In Puerto Rico Susan realized she'd been invited as a courtesy not because she was needed. Their second night there she took a bus to Old San Juan to see what the non-tourists were like.
As she got off the bus at Plaza de Colon she felt the eyes of the young men loitering about the square follow her as she moved along the narrow sidewalk. Their comments were in English, so she knew they were meant for her. Something was stirring in her breast.
The men were all so Spanish looking! Their dark hair and dark eyes excited her. Their trim bodies and sensuous fitting trousers made her uneasy. One brushed against her. Susan's heart stopped. She wished he'd do it again. Every step seemed to bring yet another Hispanic Adonis. She thought she was going crazy.
CHAPTER ONE
"Get your fucking hand off my knee!"
Everyone in the movie house turned to see who said it. The offending man got up and moved out of the row. He went to the back of the theatre. Apparently there wasn't to be a confrontation or more yelling and everyone returned to viewing the screen where the mafia was engaged in a gun battle with cops in a helicopter. The young girl who'd discouraged her molester stopped grinding her teeth together, grabbed her purse and headed for the ladies room. Her face was crimson with rage. She was only 20 and while she wasn't a virgin she certainly wasn't about to be molested in a public movie. She'd used words she knew he'd understand.
Making her way to the aisle, Susan rudely moved past the Puerto Rican couple locked in an embrace. She took long strides up the filthy carpet to the back of the theatre where she saw the lit-up sign that said "Ladies."
She hurried down the steps to the basement ladies room, anxious to relieve herself. For some reason, sex, no matter what kind or how remote, always sent her to the John. Even an obscene creep like the one who had sat down beside her and placed his hand on her knee excited her. As she closed the door on a booth in the brightly lit toilet, she recalled the first time she'd been excited by a man's sexual interest, when she was only 14, skinny and flat-chested. In the public library, a coat had opened and she saw a guy, not terribly much older than herself, glare as her eyes opened wide at the sight of his erect penis. His satisfaction must have come in her registering surprise. If that was the case, she thought, he got what he wanted because she had stopped dead and dropped her books as her mouth fell open. Only the sound of footsteps approaching motivated him to dart away.
She thought of that, the first time she'd ever seen a man's sex organ, as she pulled her jeans down. Her paisley panties followed and she sat down on the cigarette-burned seat.
Other women were in the spacious John, she was aware, but she hadn't paid much attention. Now the sound of angry voices rose and drew her attention.
"You fuckin' cow! I paid for the beers!"
"Like shit you did! I blew three bucks on you and that bleached tramp! I paid for the fuckin' beers!"
"My mother's ass you did! Sixty bucks. I had sixty bucks on me when I left the plant this morning. Now I've got forty-seven. I paid for the beer, the cab, your goddam eggs and the movie! You didn't pay for shit!"
"Bullshit!"
"That cunt you picked up cost me four bucks, she drank like a motherfuckin' horse. And she smells like one and looks like one, too!"
"You cunt-lappin' pussbag-"
"Look, turd mouth-"
A great thud shook the partitions. Susan grew afraid. She stood up. Another thud and she could tell a fist fight had broken out. She dressed quickly and peered over the top of the door. Two stout and butch-looking lesbians were slugging it out. The blonde one had blood all over her face. When they had maneuvered themselves into a corner Susan quickly opened the door and bounded up the stairs. She found a uniformed attendant and breathlessly told him what was happening.
He went for the manager. Susan stood at the top of the stairs and listened as the fist fight continued in the ladies room. Almost at once the manager came. He was a heavyset black man, obviously hired for the manager's job for his athletic bulk and physical prowess. But, she thought to herself, the owners expected his size to be useful in case of trouble with men, not women. As he approached, she pointed down the stairs. He descended two steps at a time. His rushing across the back of the theatre had caused the milling patrons in back to gather around the top of the entrance of the women's John. Before he got to the bottom, he was bellowing.
"All right, you dykes, break it up or I'll flatten the both of you."
By the time he was out of sight at the bottom of the stairs, Susan was surrounded by an eager audience. Grinning faces, black, brown, white, young and old. even children were eagerly gathered to at least hear the combatants. None of the predominantly male crowd dared descend the steps, but one short and tough-looking lesbian elbowed her way through the crowd like a bantam hen and flew down the steps. Susan knew it couldn't be the one the fighters had talked about because she was a skinny Puerto Rican with dark hair cut very short, not the bleached beer drinker she'd heard mentioned.
Susan, with a religious, genteel, educated background found the whole scene offensive and pushed her way through the crowd. She left the theatre, not caring if she missed the movie she spent her whole week's "mad money" to see.
Jesus god, she thought, is this what New York is really like? When she was out on the sidewalk on 42nd Street she felt terribly depressed. She had been in Manhattan two weeks and nothing good had happened. She hadn't met a single soul she could talk to. Why had she run away from college? It had been a foolish impulse. She knew that on the plane from North Carolina. The pressure of studies, sorority life, Derek's sudden disinterest in her and her lackluster performance in class as a result hadn't really been so bad. But this place was a whole new and much worse world. Whatever had made her think she could make it as a fashion designer?
She'd cashed the check her grandmother Penn had sent to the YWCA the first week. Thank god for Grandma, she thought, the only person in the world who could possibly understand and help her.
Grandma Penn was one of those Grand Old Ladies. She was a pillar of society in Charleston. She was not only cultivated and imaginative but energetic and courageous as well. No one in the family ever alluded to it, but she had been a vaudeville peril) former. She'd married Grandpa Penn when the show she was traveling with was stranded in the south. No one ever mentioned the details of the courtship but Grandma Penn had sometimes twinkled as she said, "I met your grandfather under bizarre circumstances."
Susan and her Grandmother were the only two in the family who swore. Now that she thought of it, Grandma Penn was the only one of her relatives she'd ever known to fart. It was at dinner on Christmas Day. The bishop and his wife and the O'Haras were sitting around the table. Rebecca Mae had just served the coffee and Susan and her brother were playing with their new toys as the grown people made polite conversation.
Susan remembered the instant red in her mother's face as the erruptive sound came from her grandmother. The old lady sat stiffbacked as if nothing had happened. Philip, Susan's brother, had giggled. Their mother had seemed to shrivel up and their father had quickly started talking about the condition of the roads. The bishop's wife dug in her purse for her overscented handkerchief. Grandma Penn, drawing on her theatrical training, raised her voice and proclaimed this Christmas dinner the best Paulette and Rebecca Mae had ever prepared.
These thoughts of Grandma Penn came to Susan as she emerged from the subway and headed for the cheap apartment she'd rented with the check. It was on 76th Street on Manhattan's West Side, close enough to Central Park for a decent walk. It was on the 12th floor of an old building. The view was great! Since most of the occupants were elderly social security recipients who didn't go out much, the limited elevator service was not really a problem. There were two elevators, one usually out of order. She knew New York was still the center of the fashion world and if she was to be a fashion artist this is where it was happening, where she would have to get into the profession that beckoned her.
She pushed open the heavy wrought iron and glass door to the dingy lobby and walked across the dirty marble tile to the elevators. The gauge indicated the clumsy machine was in the basement. It was after 11 p.m. She'd never known it to be in the basement at this hour before. But she was still thinking how horrible the disgusting filth in the ladies room had been and didn't pay much attention to the fact as the doors closed in the basement and she heard the grind of the elevator's laborious climb to the lobby level.
When its tired doors slid open, Susan was so exhausted she stepped in without looking up. If she had, she would have seen the two Puerto Rican youths in the back of the elevator. By the time she did see them she was halfway into the elevator and even though they were staring at her and not registering that bored indifference she'd come to expect from Manhattan elevator passengers, she thought nothing of it.
