I just set up the appointment."
I sat, stunned. At last I found my voice. "Do you think I'm ... ready?"
"Of course," Barbara said. "You'll be fine. I think you're all over your infatuation. Hurry now, and get dressed. We'll be late."
I wondered. I wondered if I were ready to try to get my job back. I wondered if infatuation was the right word to describe my feelings toward Vicky. But I dressed and tried to keep my hands from trembling as we took a cab up to the university.
The interview went quickly. The chancellor was very gracious and seemed glad to see me. He urged that I come back to the university to teach.
I accepted.
I asked if I could start the following Monday, which was four days away, and he agreed. He said my students were very anxious that I come back.
My heart filled with joy as Barbara and I walked hand in hand out of the building and down the tree-shaded walks of the campus. I clung to Barbara, as if she might vanish if I let go. I felt as if she had saved my life.
Then Vicky James stepped out from the side of a building, blocking our path.
I heard myself gasp. I could feel the blood drain from my face.
"So," Vicky's voice was heavy with contempt. "This is your new girl friend."
Dressed in her black leather outfit, she also carried her riding crop. I thought that if she dared to touch Barbara with that leather thong, I would, strike her, or worse. At the same time, I could feel my knees going weak. Vicky seemed so confident, so sure of herself. As before, her skirt was very short. I could see the tops of her stockings and her curious leather garters. A familiar sexual thrill ran through my body. Her snowy breasts bulged from beneath their skimpy leather covering. I could just make out the edge of her luscious red nipples. My penis stood hard as brick.
Vicky surveyed me. She noticed my erection and indicated it with the point of her whip. She laughed.
"I still get you pretty excited, don't I, professor?"
I averted my eyes, but it was Barbara who spoke, stiffening my spine.
"Don't look down like that, Danny! You're a man. Of course the sight of a half naked woman is going to excite you." She looked at Vicky. "What'd you expect, honey?"
Vicky flushed angrily. She was not used to Barbara's haughty manner and it annoyed her. Her hand tightened on the riding crop. I tensed. Barbara threw her shoulders back and glared defiantly at Vicky. Vicky hesitated, then put the hand with the riding crop behind her back. Again, she looked toward me.
"At least you've been taking good care of him," Vicky said. There was a strange note in her voice, midway between anger ... and jealousy. I wondered if it were possible that Vicky could have any affection for me and still treat me as she had. But then I had heard of small children fondling their pets to death, simply because they did not know how to take care of them. I wondered if this was the case with Vicky. She did not really know how to love a man.
"How did you find us?" I asked, pleased that my voice was deep and strong.
Vicky looked disappointed, and even a little hurt. That I had begun to rediscover my manhood was somehow an insult to her.
"C'mon, Professor," Vicky said. "You couldn't sneeze in my neighborhood without someone telling me about it. Down there, where you were, I'm queen. Somebody told me about the pretty woman coming to get you. And I knew that sooner or later you'd be back up here. So I waited for you. And here lam."
Barbara met Vicky's steady glance. "We can see that you're here. We can smell your cheap perfume. The question is, why are you here?"
Vicky brought her whip up over her head and shifted her weight. The leather swung halfway down its arc when Vicky suddenly stopped her movement, brought up short by the sound of Barbara's voice.
"If you try to hit me with that thing," Barbara said, "I'll break your wrist." She paused, looking into Vicky's eyes. Her voice had a sharp edge. "I assure you I can do it," she continued icily. "I have a black belt in Judo and Karate."
"Your name is Barbara, isn't it?" Vicky said cautiously. "One of my friends heard the professor call out your name."
"Yes," Barbara said evenly. "My name is Barbara. And your name is Vicky James. I've heard all about you." Barbara's voice was now laced with scorn, and Vicky flinched, as if from a physical blow. "I asked what you wanted. We're in a hurry."
"You're in a hurry?" Vicky said incredulously. She seemed lost for words, as if by taking away her power to use her whip, she had been deprived of her ability to communicate. "You can have any man. The professor is mine."
"Daniel belongs to nobody," Barbara said. "He's a man who's been through a bad time. But that's all over now. He's cured."
Vicky glanced away from Barbara. Then she looked at me. Slowly, she walked up to me, swinging her hips and thrusting out her chest. She stopped a few inches away from me, took my hand deliberately and placed it on her bulging breast. A hundred yards away, a group of students stopped and began whistling.
"Is it true, Professor? Is it true that you don't belong to me any more?" She pressed my hand harder against her breast. I could feel the nipple harden beneath my touch. "Think about it, Professor. Don't you want me to wrap my lips around your penis any more? Don't you want to explore my body?"
She moved even closer, and shoved her hip into my crotch, grinding into me. Her eyes burned with passion. Barbara stood to one side, watching us quietly. I could feel her gaze boring into me though she said nothing.
This was the moment I had feared most. Somehow, now that it was here, it was not as bad as I had expected. True, I desired Vicky. But it was also true, as Barbara had said, that I was a man and quite naturally excited by a half-naked woman. And I belonged to no one. Nothing would make me go through that hell again.
I took my hand away from her breast and put my hands on Vicky's shoulders. I pushed her away from me. Vicky seemed stunned.
"It's true, Vicky," I said as gently as possible. My lust had been replaced by a searing pity. "There's nothing between us. There never was anything but sick lust."
Vicky shook her head in disbelief.
"I'm sorry for you," I said. "You don't know what it is to really love somebody." I shot a quick glance at Barbara who smiled at me and nodded encouragement. "I think you're sick," I continued. "I think you should see a doctor. I bear you no ill will, but I don't ever want to see you around here again. If I do, I will call the police. What's more, I'll tip them off to those little parties you have over at The Dark Hole. How long do you think it would take them to close that place down and arrest a few of your friends?"
Vicky stared at me strangely. "You really mean it, Professor? Do you really think you can do without me?"