As the doors closed behind her, she pushed the button for her floor. The ancient engine moaned as the box-like car bounced back and forth in its assent to the 12th floor. Casually she was aware of the young men behind her shifting their weight. But it surprised her to have one of them suddenly standing at her side, looking at her face.
Being an out-of-towner, she responded politely.
She smiled. The dark-eyed youth was quick to press his advantage. His mouth spread into a big grin and a mouthful of even white teeth smiled back at her. Instantly his hands were on her wrists and that smiling mouth was pressing against hers. Her surprise preceded shock. She tensed, but he increased the pressure of his face against hers and she automatically bent backwards. That was when she felt the second youth against her back. His hands were unbuttoning the three buttons that held her cotton halter. She tried to cry out. But the pressure of the firm lips against her mouth prevented anything but a muffled strain to be heard. It flashed across her mind that she was going to be raped but that thought was surpassed by the realization that the one in back was unbuttoning rather than ripping the garment off her. As a result, she wasn't taken over with fear or panic. She was angry. She kicked back and hit a shin with her platform shoe. She kicked backwards again and made a useless effort to free her wrists. The curly-haired young man pulled his mouth away from her and smiled. "Oh, babe!"
He smiled broadly and brought his face back to hers, softly murmuring "buena."
As she squirmed and kicked to get away from them, Susan thought rape should be rougher. The tenderness of their handling her didn't seem like what she'd imagined it would be.
The Spanish shawl she had over her shoulders was on the floor and the halter was hanging from her neck. The hands that had undone it were flat against her sides and sliding towards her soft breasts. A new energy rose in her and she bent and twisted to get away, but their strong bodies had her sandwiched between them. The one in front still held her wrists by her sides and was aggressively running his tongue between her lips. The man she hadn't even seen yet slid his hands to her breasts. She bent her knees and sank to the floor; it was the only direction she could move. The one kissing her lost his balance and fell over, but the one in back went down with her and kept hold of her around the waist. Susan's legs were bent under her, and the man holding on to her was in a sitting position with his legs straight out in front on either side of her. His companion was getting to his feet when she opened her mouth to scream. But a hand flashed from her waist to cover her mouth. Her head was pulled back; she was unable to utter a sound.
The youth who'd kissed her was quickly on his feet. He ignored Susan as he took a screw driver from his pocket and did something with the elevator buttons. The car stopped. It was between the 11th and 12th floors. Oh. God, she thought. The elevators often get stuck. No one will think anything unusual if one isn't working.
The youth put the screwdriver back in his pocket and turned to face the petrified Susan, held in the masculine grip of her captor.
"You're pretty and smart, too, yes? You won't make any noise, will you? I would have to make you keep quiet and that would hurt. You be smart, huh, no scream."
Then he undid his belt with Walt Disney figures stamped onto the leather, which was painted in pink and green and blue. Susan couldn't help noticing that he was dressed in the height of Bethesda Fountain fashion, in the faded blue jeans and Arrowsmith shoes and pastel colors which were with it that summer. As Pluto and Snow White slipped through the belt loops of his jeans and the zipper slid down. Susan was horrified to find herself wondering what kind of underwear he had on. It was bright yellow nylon with navy bands on the legs and waist. Black curly hair rose from behind the material and snaked up to his navel, which was a tiny indenture on a flat, smooth stomach. His sense of color was good.
The yellow nylon was bulging against the strain of his swelling cock. She could see the outline of the circumcision through the material. Then she couldn't because he slipped the bright garment down to his thighs and his organ flopped into full view. Susan didn't see it because he was instantly flat on his stomach and pulling her legs from under her.
His fingers had pulled her hip-huggers over her well-formed buttocks. They were at her knees when she was able to scratch the hand over her mouth enough to have him yank it away. But again, before she could scream, the hand was in her hair and her head was jerked backwards to a painful degree. The youth in front of her quickly crawled on his knees so he was astride her and looking down at her upturned face. She could feel his penis against her breast.
"Don't be foolish, muchacha. We are gentlemen. We are not interested in hurting you. Be smart, huh?"
She felt something cold against her throat and realized it was the screwdriver. She knew what he meant and decided further struggle was foolish.
He scooted backwards and knelt over her trembling body. He had a stern look on his face and his eyes seemed to be questioning her, as if he was waiting to see if she was going to cooperate. The grip on her hair relaxed a bit and there was a pause while they waited to see what she was going to do. She kept looking at him and then her eyes betrayed her. Curiousity caused her to glance at his erect cock. He understood the meaning of the involuntary glance and broke into a huge smile. He slowly reached for the fabric of her halter. He slowly moved it over her breasts and let it hang over her right arm. This was the first time her breasts had been exposed to the view of someone she didn't know and her embarrassment was total. But the thought came to her that nothing worse could happen to her. Broke and alone in New York, now she was being raped in an elevator by two Puerto Rican punks. This was the absolute bottom. Anything that happened now would have to be an upturn. It steeled her and she subdued the swelling tears. She'd be damned if she'd lose her cool. Grandma Penn wouldn't have given them the satisfaction of seeing her cry and, by God, neither would she.
Susan set her jaw and let her body relax.
The young man (he was about her age) let his smile take on the characteristics of a sneer. He nodded his head up and down.
"She's smart."
He handed the screwdriver to his partner and casually pulled Susan's paisley panties down to her knees. He took one leg out of her pants and panties. This gave him the mobility he needed to spread her young legs. It unsettled Susan to be conscious of the softness of his touch.
He was lifting her hips and sliding her flat on the floor, and her head now rested between the thighs of his companion. She could feel the heat radiating from the muscular legs that served as her pillow. The one facing her crawled up her body and moved his legs between hers. Propped up on his elbow he guided his instrument to the protruding vulva. He searched back and forth for the right angle, then slowly moved into her. He was being awfully gentle with her, she thought. It wasn't the ripping and tearing that she'd always expected constituted a rape. And as the head of his sex began to part the resigned lips of her muscles she felt that familiar tinge. She was excited. Her heart was beating like a drum; it had been since their first moves, but this was sexual excitement. She hoped they weren't aware of it. That would be an insult as bad as being raped, to let them know she was aroused by their masculinity.
But as the firm organ slid further into her body and the warmth of his torso came closer to her own, she grew apprehensive that she couldn't hide it. Why was she so sexual? Cod, why couldn't she have been a nun or something?
Then his erect prick was completely in her. He let out his breath. It was sweet and soft against her cheek. She liked it. His body was tightly muscled; he was in perfect physical condition and that made his breath sweet to smell. Without realizing it, she was exhaling too. And then his cheek was softly sliding back and forth against hers, a gentle contact of two young textures totally appreciative of each other. His cock was doing the same thing inside her body, sliding back and forth, gently arousing the tissue it touched. A magic lubricant divinely appeared to prepare the path of the firm straight piston as it explored new regions within her. A church aisle decorated for a wedding came to her mind. She thought of her vagina as the aisle. The lubricant was a flower girl dropping rose petals on a white cloth as the bride slowly went further and further up the aisle. Her full white skirt filling the aisle was his cock, its thickness filling the whole opening of her vagina. Each nerve ending was like a pew, and as his cock passed each one a new thrill ricocheted through the temple of her body. Her hands were around his back and she was lifting her hips to meet his forward thrusts before she realized it. He was murmuring something, and his body twisted to let his mouth engulf the reddish tip of her pink breast. The dark tones of his smooth skin contrasted beautifully against the pink and white softness of her breast.