"I'm sure I can, Vicky. It's all over. Your School of Lust is closed down, at least as far as I'm concerned."
"Well," Vicky said, "we'll see about that." She gave a little waving swing with her hand.
I grabbed Barbara's arm and tried to walk around Vicky.
I ran directly into a huge arm that banged into my throat and knocked the breath out of me. I looked up into the face of the giant I had seen at the orgy above The Dark Hole. I struggled, kicking at him and swinging with my fists but he held me in his arms, as a child might hold a rag doll. I was completely powerless against his strength, and I could feel myself losing consciousness from the strangle hold he had on me.
I looked around for help, but the group of students had left the moment I had pushed Vicky away. There was no one in sight. The giant dragged me back into the shadow of the building.
I could see Barbara, as if through a red haze, fighting off three or four assailants. Her arms and legs flew but there were too many attackers. Soon she too was overwhelmed. I felt my stomach turn as I watched the woman who had gone down on the bottle fumbling beneath Barbara's blouse, squeezing her breasts.
It was the last thing I saw, as I slipped into unconsciousness.
I swam up through a black fog and finally emerged into light. I tried to move. Pains shot through my wrists and ankles. I saw that I was bound hand and foot, fastened to the steam pipe in the room above The Dark Hole. The sun was just setting. Shadows slashed across the floor like guillotine blades.
I turned my head. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Barbara hanging in the same position. She was still unconscious. Her skirt had been torn away so that the bottom half of her was covered only with her panties, garter belt and torn stockings.
Struggling against my bonds, I succeeded only in causing the thick ropes to dig deeper into my flesh. I stopped fighting them and tried to think.
The pain was no longer giving me pleasure. At least that made me happy. I was cured. My ability to stand up to Vicky had been no fluke. I had Barbara to thank for my liberation.
Immediately I felt a stab of guilt. Barbara had given me back my life and I had succeeded in delivering her into the hands of Vicky and her friends. If only I had insisted that Barbara leave me, this might not have happened. But guilt would accomplish nothing but regret. I had to find some way to get us out of the room.
It appeared hopeless. The ropes had apparently been tied by the giant. There seemed no way to wriggle out of them. I fought against the waves of despair that threatened to engulf me.
Barbara started to stir. I looked over at her. Finally her eyelids fluttered.
"I'm sorry, darling," I said. "I got you into this."
Barbara shook her head. "It wasn't your fault." She smiled. It seemed to light the room, and the interior of my soul. "Besides," she said, "it was worth it to see you like this, proud and free again. This is the way I always thought of you."
"Well, I'm not so sure it's going to do us any good. If you think that Vicky's weird, wait till you see her friends."
"I'm not afraid," Barbara said. "I know you'll find a way to get us out of here."
Her quiet faith filled me with confidence and strength. But it did not give me a plan. I decided it was better to stay quiet and marshal my strength. I took deep breaths, trying to get air back into my tortured lungs. I wondered when someone was going to show up. I did not think we were simply going to be left to starve. At least, I hoped not. Vicky's soul was tortured, but I did not believe she was capable of murder.
We did not have to wait long. A door creaked over to the left, beyond my vision. A moment later, Vicky stood before us.
She wore tight black toreador pants, jet black stockings, and high heels. She was naked to the waist. Her nipples thrust out at me defiantly, two red boats sailing on a sea of ivory flesh. I could feel a distinct burning sensation in my loins. I tried to look disinterested but only half-succeeded. Yet that was enough to infuriate Vicky. She had become accustomed to feverish burning in my eyes any time she exposed her body to me.
"What's the matter with you?" Vicky's voice shrilled at the edge of hysteria. "Don't you like these boobs any more? You liked them fine when they were the only ones you had to suck on!"
"I'm sorry, Vicky," I said. "It won't work any more. There's nothing you can say that will change my feelings."
"No?" Vicky raised her eyebrows. She slipped her fingers into the waistband of her toreadors. She paused on the single zipper holding them up. "We'll see."
With one quick movement, she yanked the zipper down. A second later, she had the slacks down around her ankles. She slowly stepped out of them and stood close to me.
Now dressed only in sheer black panties, stockings, high heels and garter belt, she snapped her garters, then began to dance back and forth in time to music that only she could hear. Her flesh quivered delightfully beneath her panties. As she danced, her high heels clicked on the wooden floor. She fondled her breasts, squeezing them hard and causing them to swell. Obviously, she had reached a very high pitch of excitement. I wondered if she would be dangerous.
Surprisingly, I found myself only moderately excited. I had a huge erection, but my mind did not swim, the way it always had when Vicky had done something like this. I wanted to feel my penis slide in her. In fact, my testicles were aching. But now it was purely a physical thing. I no longer felt mentally enslaved by her sensuality. She was simply another woman. My concern and fear for Barbara completely dominated my thinking.
Vicky seemed to sense this and redoubled her efforts.
First, she stopped moving around the room. Then she planted herself directly in front of me. Still moving in time to some silent music, she picked up the tempo, jerking her chest violently.
Her breasts flopped up and down, making strange slapping sounds which seemed to increase her excitement. A different movement of her body sent the globes of flesh swirling around in circles. The nipples spun, mesmerizing me. Sweat was running down her body in thick rivulets. Her hair fell across her face.
Suddenly she stopped.
"What's the matter with you?" She reached forward and touched the head of my stiff penis. I did not move, although I wanted to.
"Do you call that a hard-on? I remember when all I had to do was flick my tits and you'd come in your pants. What kind of a man are you?!"
"A real man," Barbara interjected quietly. "That's the point you can't see. There is no true enjoyment to sex without love."
"Goddamn it, I enjoy sex any time. I enjoy any kind of sex."
"That's lust."
"We'll see."