The sensations that were rampaging through her body as his mouth tugged gently at her nipple were like someone had suddenly opened shutters in a dark room and let blazing daylight explode into it. She opened her eyes as his energetic pumping increased in tempo. It was then that she realized her temples were being massaged ever so softly, so softly she hadn't been aware it was going on. The second youth was soothing any hurt she might be feeling. He bent down and kissed her brow. Susan was all confused. This wasn't supposed to happen in a rape. What were these Puerto Ricans like? They rape her but they don't tear her clothes or hurt her. But the urgency of the prying penis within her dispelled any thoughts at all, and all she could sense was the jerking her hips were doing. He was fucking faster now, driving his cock faster. His mouth was off her firm breast and he was holding his shoulders and head high above her as he let his hips do all the moving, going quicker and quicker in jabbing assaults. He was taking quick short breaths as he moved faster, and a dizzying monotony surpassed every other feeling as she tried to meet and anticipate each thrust. He gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes, then held his breath as the fat vein on the underside of his cock hardened and the stream of hot flood threw itself down the passage and burst like a volcano er-rupting into her vagina. Involuntary jerks convulsed his body and a nerve reaction made his whole frame shudder. Then he went limp. He kissed her on the cheek and instantly was on his feet, tucking his penis into the yellow nylon briefs.
Susan was still befogged by the fucking she'd received. She'd liked it. She knew she'd like it. It was good. Oh, God, it was good. Why was it over so soon? But it wasn't over. The other young man was turning her over on her stomach. She didn't know what was happening. The question of what was happening was all over her face as she looked up at him. She hadn't even seen what he looked like yet. He had held her inert while his buddy fucked her and had soothed her during the rape. He'd cradled her head and petted her hair, but she hadn't seen what he looked like. Now she looked straight into his face as he knelt with her face resting on his knees.
He was beautiful. Where his gentle companion was ordinary looking, albeit attractive and dressed in good taste, this rapist was not typical at all. He was taller than most Puerto Ricans, with a sensitive and classic face and raven hair cut to perfectly set off his features. His torso seemed long and his carriage was aristocratic; she could tell that even though he was on his knees. His long slender fingers were brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. And he was smiling with great understanding in his eyes.
"You do not love me," he said, "and I am very conceited. I want a woman to love me. Without that I do not want to give my all. I make love very well and I hope someday to make you happy to make love to me. But this is not the place. But, beautiful muchacha mia, I am not perfect. I want to cum. I want to spill my seed. I am a man. So you suck me, yes?"
All Susan could think of was the soft brown eyes and the elegant features. She thought he was magnificent looking and she was actually anxious to be under him. But he was peculiarly ethical and didn't want to rape her. Yet he wanted to reach a climax in her mouth? Was he crazy? His hand still stroked her hair and his soft look was caressing her.
"You make love to my cock."
He took his hand from her hair and undid his jeans. All Susan could see was his cock, hard and pointing straight at her head. She couldn't tell if it was big or not. His hands were under her arms and he dragged her forward. Then he held her hair above her face so it wouldn't drag on the dirty floor.
"Suck."
Susan had never had her mouth on a man's sex organ before. She'd touched Tom's and Bill's and Derek's, but never with her mouth. She'd often wondered if she could. Other girls had admitted they'd done it. Melinda Laurie even bragged that she liked it a lot and suggested it to her boyfriends.
"Now."
His stern command brought Susan back to reality. She was in the hands of men who would rape a girl in an elevator and she shouldn't trust a handsome face or good taste in clothes. This was an attack and she'd better cooperate or get hurt. She closed her eyes and put her mouth on the tip of the jutting flesh. It didn't have any taste. When she had some of it in her mouth she realized she didn't know what to do with it. Suck. She thought of an ice cream soda and pretended the cock was a straw and pursed her lips and tried to draw in air. Where was the air to go?
"Up and down."
He didn't sound impatient, but it was definitely an order. She tried to slide her mouth further down the shaft. It was too dry. She felt his hand pulling her hair straight up. She opened her mouth and raised her head up. With his free hand he swathed saliva all over his hand and then wrapped it around his cock, moistening it so her parched mouth could slide along the erect flesh. Susan thought this was to replace the fluid her own body so generously manufactured when she was being fucked in the normal fashion. Homosexuals, she thought, must have a problem.
Her seducer's hand pushed her head down on the rampant rod. She licked the inside of her mouth to increase the moisture it desperately needed if she was to do what he ordered.
Her lips parted and the head of his cock, which seemed gigantic, fat and bulbous, disappeared between her lips. This time it slid a little more easily. She tried to slide her mouth down the length of it.
But the fat head hit the back of her mouth. Her chin was against the zipper of his pants. She felt the cold metal of his belt buckle on her forehead. She backed off. His palm on the back of her head drove her forward again. She started moving in this rhythm, as if her head was a rocking chair. Back and forth she went.
"Tighten your lips."
She didn't even think about it. She did it.
His hand relaxed on her head and she found her own hands were against his buttocks. She was caressing them the way he caressed her hair. She arched her head higher and pushed down further on the protruding male organ as she tried to take even more of it into her mouth. She was operating at a steady rhythm now, subconsciously trying to duplicate the rhythm a man would develop when he was making love to her. She wished now she'd seen "Deep Throat." She knew she couldn't take the whole length of his cock but for a reason she wanted to think about she wanted to do a good job. The cock wouldn't go any deeper, but she wanted to increase the sensation. So Susan started moving her head in a circular motion. It was easy to do. She did it faster.
"Eyee!"
His utterance meant he liked it. She stopped doing it.
She remembered Corinne Calvert saying in an interview the way to keep a man is to find out what he likes and then not give him too much of it.
Her neck began to hurt after a few more up and down movements. He must have realized this because he pulled her face out of his crotch and raised himself from a squatting to a kneeling position. Susan had to sit on her ankles to keep the hard cock in her mouth. To keep her balance, she grabbed his thighs and then began working her head back and forth and then around as she eagerly tried to make him reach a climax. His body was tensing; his hands were cupped around her head. As the uncontrollable spasm grabbed his body he moved his hips forward and held her head tightly as he thrust his expanding penis deep into her throat. It was shooting its juice into her throat. She was unable to breathe. Gobs of the fluid were gagging her, but still his firm hands held her head inertly in his abdomen and still his hot cock spat its cum into her. She pushed with all her force against his pelvic bone to get her mouth off his organ. She couldn't breathe. The convulsions his cock was going through slowed. One gigantic spasm jerked him. When another didn't follow it, he abruptly pulled his elongated and rapidly softening penis out of her mouth. She was aware of the sound of machinery. The elevator must be moving.
He stood up and was fastening his pants. Susan was on all fours, gagging and trying to spit up the gluey product that was gagging her. Her halter top hung from her neck as she gagged and spit and tried to take great gobs of air; it was covered with the white sticky substance. She opened her eyes as she heard the grinding metal of the ancient elevator door open. The two of them were between her and the door.
Susan, her hair hanging over her face, her pants around her knees, looked up to see the one who'd fucked her pulling a boy scout knife out of his pocket and straightening out the blade. Her heart stopped.
He adroitly swung his leg over her and stood with her head in the vice of his knees. She thought he was going to stab her in the back.
"I won't tell anybody, please don't kill me!"
She felt nothing.
"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me."
Then she did feel something, his hand on her ass. Then she felt the knife blade against her leg. He cut the side of her paisely panties and pulled the material away from her.
Then he swung his leg over her and moved to the door. The elevator was still moving. Susan looked up from her position on the floor. He was stuffing her panties into his trousers.
"I always take a souvenir, muchacha."
The other one moved, and she looked his way. For the first time she saw a pillow case on the floor. It was about half-full of something. He bent over and picked it up.
"We would not kill you. We steal, yes, but we are not murderers, pretty one."
Then the elevator doors slid open in their slow metalic grind and the two Puerto Ricans shot out of the elevator into the lobby. The one who fucked her was out the door into the street as Susan, still on all fours, looked after them through her disarrayed hair. At the street door, the elegant slender one who'd put his cock into her mouth, turned, smiled, blew her a kiss and said.