In one swift motion, Vicky stripped off her black panties and lay down on her back with her feet pointing in my direction. Slowly, watching my face carefully, she began to spread her legs. Her hair covered vagina gradually came into view. She stopped with her legs a few inches apart.
"You want to see some more?"
"You're going to catch cold," I said. But my voice was tense, and Vicky noticed it.
"You do want to see some more. Okay, here goes!"
Now Vicky spread her legs completely apart. The silky pubic hair parted its strands, exposing her pink vaginal lips. As I watched, her excitement increased. The lips, engorged with desire, swelled and parted until I could see the red tissue beyond. Tiny droplets of moisture were beginning to form inside her, dripping out of the crevice and beading in her hair. Her hips twitched spasmodically. Even as my desire increased, so did my pity. This woman writhing on the floor knew no way of communicating with people, except through her body.
"Tell me, Professor, do you want to suck on it? You always liked that."
"I'll suck on it," I said. "I'll suck on it if you'll let Miss Tanner go."
Vicky's face flushed with anger. "What do you think you're going to do; do me a favor?! You son-of-a-bitch. I'll show you who needs favors now!"
Vicky's movements and talking had only served to increase her own lust. She reached down into her crotch, closed her eyes, and began to rub her hand back and forth.
Barbara and I could do nothing but watch in stunned silence. It was as though Vicky had forgotten about our presence and was interested only in gratifying her own burning need.
She raised her hand a few inches from her body, stiffened her middle finger, and suddenly jabbed it into herself. A low groan tore from her throat as she thrust her fingers in and out. Soon she had inserted her index finger and ring finger as well. Her hips jerked. Her black-stockinged legs swung up into the air as she sought to thrust her fingers in deeper. Her juices flowed freely, forming glistening droplets on the floor.
In a few minutes, she was finished. She'd had two or three orgasms. The floor was stained with her love. Vicky slowly removed her fingers, slipped on her pants and stood up. A dark ring formed in the crotch of her panties where her body fluids continued to seep. She looked from Barbara to me, trying to understand why we were not affected as she had been. It was as though a door had closed behind her eyes, cutting her off from all communication with anything beyond her own experience. She lived entirely in her senses, and could not comprehend why her actions did not have Barbara and me gnashing our teeth with lust.
"All right, Vicky," I said. "I'll be your slave again. On one condition." Vicky smoothed down her panties and looked at me. "You have to let Miss Tanner go." I continued. "Right now."
Vicky's eyes filled with hate. For a moment, I thought she was going to hit me.
"You don't understand," Vicky said. "I want both of you!"
Suddenly, Vicky walked up to Barbara and planted her lips fully on Barbara's. Barbara struggled, but the ropes and Vicky's arms held her tight. At the same time, Vicky began rubbing her hand up and down Barbara's exposed thighs, and into her crotch.
"You've got a good body," Vicky said to Barbara. "I'm going to enjoy playing with it. So you might as well relax and enjoy yourself."
"You can't keep us here forever," Barbara said, her voice filled with disdain. She pressed her lips together, as though to remove the impression left by Vicky's kiss.
"But I can," Vicky said. "I can keep you prisoner for as long as I want. But forever is a long time ... and I think I'll have both of you crawling on your knees before then. That's what usually happens."
There was the sound of a door opening to my right. I craned my neck as far as I could and saw a line of people entering the room. I recognized some of the faces. They were the same ones who had been here the night I had first been introduced to Vicky's curious pleasures.
There was the giant, and his tiny girl friend. As they filed into the room, she patted his crotch and giggled when he began to swell. There was the strange, beautiful girl who had gone down on the foaming champagne bottle. She and another woman were carrying a case of champagne between them.
And there were many others, some familiar, some not. They did not look at us as they filed in, but rather walked straight ahead, then sat down at what seemed to be their prearranged places on the floor. When they had finished, the room was jammed with people. The only space left was the small circle in the middle, where the evening's acts would be performed.
I shuddered. I did not want Barbara to see what was about to take place. But there seemed no way I could prevent it. Vicky's bare chest rose and fell rapidly as her excitement built. She had gone over to Barbara and placed one hand around her middle. The other fumbled with the buttons on Barbara's blouse. So, I thought, Barbara will get the show of Vicky's attention tonight.
Barbara said nothing. Neither did she struggle. Rather, she looked straight ahead, ignoring her tormentor.
"So," I said to Vicky, trying to take her mind off Barbara, "class is about to begin. Once again, the school of lust has opened its doors."
"Yes," Vicky replied. "And I think you'll like these lessons even better than last time. New people tonight." She glanced from Barbara to myself. "You're worried about your girlfriend, aren't you, Professor?"
"Of course," I said. "I didn't think you'd stoop to this. Barbara's done nothing to you, Vicky."
"You know how it is with me," Vicky's voice was hollow. "I enjoy making people suffer."
"You may be the one who suffers for this, Vicky. I doubt very much you'll be able to get us back under your spell. Why don't you let us go? At least let the girl go."
Vicky reached behind Barbara's back and unsnapped her bra. Barbara's breasts flopped loose on her chest. Vicky bent over and ran her tongue over both nipples.
"You'll get no satisfaction from me, sweetheart," Barbara said icily. "I only deal with men."
Vicky looked up, surprised. She was not used to being rebuffed, by men or women. Shock showed on her face. She slapped Barbara hard across both cheeks.
"You hit like an old woman," Barbara said, laughing.
Vicky's face became livid. Her fingers balled into a fist. She drew her arm back.
"Wait a minute!" I said quickly.
Vicky paused, then dropped her arm.
If only we could get free of these bonds, I thought, there might be a chance of escaping. "This is so public," I said, winking at her. "Why don't we all go to your apartment. Just the three of us. You know what I mean?" I leered at Vicky.
Her eyes remained cold.
"I'll bet you're a lousy poker player, Professor. I can read right through you. The minute I untied you and your girlfriend, you'd be running away."
Her words erased the leer from my face. I looked at Barbara. She too looked dejected.
"Maybe I will take you to my apartment," Vicky said. "Just the three of us ... and the giant."
My heart pounded. Vicky came up close to me, enjoying my fear. "Yes," she said. "Maybe I'll do that. I'm sure his little girlfriend can do without him for a while. I think your friend Barbara would give him a nice change of pace while you and I amuse each other."
I said nothing. I could think of no reply to the monstrous proposal. So I remained silent. But I could feel the blood draining from my face.
"Maybe after the show," Vicky said.
The lights were dimming. In a moment, the spotlight came on, bathing the center circle in its chalky white light.
Vicky fondled Barbara's bare breasts, rubbed her hand down between Barbara's legs. I strained at my bonds but succeeded only in burning the flesh on my wrists.
"Watch now," Vicky said to Barbara. "Watch and enjoy yourself. Let your senses drink in everything that's happening out there on the floor." Her voice went on in a sing-song manner, soft and hypnotic. "Let yourself go, Barbara. Pleasure is the only thing in the world that counts. Enjoy your lust. Enjoy the feel of my hand between your legs, and my hand on your crotch. In a minute, I'll be inside your pants. I'll put my lips on it, my tongue on it, and then you'll know...."
"Fight it, Barbara!" I screamed so loud that I startled some of the other viewers who were waiting for the first act to begin. They glanced around, but seemed bored. Soon their attention returned to the center of the room.
"Fight it, Barbara. She's trying to hypnotize you! She wants you to be a part of her act! They'll do all sorts of things to you."
Barbara looked at me. Her eyes were clear.
"Don't worry," Barbara said. "It'll take a stronger will than Vicky's to put me to sleep."
"Good girl!"
"Shut up, both of you." Vicky trembled with rage.
"I've got all the time in the world to work on you two. I don't know why I'm wasting my time on you now." She paused and then added: "The professor didn't like being my slave. We'll see how he likes being my prisoner."
That did not concern me. I would have been anything rather than return to my former, enslaved self. But that still did not solve the problem of how I was to save Barbara. She seemed remarkably strong. But everyone had a limit. She had not yet seen the size of the giant's prick. I had no idea of what would happen if Vicky drd loose the giant on Barbara. I did not think even Barbara was strong enough to take that. Or any prolonged ravishing. Her mind would rebel, and she would scream. Maybe she wouldn't stop. I would be responsible. If anything happened to Barbara, I felt I would die.
The first act began. There was nothing to do but relax, and try to conserve my strength. I focused on the circle of light at the center of the floor. The cleared aisle leading to the small door at one end of the room was also in my view.
The first person to emerge was a small woman, who looked as if she was of Asiatic descent. She had an olive complexion and almond eyes. She seemed very gentle, and fragile, as a Chinese porcelain doll. When she spoke, her voice was high pitched, like the chime of temple bells.
"My name is Mamu," the young girl said, bowing very low. "I would like to welcome you to The Dark Hole's annual breast revue."
I swallowed hard. My fear was rapidly being replaced by a growing sexual tension. I watched as Mamu removed the filmy, white gown that covered her. Like Vicky, she wore only panties, a garter belt and stockings. The rest of her was quite bare.
Mamu had the tiniest breasts I had ever seen. And yet they were unmistakably feminine, with the slightest swelling from her bird-like chest and little pink nipples that somehow looked like bits of crystal candy. I could easily have taken all of her breast into my mouth, and still had plenty of room. I could have stroked her with three or four fingers. Certainly, my palm would have been too big. Even so, there was something curiously exciting about the little buds, as if Mamu's sensuality made them more than they seemed.
"As you can see," Mamu said, "my own tits are very, very tiny. We in the Orient believe that it is quality, and not quantity that counts. For that reason, we all learn the art of loving at a very young age."
Mamu suddenly threw back her arms, and gave a sharp bump and grind. The nipples suddenly filled with blood and spread out over almost the entire surface of the tiny bud. The effect was electric. At that moment, I wanted more than anything else to place that quaint breast into my mouth and suck on it, while her dainty fingers would work their magic on my penis.
"Oh, yes," Mamu said, straightening up and again assuming her benign pose, "we know how to love. We know tricks of love that other women have not even dreamed of. We have small breasts, but you rarely see an Oriental husband who is unhappy with our lovemaking."
Mamu took her fingers and pressed them under the buds of her breasts, pinching them outward. She smiled, then put her hands down to her sides. "Women come in all sizes and shapes," Mamu continued. "Of course, men do too ... but women are much more exciting. Men drool over our breasts, no matter what their size. And tonight, to begin with, we'll see the full range of these lovely glands. Later on, my company will demonstrate the techniques of using our charms to their utmost advantage."
"You have to have love to make it worthwhile," Barbara whispered. Her tone was urgent. I looked over at her. Her gaze burned into me. I realized that I must be looking feverish. Once again she was trying to save me from myself. Lust had been the bars of my prison. Barbara was struggling to keep me free.
"Yes," I breathed, "I know it, darling."
Vicky made an ugly sound deep in her throat.
"Forget it, Professor. By the time the evening's over, you'll be helping me turn this lovely creature over to the giant."
I shook my head in helpless anger. But I was not so sure Vicky's words were wrong. My loins were already on fire. I was having trouble thinking of anything but the pleasure it would give me to slip my hard organ into a hot, soaking, moving vagina. The thought that I would betray Barbara made me sick ... but I knew, from past experience with my weak character, that it could happen.
"Your mind, Danny," Barbara said. "Use your mind to fight this thing. Don't let her get to you. Think of the real happiness that we shared."
I nodded, and tried to close my eyes to the circle of light. I could not. I had to watch what was happening. I wondered how long it would be before I ejaculated in my pants.