"I hope we meet again."
CHAPTER TWO
Susan was alone. She couldn't believe it was all over in five minutes. Suddenly her body started to shake. Shock was setting in. She got to her feet; she was wobbly. She couldn't stand without holding on to the wall. She pushed "12" and the slow door closed in a halting slide. The jerky elevator climbed upward again.
Susan couldn't see as she tried to get the keys out of her purse. She found them by braille. Inside the apartment door, she closed it with a slam and quickly secured both locks. Then her whole body failed her and she fell on the floor crying hysterically.
She lay there panting, crying and breathing heavily for who knows how long. She may have fallen asleep. Eventually, the sensation came over her that she was alive. She wasn't cut or bruised. This was her apartment. She would survive. But she felt filthy.
As she got to her knees and sat back on her ankles, she placed her hand on her stomach and felt the free-hanging halter top. Her hand was stickly from the cum that she'd coughed up on the material. It offended her and she tried to tear the garment off her neck. She tugged at it, but didn't have the presence of mind to slip it over her head. It was well made and didn't tear. Susan had designed and made it herself. Finally she pulled it over her head and flung it across the room. She sat on the floor and yanked the hip-huggers off her legs. Her sandles were already off, how or when she didn't know. She stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Stepping into it made her feel better and she relaxed with the warm water washing memories of the ordeal off her like the soap suds that streamed down her smooth skin and flowed across the bottom of the tub to the drain and disappeared, just as the two perpetrators had done through the front door.
She turned off the shower and sat down. She turned on the faucets to fill the tub with relaxing, comforting, forgetful warm water. And she soaked 'til dawn.
The water was cold when she got out of the tub and dried herself with a cheap towel she'd bought at a job-lot store on 14th Street. Then she lay down on the mattress that lay on the floor of the tiny apartment. She still couldn't sleep. Her mind kept going back to what it had felt like to be lying on the scuffed floor of the elevator and have that dark-skinned, energetic Puerto Rican violating her body. She tossed and turned. Why had she let her body respond the way it did? She had cooperated with him, there was no use denying it. She had cooperated and enjoyed it. Her body was uncomfortable as she thought about the texture of his skin, the curve of his upper lip, the long silky eyelashes and the bright teeth. She tossed and turned her head 'til her long straight hair was spread out all over the pillow. What was the matter? In her nervousness her hand rubbed back and forth across her stomach just under her breasts. Her breathing became short and labored. She stretched her long legs and pointed her toes. Her hand was on her stomach again and she let her fingertips touch the underside of her breasts. Then they abandoned her stomach and ran little circles around her nipples ever so gently. She rubbed the end of her finger across the tips, bending them and letting them straighten up again. Then doing it again.
The flesh grew hard and certain nerve reactions in her abdomen made her move her hips back and forth. She pushed her hips into the mattress and slid them sideways. All the while, her tender fingertips ran over the nipples which were hard now, hard and swollen. She pictured the penis sticking out of the jeans and the smooth skin of his arms on either side of her. She felt again the tender massaging of her temples and the blue veins in the cock that had entered her mouth. One hand abandoned a nipple and slid down her body to her vulva. It, too, was swollen now. Susan's soft finger slid back and forth across the hair that adorned it. Her fingertip traced the opening from top to bottom. She drew it back up the orifice. Then down. Up and down. She pushed her body up to meet the finger and thereby caused it to slip a bit inside the gentle folds.
She rolled the nipple between her thumb and index finger as her other hand raked gently up and down her protruding vulva. The finger delved deeper and deeper into the moist opening. It edged upward beneath the warm flesh and made the contact that was like an electric charge. The clitoris jutted out. She had no way of knowing it but hers was unusually large and more sensitive than average. It was this physical phenomenon that was causing her restlessness, as it had so many sleepless nights in the past. Susan could never understand why she craved sex so. She assumed everyone had the same amount of desire and was aroused the same way. How then could other girls sleep comfortably after a date? And wake up refreshed and renewed after a night that included more than a little time in the back seat of a car? Susan always was wide awake and restless. She looked ghastly the next morning. More so if she had been on Bill's boat, which is where they found privacy for their love making. If she had sex she was never satisfied. Bill was the one who made her feel the best, but often he would fall asleep afterwards, while she was still throbbing with desire and could do it again and again. What was wrong with her? When Derek would bring her home from a motel she would spend thfe night just as she was doing now, her finger trying desperately to make her happy.
Just thinking about those frustrating nights caused her to almost cry. And she could feel the breath of the men in the elevator. It raised the pitch of her desire. The unsatisfied passion raged within her. She was tormented. The clit felt so sensational as she touched it lightly first, then more firmly and finally rubbed it mercilessly, her body pumping fluid that seeped out in little droplets and stained her sheets, not for the first time.
The agony and her attempts to assuage it kept up for hours and it was well past three o'clock in the afternoon that she finally reached for a towel to wipe her body clean and mop her perspiring brow.
She had to change the sheets.
The coffee she fixed for herself and the shower and shampooing didn't take the Puerto Rican rape off her mind. It would do no good to inform the police. Except maybe to give them another rape for their statistics. If they got enough crimes reported the precinct would get a budget increase and they could buy another patrol car to eat their lunches in. Fat lot of good that did a girl in an elevator. Or they could all be put on overtime and move their families even further into the suburbs, away from the crime of the inner city the cops did so much to increase by their graft. She decided not to even bother reporting it.
She'd heard most rapes went unreported. How many such events had taken place in Manhattan alone last night? And how many girls stayed in bed until three p.m. masturbating because of it?
Wrapped in a terrycloth robe, with her hair in a towel, Susan sat looking out the window with a mug of coffee in her hand. She simply couldn't get the image of that attractive young Puerto Rican out'of her mind. Why couldn't he have fucked her, too? She'd have liked to experience one man after another, sticking his hard penis into her and getting it moist with not only her juices but with the semen of his predecessor as well. Would it feel different? Would she enjoy it more?
Susan realized she'd go mad if she thought about it any more. So she set to work on her laundry.
CHAPTER THREE
Susan's luck took a turn for the better. On Tuesday she left copies of her drawings at three leading department stores and half a dozen garment center establishments. On Wednesday she left copies at no less than 14 dress manufacturers. Over coffee in a Seventh Avenue cafeteria she met another girl who was doing the same thing. They liked each other. They shared confidences. Susan learned that a prestigious $150-and-up dress manufacturer was going to be doing a major show in the fall and was looking for freelancers to prepare drawings of his line. Susan went to the offices and left copies of her work. On Thursday the manufacturer's secretary called. On Friday Susan had an interview and a job. It would only be for this one show, but it was a New York credit and she knew the prestige of the house was high. It was a very good break.
Susan was so excited she didn't realize that the summer heat was building to a summer storm. On the crowded sidewalk of West 36th Street, as she stepped briskly from the towering building that was to be her first office in New York, she was oblivious to the thunder-head building up over Manhattan Island.
She gingerly stepped around the day workers dragging carts and racks of garments. The blacks and Puerto Ricans and young nephews of the manufacturers were scurrying like ants all over the Garment Center, the most hyper and the most charged section of Manhattan. If anything represents the hustle and bustle and gutty character of New York, Seventh Avenue is it. And she'd conquered it!
She felt pretty damn proud of herself. This was the Big Apple, and, by God, she'd taken her chunk out of it. Sure this could be a flash in the pan, but what other 20-year-old out-of-towner could say she'd presented her concepts and been retained to design a line for the major spring collection of one of the most important houses in this goddamn town?
She took big strides as she headed for the subway. Crash! The thunder sounded like World War III. A few huge drops pocked the sidewalk. Then their big brothers followed and suddenly the whole family of heavy rain drops was attacking the streets, engulfing the streets, flooding the streets.