"Now I would like you to meet Isabel," Mamu was saying, moving off to one side and gesturing with her hand towards the curtained doorway.
The curtain parted. A very tall blond emerged. She wore the same filmy negligee as Mamu, and looked Scandanavian or Norwegian. Like Mamu, she wore black stockings with a garter belt, and she had on red pants. She moved with the grace of a jungle creature out next to Mamu.
Her negligee was just transparent enough to see through to the garter belt. My hips jerked spasmodically.
"Isabel's breasts are only slightly larger than my own," Mamu said, "but shaped quite differently. I think both the men and women in the audience will admit to their erotic potential. Isabel, please remove your gown and let the audience inspect you."
Isabel did as she was told. The filmy nylon slid from her shoulders to the floor.
It was true that Isabel's breasts were only slightly larger than Mamu's, but they jutted out from her body, like two thick stalks with bright red flowers on the end.
Isabel moved as if she knew how much men and women appreciated her body. She put her hands on her hips and leaned slightly forward, jiggling her hips so that her breasts swayed.
Her height brought visions into my head of sitting before her on a high stool, moving my mouth on those breasts, as one would suck a lollipop.
"Interesting shape, are they not?" Mamu said. "I've sucked them myself. More than a few times. I can tell you that their shape makes them quite delightful to taste. Would any of you like to try them?"
There was a low, sustained murmur from the audience.
A groan escaped from my own lips. Barbara again turned to me.
"It's only flesh," Barbara said. "Just two pieces of meat. Look at her eyes. See how blank they are. Could you love anybody that stupid?"
Isabel's eyes were blank, devoid of intelligence. Still, I ached with desire.
"You and you," Mamu said, indicating a man and a woman in the audience.
Quickly the two people came up. Mamu had picked a couple who were fairly short in stature. They stood before Isabel, each just barely reaching one of her breasts. Mamu patted their behinds. They reached out, took each of Isabel's breasts in their mouths, and began to suck. I was quite beside myself.
Isabel likewise seemed to be enjoying herself. Her lips drew back in a wan smile. She had placed her hands at the back of the couple's heads, pushing them onto her. The man and woman were making loud, sucking noises. The man's hand crept slowly up Isabel's leg and into her crotch.
Mamu gave the hand a light slap.
"Let's save that for later," she said. "All right, now, both of you go back to your seats. That was strictly for the purpose of demonstration."
"How'd you like that, Professor?" Vicky said, stroking my stiff penis.
I did not trust my voice, so I remained silent.
Mamu gestured to the curtained doorway. "And now," Mamu said, "I'd like you to meet one of the newest members of our revue. Jeanie, will you come out here please? We want to show the nice people your breasts."
Jeanie Jones staggered through the doorway. I felt my breath catch in my throat. She looked entirely different, haggard and drawn. Not at all like the student who had so joyously made love to me on the first day of classes.
Jeanie walked with her gaze pointed down toward the floor. Her feet shuffled as if she was too tired to lift them. Her skin was very pale.
"Jeanie is still being broken in," Mamu said in an apologetic tone. "She'll be fine in a few moments, if you just give her a chance. Let's hear a big hand for Jeanie."
The audience applauded. I heard myself screaming above the noise of the crowd: "Jeanie, for God's sake, run! What's the matter with you?!"
Jeanie looked up in my direction. Although I was conspicuously tied to the wall, she seemed to show no recognition. Then her gaze came to rest on Vicky, and her face lit. I groaned inwardly. Vicky had completely destroyed the young girl, or so it seemed. That must have been how I looked before Barbara had come and gotten me.
"Vicky?" Jeanie's voice was a plea. "Is it all right, Vicky?"
"It's all right, dear," Vicky said. "Do what Mamu tells you and maybe you and I can get together later."
"Anything you say, Vicky."
"Take off your gown, Jeanie, darling," Mamu said.
Jeanie did as she was told. She was dressed like the others and, even in her depressed state, her breasts and the rest of her body was beautiful. Still, I felt an overwhelming pity for the girl. She had not heeded my warning that night in Vicky's apartment. Now what I had predicted had come to pass. Jeanie was being swept into the evil of Vicky's world. And it was too much for her. Basically, she was a joyous girl. Full of love and life. Willing, anxious to share it with anybody. Jeanie was a giver, and Vicky was a taker. Jeanie's infatuatipn with Vicky was slowly rotting her away. The bright luster had gone from her eyes and she moved like a robot.
The effect of seeing Jeanie this way cooled my passion. Immediately Vicky sensed this. She knew that she had made a mistake in bringing Jeanie out. The sight of Jeanie had stiffened my resistance, rather than weakened it.
"All right, Mamu," Vicky said sharply, waving her hand, "that's enough of this. Get on with the rest of the revue."
"But I'm not even halfway through this part," Mamu protested. "Wait until the audience sees Mary's boobs."
"Don't argue with me, goddamn it," Vicky shouted, casting a sidelong glance at me. "I said to get on with it."
Mamu bowed low, then clapped her hands sharply three times. Five more girls came running out from behind the curtained doorway. At Mamu's signal, they all dropped their nylon negligees. I gasped. Each had breasts larger than the last, the final girl's mounds of flesh were only slightly smaller than Marcia Long's. I would not have thought it possible. Yet there they were before my eyes.
Vicky looked at me again and smiled at my uncontrollable passion. "You like this better, don't you, Professor?"
I gritted my teeth in silence. But my pleasure at the sight of garters, nylon and flesh on the stage was mirrored in my eyes, easy for Vicky to see. She stepped over to me, unzipped my fly, and took my bulging penis into her hand. I avoided looking into Barbara's eyes.
"You're going to like this, Professor," Vicky whispered, stroking my testicles. "By the time we're finished here, you'll be begging me to take you back. Watch now."
"We are going to demonstrate techniques of the group grope," Mamu said. "I'll need volunteers from the audience."
"We're going to have our own group grope here," Vicky said, reaching out with her left hand and touching Barbara's crotch at the same time. I was masturbating with gyrating.
Eight men sprang up from the audience. Mamu nodded her approval. They pulled off their pants and shorts. They all had quivering hard-ons.
Next, the eight men paired off with the women and they went to the center of the floor, forming a circle. At a signal from Mamu, who had her own partner, they all sat down, still keeping the form of a circle.
"Grope!" Mamu commanded.
Immediately, each individual reached out to either side. Each woman had a stiff penis to hold, each man two vaginas. They moved slowly at first, the women fondling the swollen cock tips, the men sliding the spread vaginal lips between their middle and index fingers.
I glanced about and saw that every member of the audience was likewise exposed. Each fondled others. Vicky's hand tightened on my penis and began to fondle it. My gaze fastened on her firm flesh and the black nylon encasing her legs. I moaned with passion. I could not look at Barbara, but I could tell from the movement of Vicky's other arm, that she was fingering the trussed woman.
Shame mingled with my passion, but it was fast being burned away by an overwhelming desire to participate in the orgy. Barbara made no sound and I did not think she was responding to Vicky's increasingly feverish caresses.
In the middle of the floor, the main participants were increasing the frenzy of their activity. All of the men had now inserted fingers into the gaping vaginas of the women. The women bounced up and down on the floor. Bare flesh of their buttocks slapped against the hard wood paneling. At the same time, their hands flew quickly up and down, masturbating their male partners. As I watched, jets of sperm began to spurt into the air. The men who came relaxed for a moment, but the women's hands continued to stroke them. Soon they were again stiff and ready for action. Ooze flowed freely from between women's legs.
The giant leaped to the center of the circle. He carried his naked, doll-like girl friend in his arms. She squealed as he lifted her up on his hands, and planted his huge lips on her vagina. She braced herself on his head, pressing down and spreading her legs as far apart as they would go. The giant continued to lap there while the girl squealed with delight and giggled. Two women leaped up from their places in the audience and took turns taking his monstrous penis into their mouths, vying with each other to see who could take it in deepest.
I was quite beside myself by now, my hips jerking back and forth in imitation intercourse. Memories of my unhappiness were very dim now. All I could think of was the heaven of Vicky's body. Suddenly she was in front of me, blocking my view.
"Do you want to see more, Professor?"
I could hear Barbara crying. This was enough to keep me silent. Somehow, I felt as if I were fighting for my very soul, as well as my body. Yet, I knew I was too weak to carry on the struggle alone. I had not been strong enough before, I was not strong enough now. Vicky read my eyes, and smiled in triumph.
"Silly," she said, patting my cheek. "Did you think I didn't love you, just because I didn't take very good care of you? That was a shortcoming on my part. I promise I'll do better next time. I'll take very good care of you."
"There won't be a next time," I said. "Maybe you can force me to do things, but I don't do them willingly." The strength in my voice surprised me. I heard a low, encouraging sigh from Barbara.
But Vicky only laughed as she stepped back and brought her hands up under her breasts, offering them to me. The rosy nipples tightened invitingly. "C'mon, Professor. Don't you want to feel these little hard things on your tongue? Sure you do."
Vicky began to stroke her nylon-clad legs. My legs began to shake. Slowly, she peeled off her panties, then put both of her hands on her upper thighs, framing the black, hairy thatch of her vagina for me to see.
"I'm wet inside, Professor," Vicky said, "I'm wet inside because I'm thinking of how much I want you to be there, inside of me. Do you want to come down from there and join me in the party?"
"Don't do it, Danny," Barbara whispered. "Remember how you looked when I found you. Remember how it felt to be a slave. Do you want to go back to cleaning her house, cooking her meals? Use your will against her. Fight it!"
"No," I said through clenched teeth. "I don't want to join you. Not unless you let Miss Tanner go."
"No," Vicky said. "I want both of you. Your girl friend's tough. But I'm tougher. Sooner or later, I'll have her, too."
"Don't hold your breath, sweetheart," Barbara said. "If you ever let me go, I'll knock you into the middle of next week."
A cloud of what might have been fear passed before Vicky's eyes. Then she brightened up. Her mouth curved into a cruel grin.
"But you see, I have your boyfriend. Wait until you see what I can do with him."
I was humiliated by Vicky's recognition that Barbara was the strong one, at least in this situation. All the humiliation was quickly forgotten as Vicky once more stepped close and took my penis into her hand. She raised her leg and rubbed my flesh against the nylon. I felt a thrill run up my spine, making me light-headed.
Barbara moved in closer, smiling, as though she had accepted Vicky's invitation and was ready to make the scene herself. Vicky reached out her one free arm to touch Barbara. At that instant, Bar-bara's smile turned to an expression of fury. She grasped Vicky's outstretched hand and in a second, it seemed, had unbalanced her and with one quick flip, tossed her to the floor. Like a tigress she fell on top of Vicky and began pummeling her body with her fists. Vicky screamed in terror, but Barbara's pounding was relentless. Finally, she stopped.
"Now, promise me one thing," she said, emphasizing her point with a raised fist, "and I'll promise to let you up. If you don't-I can't guarantee that you'll ever be able to walk again." Vicky blubbered through her tears, "All right, all right, Barbara. I promise. Anything. Only don't hit me. Your fists are like iron."
Barbara let up a trifle. "I want you to swear that you will never again see or touch my Daniel. He's mine, not yours, and you're to leave him alone from this second on. Do you understand that?" Her face writhing in pain, Vicky answered weakly, "I understand. I promise."
Barbara signaled to me. "Get out now. Walk out that door. Don't turn back. Do exactly as I say. Wait outside. I'll be there in a second."