Susan threw her leatherette sample case over her head. It was more than a foot square and would normally be more than ample protection. But a storm like this would seep through the cover and get to her drawings. She had to seek shelter.
A doorway with several rack movers in it was open and she stepped into it to wait out the rain with the scuffy men and their hand trucks, racks and packages.
"Ahh, bella!"
"Smack, smack, smack."
The rude calls from the Garment Center laborers didn't register in her ears at first. Then she realized she was the only female in the doorway.
"Hey, baby, it's dryer over here next to me. Stand very close, you'll feel a lot better."
Good natured laughter rang around the gathering.
"Hey, mira, muchacha, I know a way to make the time pass quickly. You want I should show you, huh?"
"Mira, come here, pretty one."
They were all grinning and having a good time. It was all in fun. But Susan didn't know that and she got scared. She rushed out into the rain not even bothering to put her case over her head. But the thunder increased and so did the rain. She simply couldn't move. She was soaked. The drawings would be ruined. She saw a truck with the tailgate halfway down. It would be dry. She hopped up on the tailgate and scrambled into the truck. The rain was coming down so hard she couldn't see. But when she got under the protective cover of the truck's roof she realized there were men in the truck. The tall one was black and the other two were Spanish. They'd obviously taken refuge too.
They were passing around a bottle of whiskey and were startled at her appearing so unexpectedly.
"Hello."
The Spanish men looked surprised. But the black man, who had the bottle at the time, rose to his feet. He offered the bottle to her. He wasn't past thirty and slim and broad-shouldered. Why did she notice such things on dark men? The other two were shorter, but one was even better built than the black. He had a powerful chest and almost no hips. The second Puerto Rican was more typical, tending to be thick and paunchy but vital and clear-eyed.
"I ... I was getting wet."
"Don't get a chill, baby. Take a snort of this here."
The black man again offered her the bottle. Susan sneezed.
"Shit, baby, you need this."
The crude talk of the streets of New York sounded almost benign to her by this time and she recognized the friendliness of his gesture rather than the crudity of his expression.
She'd come to live in New York, and if this is what it was like, then this is what she had to learn to live with. She remembered Grandma Penn saying that Lucifer had invented strong drink and that Lucifer used to be an angel and he remembered his upbringing. So strong drink was actually a divine gift. Use it and praise the Lord.
Susan took the bottle, pressed it to her lips and let the cheap booze gurgle into her throat.
"Thank you."
"That's good, baby. Have some more."
Susan took another swallow. It burned. The bottle passed from hand to hand.
"We gonna be in this truck for some long spell. Might as well make the most of our opportunity. Where you headed, honey?"
His eyes no longer looked friendly to her. They glistened with some other feeling.
"I ... I'm going home. When the rain stops."
"It might take a spell. Why don't you unwind and have a quickie?" He glanced at the others. "Three quickies."
He winked at the other men.
Susan didn't understand the words but she certainly understood the meaning. She got to her feet and reached for her portfolio.
"You won't need that just yet, sugar. Come here."
The laborer grabbed her by the shoulders. He was a big man and terribly strong. His hand was far bigger than her shoulder.
"No!"
Anger rang in her voice.
"Bullshit, 'no'!" the black man retorted. "I know you white cunts. You hot-foot it around these trucks twitching your cute little asses and stickin' them painted toes out of 'dem platform shoes, wearin' dem mother fuckin' deck-lo-tages. No my ass! You fuck around this here neighborhood like God had sent you down to make every man bow and scrape to your white pussy. Sheet! You ain't no better than a goat's ass on Saturday night. You is a hot cock-teasin' cunt, you is. I know you, you hungry for any goddamn motherfuckin' prick what can get hard enough to sock it to yuh. Don't kid me, bitch. You's as hungry as the rest of dem."
The other two occupants of the truck crept closer.
"You don't know what you is after. I's gonna show yah. You gonna learn what your pussy's for. This here rain storm gonna be an ed-u-cation, bitch. You about to graduate!"
With that he pulled her tight to his body. One hand held her tight to his torso and the other grabbed her hair. He yanked her head back and planted his inverted fat lips on her mouth. His kiss smothered her mouth and nose. She couldn't breathe. She smashed at his chest with her clenched fist. He pressed harder. She squirmed and dug her fingernails into his flesh.
He pulled her away from his mouth.
"Hot-blooded bitch, ain't you, white cunt?"
And instantly he pressed her to his gigantic mouth again.
She struggled and squirmed but the increasing pressure of the suction of his mouth on her was draining the fight out of her, draining the energy from her. She was getting weaker, growing limp, collapsing, relaxing, sagging in his arms. She was succumbing.
Why did his wide lips feel so good? Why did the curve of his arm around her seem so satisfying? His long, strong legs were like a solid wall as her knees sank next to them. She could feel the bulge of his sex organ protruding, straining at the fabric that held it in.
From behind her the squalls of the storm drove damp breezes into the truck in waves. Thunder crashed. Susan grew more and more relaxed with each splitting sound.
The black man who held her in his muscular arms was maneuvering his mouth back and forth across hers. His huge tongue snuck between her lips and massaged her gums. It was exciting. She liked it. No one had ever done that with such authority before. She pressed her lips against his.
"You gonna love it, baby."
He lowered her onto a pile of canvas-bagged dresses. He gently took the shoes off her feet and ran his hand up and down her calf.
He was smiling at her. She smiled back.
The two Spanish-speaking men crept closer. Suddenly one had a knife at the black man's throat. Oh, God, Susan thought, they're going to defend her honor. She didn't want it defended! She wanted to be fucked by this massive black sex machine.
But the defenders of virtue had their own ideas.
As one pressed his knife to the jugular vein of the tall black stud the other took a rope hanging from the paneling hook and tied his wrists behind his back. Then he looped a rope around the man's neck and secured it to one of the hooks imbedded in the paneling.
"You dirty shits! You motherfucking sons of bitches! Ass-sucking spick sacks of cum! Cock-suckers! Motherfuckers! You're motherfuckers, you're motherfuckers!"
But the two Latins went about their business, which was securing him to the walls of the truck.
Susan didn't move. She just watched the procedure. It never crossed her mind to run. She didn't think she was getting raped; she only thought this is how things are in New York. A young girl walks down the street and gets raped in a truck by one of three men. Two of them turn on the third and then they rape her themselves. This is the natural course of events. By the time it crossed her mind to get the hell out of the truck the two brown-skinned men were through binding their captive. One turned to Susan and started taking down his pants. Susan was in control of herself this time and bolted for the open end of the van.
His pants were half-way down to his knees and he couldn't take big steps so he tackled her. She landed on the dusty floor and instantly her head started throbbing. He pulled her hands behind her back, pinioning her face down on the filthy floor.
All the while the black captive cursed and insulted the two men, who communicated in Spanish in low guttural tones. Susan's whimpering protests were ignored.
She was still lying face down when she felt the first one begin to lie on top of her. He was going to enter her from the rear. With his companion standing over her head so she couldn't attempt any sudden move. The one mounting her, the less attractive of the two, yanked her hips into a kneeling position, with her hands supporting her on all fours. Then he unceremoniously rammed his cock into her cunt. It burned and gripped and smarted. She let out a terrible sharp squeal of agony. The one standing over her slapped her soundly. Before she could react to this unexpected blow the rapist thrust again, tearing her tender and unblemished flesh with the severity of his assault. Tears rolled silently from her eyes almost as fast as the rain smashed on the pavement outside.
Her voice burst out of her unexpectedly. Two sturdy slaps landed on her unprotected face. She knew she was bleeding. She could hear the paneling of the truck strain as the black man struggled to break free. He screamed out his curses. But to no avail. The savage at her head got up and rushed to the back of the truck, picked up a two by four and cracked it across the skull of the helpless Negro tied to the side of the paneling. The black man went limp and his head started bleeding.
Susan's heart sank. Before the idea of three men taking her was exciting and her blood ran hot. Now the hot Spanish blood she had realized she liked was corrupted and disgusting. In these two evil creatures she saw no excitement and no mutual satisfaction.
How horrifying it was for her then to realize that the repeated insertions into her sensitive young flesh were beginning to feel good. Each hard thrust and each tight grab by his fists on her arms or neck or hips was hoped for. No, she wouldn't let herself enjoy it! No, No, No, No!!!!
But when he put his hands on either side of her hips and crawled on his knees closer to her ass and stuck his cock repeatedly into her vulva, stretching it at an angle it had never experienced before, each approach, entrance, penetration and deep intrusion made her long for another. She cursed herself for her lack of decency. But at the same time her curses were being changed into moans, and the moans into murmurs, and the murmurs into sighs, and the sighs into a rhythmic breathing that took its cue from the intrusion of his dark-skinned cock.
With her cooperation coming more definitely with each stroke the Puerto Rican rapist dug his fingers into her slender hips and yanked backwards on her. She was pulled onto his ramrod-stiff cock each time he jerked her. He moved his body so each time she came back his organ was at a different angle. She never knew where the sensation would be felt. But at the angle she was at and the length of his cock, it touched that most sensitive part of her whole being. At first she didn't get any sensation out of it. But nature is stronger than will and by the third such stroke her clitoris was swelling at his forceful massage.
The rude fucking continued and her enjoyment rose with it. Her voice stopped sounding sorry and took on an anxious tone that told her seducer that she was anxious for more of his crude intercourse. His breathing grew more labored, more noisy, more uncontrolled. He was coming, and quickly! He began to rise to his feet, pulling her hips upwards, letting her feet spread apart so she looked like an A-frame house, her ass at the apex. Into her unprotected slit he forced his throbbing penis. A cry laboriously crawled out of his throat as he ground his swollen organ into her punished flesh. His load was so voluminous that before he was through ejaculating it began to drip out of her violated membrane onto the filthy truck bed.
He dropped her abruptly when he had satisfied himself. But it was no respite for Susan. Before she knew it she was flipped over on her back. The second molester was on top of her, his sweaty body instantly pounding into her abused vagina.
She refused to look at him. Instead she fixed her eyes on the unconscious black man hanging limply from the ropes that bound his neck and hands to the panel siding. Blood rolled from his head and was soaking into his shirt.
He may be dead, she thought. Oh, God, what will they do to me when they're through?
The one on top of her now, she remembered, had a good body and a handsome face. No, she wouldn't look!
Abruptly he changed his style. He dug his cock into her as deeply as he could and held it there. He held it deep within her, balanced on the balls of his feet and the palms of his hands. Holding her in position with the sustained thrust of his pelvis held forward, he began to rotate his weight from foot to foot. This caused his cock to make tiny circles inside her. They were slow circles. Slow and even. Methodically he rotated his male pride in her moist hair-fringed lips. He didn't hurry. It was much more pleasurable to him to fuck slowly, allowing each minute sensation to be savored and built upon.
He'd never had a girl who looked like this before, young and slender and beautifully built. She had fine long legs, something that turned him on a lot. She had alabaster skin and long auburn hair which had a slight curl to it and cascaded. Even now, a little wet, it was luxuriant and soft. Either she spent a lot of time brushing and taking care of it or else she didn't live in New York where the air was as harsh on hair as it was on everything else.
He could feel the head of his cock swelling as it parted the soft folds of her flesh.
Susan's back hurt. The floor of the truck was a combination of four-inch-wide wood planks and the two-inch-wide metal strips alternating with each other. Being bounced on it was painful, but now she was staked to it by the hard thrust of his penis. And he was grinding it into her, not jabbing, but grinding it like a mortar in a pestle. All of his movements were in his hips. He must be very agile, she thought. And before she knew it, she was rotating too, in the opposite direction. God, she thought, I'm feeling good. This way is the best of all! No, she wouldn't let herself fall into that way of thinking again. This was rape, maybe murder. But the constant roll of his torso above her and the penetration of his organ was more real, and her body responded. It rolled to the left and then to the right. She knew a great deal of moisture was spreading out of her onto the dust and scraps beneath her. She could feel it trickle down her ass. He was spread-eagled above and she was now able to pull her knees up; this brought his penetrating rod deeper into her. It felt even better. She found it more pleasurable to raise her soft hips. Then she lowered them, then raised them and lowered them again and again. When she'd come up he'd take a quick turn, a faster revolution. She forgot all her fears about what would happen after he'd bathed under the waves of pleasure his fucking sent crashing over her. She couldn't resist it any longer-she had to look at him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Her eyes opened on his neck. She saw the blue veins standing out on either side as he strained to keep his body rigid, which prevented her from getting up and also put spasm of pleasure radiating through her body. His face was just as beautiful as she thought it would be. A small, delicate chin, full mouth, high cheekbones and large brown eyes. His head was crowned with hair much like her own, soft wavelets of brunette tiering down to his neck. He wore a sweat band around his head and looked like a Navajo in the semi-light of the truck.
But it was his eyes that kept her attention. They were not just looking at her, they were caressing her. They were gently rolling over her body. He was looking at her with a gentle and loving expression. His eyes were making love to her!
Could it be? Was this true? He wasn't just getting his rocks off, she thought, he is actually making love. Like Derek used to do with her, and Bill, before he met Eleanor. This young Puerto Rican was dynamite! He wasn't just screwing some girl in a truck, he was making love with all the knowledge he possessed.
Without thinking about it Susan threw her arms around his neck and half pulled him down to her and herself half up to him and kissed him on the mouth as softly and lovingly and tenderly and passionately and enthusiastically as she could.
He was overcome with the feeling she gave him and brought his weight down on his elbows, cradling her scared back in his forearms. He pulled her over on her side and they lay copulating on their sides, her leg raised over his hip. She hung onto his body with her arms and the one free leg. His hands moved to pull the bits of gravel and filth off her back.
Between hot short kisses he tried to express in broken English what he felt.
"I have-d wronged yourself."
Susan knew exactly what he meant.
"No, no, no you haven't. I like it. Me gusta."
He understood that, and his mouth fell on hers. They fucked and kissed. It was mutual now. Each of them relaxed every nerve and Susan felt happier than at any time since she had come to the city. Maybe than at any time in her life. His breathing became more pronounced and she recognized the sign as that of his approaching climax. She kissed him harder, held him tighter and worked her body with more energy to make it even better for him.
His hand grasped her shoulder. He inched forward on the side of his knees and moved his body away from hers so that their bodies formed a swastika. Then his tongue shot out of his mouth and lay a trail of saliva down her chin, down her neck, over her collar and onto her breast. When his tongue and lips were rubbing frantically back and forth on her breast, he began a rapid machine-gun banging with his hips. Their timing grew faster and then, every muscle tightened, he thrust with a mighty jab and held it. She knew this was the moment. Her clinching cunt anchored itself on his throbbing cock. He didn't breathe but worked his hips in the short jabbing strokes that had first aroused her.
When his load of cum had been deposited in her warm folds he drew a deep breath. Susan did too and he put his hand into her hair and guided her soft cheek to rest against his. Neither of them felt the wet or the heat or the dirt or the wood or the metal or the eyes of the other rapist. And none of the three of them felt the life ebb out of the body of the black man tied to the siding.
Susan opened her eyes and took a deep breath. He got up and gave her his hand. They were smiling at each other.
"He is dead!"
They turned to look at the other man pointing in terror at the slumped figure of the black man. His mouth had fallen open and his chest didn't heave. His shirt was soaked with blood.