I did what I was told. I had met another master. But this time there would be joy in my life, not terror.
CHAPTER NINE
Two days later, freshly bathed, shaved and dressed in a handsome new suit Barbara insisted on buying for me I stood outside my building waiting for her to pick me up. At the stroke of eight a long shiny black limousine drew up to the curb. I stepped back out of the way.
I don't know what I had expected but certainly not this. I got into the back seat and looked at Barbara. She was smiling and looked fantastically well. "Hello, darling," she said, putting a hand on my leg. This is going to be our night."
With that she immediately swooped down, unzipped me and took my cock in her mouth in one continuous movement.
I leaned back in my seat and pretended to myself that I was rich and famous and that this fabulous limousine was mine, and that this beautiful Viking on her knees before me was one of my subjects who was bound to serve me in any way I chose.
Dreaming thus, I looked out the car window as we sped through the city, feasting my eyes on this mighty metropolis that I fantasied had been created for my pleasure alone, while Barbara was busy feasting on my cock as if it had been erected for her pleasure alone.
I again glanced at the chauffeur's face in the rear-view mirror. He was studiously looking straight ahead, but I thought I detected a slight smile on his face. He was probably aware of what was going on in the back seat, but he was too well-trained and probably too well-paid to pay the slightest heed to us.
I was on the verge of climax when the limousine drew up before one of the city's most expensive restaurants and stopped.
Barbara raised her incomparable lips from my throbbing cock, her lush red lips wet and gleaming in the streetlight filtering through the car windows. She looked disappointed that we had reached our destination so quickly.
She sighed and reluctantly put my cock back in my pants and zipped me up.
"C'est la vie," she said, straightening out her dress as the chauffeur came around the car and opened the door for us. "Let's go eat, Dan. Your delicious joint was just an aperitif. Now I'm ravenously hungry."
I stepped from the car and helped her out. "Wait for us here, Arthur," she told the chauffeur, who touched the tips of his fingers to his visored cap.
I followed Barbara inside. We were inside a restaurant that I had frequently read about in newspaper society columns, but had never seen until now. We were in a large carpeted room swarming with the very rich. The air was abuzz with conversation carried on in the low tones of those who never had to raise their voices to have their wishes granted. The maitre d' greeted Barbara warmly.
He led us halfway around the main dining room and into a curtained alcove off to the side.
We were in a private room richly decorated in deep red and black. The table was set with gleaming silver and delicate china.
The maitre a" seated us and wished us good appetite before he noiselessly bowed himself out of the room. Almost immediately afterwards, a uniformed waiter brought us a menu and wine list.
Without consulting me Barbara looked over the menu with an expert eye and ordered things I had never even heard of.
"We'll have the Dom Perignon '36," she began, "along with coq au vin, truffles and pommes de terre au gratia."
The waiter bowed, executed a smart turn and left the room as silently as he had entered. As soon as he was gone Barbara left her chair and came over to me. She spread my legs and got on her knees before me, drawing the tablecloth over her so she could not be seen.
She slipped my cock out under the table and resumed the tasty meal that had been interrupted by our arrival. Her head bumped the table as she got carried away by the juicy viand in her mouth, making the table shake and jump up in the air like a giant ouija board being moved by unseen forces.
Needless to say I was more nervous being sucked off here than I had been in the relative privacy of the limousine. Only a drawn curtain separated us from the peaceful diners outside. How would they react if they knew one 'of their set was down on her knees before a hired stud in their privileged sanctuary?
There was little danger of discovery so long as Barbara remained hidden, but the table was shaking so violently now that I thought the sound must surely be heard all over the restaurant.
Barbara's mouth was grinding away at my dick as her hand gripped it tightly and pulled back and forth on the sleek skin of my shaft.
Just then the waiter returned, rolling a covered silver platter on top of a silver cart. I straightened up and tried to look nonchalant as he glanced at the empty chair. I pressed my hands flat on the table in an attempt to hold it down.
He expertly opened the bottle of wine and poured some in each of our glasses. Then he uncovered the silver platter and began serving our plates.
The advent of the waiter must have sharpened the edges of Barbara's lust, for she was working away at my hidden cock with a will. I came just as the waiter had finished serving Barbara's plate and was moving over to mine. I felt my come shooting from the head of my dick and being lapped up by Barbara's greedy tongue.
I couldn't control the moan that escaped my lips as I felt this exquisite pleasure in my relieved genitals. I tried to camouflage it by clapping a napkin over my mouth and pretending I was coughing. Fortunately, the waiter didn't notice anything amiss. He rolled the cart to a corner of the room, then left it there. Finally he bowed and left the room.
Barbara emerged from her hiding place two seconds later. Her fresh pink skin was glowing and she smiled as she resumed her place at the table.
"That was delicious," she said, licking her red-on-red lips and spreading a napkin over her lap. "Now I feel like I could eat a horse."
After the expert blow-job she had just given me I wouldn't have been surprised if she had. However, I wisely refrained from voicing my thoughts.
We attacked our food like starving peons. Barbara surprised me by eating her food in a very unlady-like manner, using her fingers, noisily smacking her lips together as she devoured the delicious meal set before us. Her magnificent cocksucking had whipped up my appetite, and I, too, dispensed with fine table manners as I dug into my high-priced chow.
We sat facing each other, hungrily gnawing away at our food and gulping down our wine as if we hadn't eaten for days. Looking deeply into her glittering eyes I felt our meal was an extension of the sex act, a gastronomic orgy attended by a lusting satyr and a restless nymph.
We reached a point where we could stuff no more food down our throats. We sat back exhausted, staring at each other with glazed eyes and slack jaws.
We dawdled over cigarettes and coffee and I slowly felt my strength returning.
"I have been invited to a party at the mayor's tonight," Barbara said. "Would you like to come with me?"
I answered, "My time is your time."