Terror went across the face of all three. The first rapist was turning around in circles, banging his fists to his forehead, muttering in Spanish. The second began heaving in short breaths. His eyes grew to double their size. He fastened his pants. His friend kept muttering, his muttering getting louder. He was freaking out. Susan was motionless.
"Mira!" The second grabbed his companion by the shoulders and shoved him towards the tailgate.
The rain was still crashing down. They jumped and landed on the asphalt. The second one, who only a moment before was making beautiful love to her, turned his brown eyes up to Susan with terror and pleading and a terrible feeling of loss. They were telling her so many things at once it was a more powerful moment for both of them than the climax of their sex had been.
Then the two Puerto Rican young men ran through the rain and out of her life forever.
Susan had her fingers in her mouth as she turned her head slowly to look at the dead man. It was true.
I can't ignore this, I can't run away, she thought. She calmly opened her purse and took out her comb. She thoroughly combed out every scrap of fabric and dirt. She brushed the back of her clothing with it too. Carefully she cleaned off her sample portfolio. Except for the fact that she was dry there was no evidence she'd been in the truck. She glanced around to see if there was anything to indicate she'd been there. There wasn't. Wait a minute, she thought, a glance won't do. She walked up and down the bed of the truck. The whiskey bottle! They'd left it. Fingerprints. She picked it up. There was nothing else.
Susan hopped into the street. Almost instantly she was drenched. It was raining harder than before. The drawings. Fuck the drawings. She'd make new ones. A human life had been taken, and while she didn't have the heart to inform on the murderers-that's what they were-she couldn't leave him there. It wouldn't be right. But who could she tell? At the corner she was soaked. There was a trash basket. She dropped the evidence, the bottle, into it. There were two others in it. No need to worry they'd never be connected with the body in the truck.
Across her mind flashed thoughts of the dead man. Who was he? Did he have a family? A wife? Children? Was he a good person, or bad? No, she wouldn't think about it. She'd go mad.
She felt tears running down her face.
"Honey, why don't you get out of the rain?"
She didn't realize it, but she was standing at the corner crying. Now she was looking up to a mounted policeman in a black rubber slicker and blue helmet.
Her heart didn't skip a beat, she just looked up to him forlornly.
He saw only a bedraggled, wet child weeping in a stinking hot rain storm.
"My drawings ... they're wet. All my work...."
The policeman had had this beat long enough to know how important drawings were to fashion designers. It was their whole life.
"Com'on, honey, give me the case."
She handed the portfolio to him.
He swung it over the neck of the horse and then took his foot out of the stirrup.
"All right. Give me your hand."
Susan, like a zombie, limply extended her arm.
The muscular cop took it securely. As Susan placed her foot high into the stirrup he expertly swung her up and she slid onto the broad back of the horse behind him. Her skirt split a little bit but she didn't care. Her thigh was exposed but that didn't bother her. No one was on the street to see her anyway. The horse was warm.
With a jump the horse was guided into a trot. Their bodies slid from side to side as the horse clopped across the cobblestones and asphalt past the very truck Susan had just jumped out of. With the driving rain and the big dark opening in the back she couldn't see into the truck. Apparently, no one had seen in either. She'd have to hope no one was watching the storm from a window and had seen her exit the truck. But in a way she didn't care. The thought crossed her mind as did the realization that the passion of a Latin man was the most satisfying thing she had ever experienced. Twice in her life she had unconsciously found herself giving her physical all to a Latin. And both times it had been when she was being raped. It was a heavy trip to lay on a twenty-year-old girl. She liked Latin looks, smells, touch and technique. No one she knew could ever satisfy her so much. She sighed out loud and wrapped her arms around the broad torso of the big Irish cop as the horse clopped-clopped up the street.
Suddenly it occurred to Susan that she didn't know where they were headed.
But before she could ask him the horse stepped over the curb and into a delivery entrance between two thirty-story buildings. If Manhattan had alleys this would be an alley. Or half an alley. Obviously the iron gate with sheets of galvanized tin over it and the tin roof were there for some reason. But whatever it was, it was now used as a place for the mounted policeman to leave his horse. The small area reeked of horse odor. A bucket hung on an iron peg. It said "Fire" on it but it wasn't filled with sand; it was a water bucket for the horse.
"Get down."
The policeman offered his big hand to help her slide off the beast. When she was standing on the ground he handed down her soggy portfolio. Then he swung his cape off with a cavalier swirl that showered water in a 360 degree radius. "Ooops, sorry."
He gingerly came down from his mount and stood looking at wet, worried, exhausted Susan.
"I'll go get you some hot coffee. Or would you prefer tea? While I'm gone, get out of those wet clothes and wrap that blanket around you. It's the horse's but forget the smell, it's better than pneumonia."
"Coffee, thanks."
He went out the gate.
Susan tugged and stretched and peeled off what had been her best outfit. She took everything off. For a moment she stood stark naked on West 38th Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues in Manhattan, something that may have never been done since the Indians moved off the island.
She took the heavy dry blanket off a peg and covered herself with it. The horse was stamping back and forth and shaking his mane dry, which sprayed water over everything else. Susan saw curry brushes and rags on a peg. She began to dry off the horse. Her uncle had a country place and she rode there often. She knew how to care for a horse.
The policeman opened the gate on a surprising sight. Susan had put the blanket back on its peg and was stark-naked on tiptoe drying off the mammoth four-legged steed. The cop was aroused by the beautiful sight. A trim, muscular, long-haired girl leaning up against the proud stallion, moving her pale arms over its dark hide.
He didn't want to let this kid know he was aroused by the pink and white ass he riveted his eyes on. She was lovely. The smell, the almost public place, the rain, the fact that she needed comforting-all of it crashed together in his head and somehow lodged itself in his penis. He had a hard-on. This girl running the brush over his mount was a sexual fantasy come true. He'd often lain awake nights thinking what it would be like to use a beautiful woman for a saddle and to ride naked over the fields with his prick imbedded in her cunt as she lay on the back of his fine horse. He pictured it like those "Europa and the Bul!" paintings, her long hair blending with the horse's mane. But he was a cop. He couldn't let down his image. "I'll do that."
That response, he figured, would minimize her embarrassment at being caught nude and not reveal anything about himself.
Susan turned around with a start.
Her full breasts bounced back and forth just a little, the areola still swollen from the enticing tongue of the Puerto Rican who had fucked her next to the dead body. The cop dropped the steaming coffee cups as his body halted and his mouth dropped open. He was only 26 and a breast man.
Susan reached for the blanket. But before she could touch it, he'd recovered and stepped forward in one gigantic move and put his hand firmly on the blanket. Her hand landed on top of his. Her eyes looked up to his stern but boyish face.
"I'm not married and I haven't been laid in three months. I love women's breasts. And yours are beautiful. I have never seen such a beautiful sight as your soft white skin against the chestnut brown and hairy texture of Apollo. This minute I would give anything in the world to have sex with you."
He hesitated just a second. Susan didn't move. He slid his huge hand off the blanket and moved it to the ends of her long flowing hair. He raised the auburn tresses to his lips and kissed them, keeping his steely stare on her perfect face. When his lips planted their tender kiss on the hair, Susan slumped as her heart subsided in her full breast.
"I want to make love to you."
Again she didn't move. Only her mind moved. And it moved toward him.
His soul understood the unseen shift. He pulled the blue helmet from his head and for the first time Susan gazed on his fine brow and row after row of black curly hair.
She wanted him.
He stood in front of her, with his helmet dangling from his hand.
Susan didn't know how to tell him she loved what he had said. She followed instinct and brought one hand into her hair, dragged it through her mouth and slowly turned her back to him, rubbing her naked flesh over the sweaty side of the horse. She pressed her breasts all over the coat of the handsome stallion. She turned around and rubbed her back across its ribs, then she ran her arm into the warm area under its flank.