Barbara signed our check and we went back outside. "All the men I know are such bores. They're always so careful and afraid to take chances, but you, my love, are all man."
We pulled into the circular driveway of the mayor's mansion, and had to inch our way between polished Jaguars and Bentleys and Rolls Royces and low-slung Ferraris.
We walked up the wide stone steps of the mansion and a butler opened the door for us and ushered us inside. We were in a huge hall lit by sparkling chandeliers dangling from the ceiling like bunches of glittering grapes.
I could tell at a glance that the guests were very important people, indeed. Most of the men wore shiny tuxes and the ladies were in long flowing gowns and sparkling jewelry.
As we made our way through the glittering crowd, Barbara introduced me to one after another of the most powerful people in the city: directors of various city agencies, the police commissioner, fire commissioner, state and national senators and congressmen, and, finally, the mayor himself.
We went inside a spacious marble-floored ballroom where there was a live society band playing. We sipped champagne and had a few twirls around the smooth dance floor.
"I have to go to the John," Barbara said. "Come with me, Dan."
I had often remarked on how strange it was that women always go to the bathroom in groups of two and three, but this was the first time a woman had wanted me to join her.
She led me up a long winding staircase to the second floor.
There were several couples standing on the balcony, talking and sipping their champagne. We passed by them and went down a long hallway, our steps muffled in a thick carpet.
We stopped before a closed door. Barbara knocked. A woman's voice said the bathroom was occupied.
While we waited for the bathroom to be free Barbara pushed me up against the wall, hiding my body from anyone who might be looking, and unzipped my pants. She slid her hand inside my pants and began playing with my cock.
I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Here we were at the mayor's official residence, surrounded by countless VIP's and Barbara had her hand in my crotch. Shit, with all the power represented at that party we could have been thrown in jail for thirty years. I could, at least, I corrected myself. Barbara, after all, was one of the press. Most probably she could have talked her way out of a charge of indecent exposure or public fornication or whatever they wished to call her almost open playing with my prick.
The bathroom door opened and a petite bosomy little woman emerged. She smiled at us. I wondered if she'd keep on smiling so gracefully like that if Barbara stepped back and showed her where she had her hand.
Barbara waited until the girl disappeared down the hall, then tugged at my joint and pulled me inside the bathroom. She locked the door behind us, and, without any ado, dropped her drawers and squatted on the toilet bowl. I heard a light tinkling sound as her pee splattered on the water below.
"Come here, lover," she said, her eyes level with my crotch.
I moved in front of her. She drew my cock out of my pants and planted her mouth around it once again.
I shook my head in admiration of this insatiable cocksucker. Eating me off in the car and even under the table in a public restaurant hadn't been enough for her, she had to blow me at the mayor's party as well. She was truly an incredible woman.
She didn't release her juicy lips from my knob as she stuck her fingers up her cunt and thoroughly moistened them in her cunt juices. She stuck up her dripping hand and shoved her wet fingers in my mouth.
My dick did a double take in her mouth as I sucked on her creamy fingers, tasting her tart juices and inhaling their heavy aroma.
I grasped her head in my hand and rolled it around on my sensitive thrice-sucked cock, I held her cunty fingers between my teeth and pumped my dick in and out of her hot mouth as if it were steaming pussy I was tasting in my own mouth.
There came a knock at the door. Neither of us answered as Barbara redoubled her efforts to get my rocks off in her mouth once again.
The hand that had skewered her pussy was still in my mouth, and as Barbara took her other hand and began jerking herself off, I held her head in my hands and fucked her mouth for all it was worth.
The knocking on the door was louder now, urging both Barbara and me to hasten our pleasures. I shoved my dick so far down her throat that her eyes bugged out. Unruffled, she just opened her mouth wider and rubbed her pussy with greater fury.
The door was being pounded on by several sets of hands. In my imagination I saw the whole party lined up outside waiting to catch us and arrest us as we left the bathroom.
I had no time to lose. I might be arrested, but not before I shot my nuts again.
Barbara switched hands, taking her fingers from my mouth and replacing them with the fresh vaginal fluids dripping from her other hand.
As if these slippery reinforcements were all I needed to turn my libido on full blast, I held Barbara's head in a vise and thrust my dick in and out of her mouth in a seething frenzy, feeling a familiar tingle working its way up my swollen testicles and making my cock harden and stretch like a ramrod.
The pounding on the door filled my ears like the pounding of my cock as I blasted off and shot my load of hot come inside her O-shaped mouth.
She brought herself to a quick climax almost right after, her mouth falling open and her jaws suddenly hanging loose around my still-pulsing cock. Her ass vibrated on the toilet seat, making a loud clattering sound on the wood.
My come dripped from her cherry lips and she quickly licked it up before it dripped down her chin.
She looked up at me with misty eyes, her long pink tongue lolling out of her overworked mouth.
She stood up and pulled her panties up over her wet pussy. I replaced my cock back in my pants and zipped up.
The pounding on the door was louder and more insistent.
"Just a minute, goddamit!" Barbara shouted, as she poured cold water over her face and dried off.
Looking perfectly composed Barbara went to the door and opened it. A collective gasp seemed to issue from the throats of several persons as, with cool aplomb, Barbara walked out of the bathroom, closely followed by me.
I tried to look as composed as she did, but I could not look anyone directly in the eye. I held myself stiff and straight and didn't once glance back as I followed Barbara down the hall and back into the throng below.
We remained at the party a short time longer until Barbara became bored. She had gotten what she came for, which was to suck a big cock amidst all the notables around us, and all the kick had gone out of her.
With Barbara anything could happen. I was even looking forward to my next unpredictable meeting with her.
Now what was the name of that other person? Vicky? Why, I'd almost forgotten her. Everything I was belonged to Barbara. I had become her slave, she was the mistress of my soul and my body.