The handsome young giant of a cop let his shiny helmet fall to the ground and stepped forward. She drew more hair through her partially opened lips as he bent his knees and slowly placed his masculine lips on her tender red mouth. His powerful chest pressed her against the solid haunch of the mount.
The cop let his hands slide to her neck, and then his fingers trickled through her long hair. He spread it over the horse's side. His tongue authoritatively entered her mouth, much as he would enter a room. It took complete charge and guided the angle of her willing head. Then his hands slid over her smooth shoulder and descended down her white sides and came to rest on the soft curve of her womanly hips.
She could feel the strong muscles of the animal behind her and the strong muscle between the legs of the policeman in front of her. It seemed overly long. But maybe just its head made her think that.
He let his hands climb up her torso and rest at the base of her full breasts with their bright red nipples. Then slowly his rough fingertips inched up the curve of their full undersides and ran their sandpaper edge over the extending nipple. He worked his fingertips in circles. She was alive with the sensation. Her thoughts went to the Puerto Rican in the truck. Then the dead man flashed into her mind. Her gasp of breath at the thought was misinterpreted by her tall, broad-shouldered policeman. He bent his knees and let his trim figure drop to a level where his well-formed mouth was level with her protruding pale breast. His lips puckered as he moved her forward, and he planted them on the knob of sensitive flesh that crowned her bulging breast. He tightened his lips, relaxed them, and kept alternating in a sucking action that brought instant firmness to the whole areola.
Then his arms went around her and his face slid up to hers. She was totally receptive to his desires. His arms tenderly grasped her, enfolded her and raised her off the ground. His muscular body raised her to the back of the horse. She cooperated by throwing her leg over the flanks. She was sitting on the horse but facing backwards. Then the tall policeman stepped back and began unbuttoning his shirt. When the buttons were undone and he pulled the material apart it was like opening two gigantic ceremonial doors. His firm chest protruded above a flat waist. He wore a sleeveless undershirt. The dark hair of his armpits and chest --edged over it like foliage clambering out of a flower pot. He was bare-chested when he knelt down and undid his riding boots. But he didn't look at them. The whole time he kept his stare fixed on the beautiful female sitting backwards on his beloved Apollo.
His boots were off and the britches were down. He wore white boxer shorts. But their fullness didn't allow enough material to keep the male organ out of sight, for it hung a full inch beneath the fabric. Susan gasped! It had to be nine or ten inches long! And it wasn't ramrod stiff either.
Her eyes must have bulged at the sight because he smiled and said, "I want to make you feel good. In every way."
With that he stepped closer and placed his hands on her knees on either side of the broad back of the horse. He rubbed his palms over her thighs. Then he slid them behind her cheeks and pulled her vagina closer to his face. His chin rested on top of the horse's tail. He stuck out his tongue like a lizard flicking for food.
Susan was consumed with ecstasy. She helped him slide her body toward the darting tongue and lay back, entwining her hands in the horse's mane for balance. She raised her knees. This opened her pussy all the more to the magnificent man who was running his tongue around his lips in preparation.
His lips were in an exaggerated pucker as his tongue emerged from the protuberance and touched the soft folds of her vulva. She lay like Europa awaiting the entrance of the god.
His tongue slowly moved forward, made contact and rose up the slit. It didn't go in, it just went up the edges. Then, like a Ferris wheel it circled back and made contact with the bottom, rubbed up and circled back again. This time a little deeper. The wheel action continued, each time getting deeper and staying longer. Her tension mounted. When he got to the top of the red and white cave he kept his tongue in and moved it back and forth. Then he sent it in further. Her clitoris was right above his wagging tongue. His fingers kneaded her fleshy hips. Then his strong tongue made contact with her bud of feeling. Like his fingers had done on her nipples, his tongue rubbed back and forth on the sensitive button. Then he reversed the Ferris wheel movement and went down from the clitoris between her legs and circled around and around.
Susan could hardly control herself. He left his tongue in her and forced it even further. She moaned and tossed and turned. He wanted to massage her breasts but was afraid she'd fall off the broad back of the warm horse.
Before she knew it he had brought his face up from her cunt and was sliding on top of her. He placed his feet on a bucket and then pulled himself up on the flanks of the horse. Susan let her legs fall to either side of the animal and awaited the massive weight of his body. But he didn't lie on her. He instead sat facing her, his legs dangling on either side next to hers.
His massive legs gripped the flanks of the horse expertly. His hands were free to explore the other flesh, the warming and exciting flesh of the pale-skinned beauty with the full breasts and the long hair.
His hands moved up her stomach and rib cage. They slid over the fullness of her red-tipped breasts and rested on the horse's shoulders, on either side of her slender neck. She felt the length of his long cock drag against her leg. He moved one hand down to guide it into her.
"It's so long I have to guide it with my hand."
The head of the long flexible organ was nugged into her anxious opening. The moisture it exuded was almost like what she'd secreted less than an hour ago with the handsome Puerto Rican. The head of his cock caught the angle of her quivering flanges and she arched her hips to grasp more of it. He moved forward. It slid into the waiting opening, and she played the outer and inner valves with all the control she could master. Their hips moved in harmony. Further and further it went. How long was it? It seemed to be doubling back on itself, snaking around, filling crevices she never knew she had. Their bodies squirmed and wiggled and flexed as they fucked on the back of the horse. Then he anchored them securely by bracing his weight on his elbows and took her swollen tits in his hand and pushed them up to her chin so his mouth could easily move from one to another. His tongue and lips flashed from sucking one to licking the other. Back and forth, sharing the sensations one after the other.
The horse shifted his weight. The weight shifting from one foot to another made them squirm to keep their balance and enhanced their pleasure.
But the backbone of the animal was not comfortable for Susan, try to ignore it as she did. He understood.
"Put your arms around my neck," he said.
She did so without questioning.
When her arms were securely around his thick neck he locked his powerful legs around the belly of his mount and placed one arm beneath her shoulders. With a gentle ease he raised her to a sitting position.
"Now walk backwards on your hips."
Using his broad shoulders for balance she worked her fleshy hips an inch at a time backwards, moving her torso towards the shoulders of the chestnut stallion. The sticky warm hair of the horse pricked at her flesh. It was abrasive, but she didn't care.
"Hang on tight to me."
She did so with total confidence.
Still with his bare feet planted firmly against the sides of his patient horse, he brought his powerful hands under her arms and lifted her 105 pounds into the air.
"Guide my cock in."
She reached down and pointed the nozzle-like head of his prick to the dripping opening of her hungry pussy.
Her legs slid over his knees and up his thighs. He kept his feet firmly against the sides of the horse and lowered her body down, down his long veiny cock.
Balanced on his muscular legs and with her arms around his neck she swiveled her hips and flexed and relaxed her young labia. His tongue and mouth slid from breast to breast. Hair, sweat and muscles, and the odor of their bodies mingled with the heat and aroma of Apollo. She pushed her pudenda to him. He added thrusts to his repertory. Her breathing heavily only added to his excitement. Her deep breaths grew to moans and then to mumbled words. "Oh, yes. Yes. Ohhhh. Yes!"
He sucked on her breasts. His gigantic cock slid back and forth inside her, rubbing everywhere. As she gripped his full manhood, the sensations it produced in her body made everything else evaporate. She didn't feel the heat or the rain or the horse or anything. All she was conscious of was the rhythm of the pleasures wafting through her body.
The rubbing deep within her brought on all his suppressed passion. He grew hotter. Her breasts drove him frantic with energy. His fingers tightened on her. His cock worked faster. She plunged down on his lengthy weapon. He humped with all his skill and his cum exploded into the crowded cunt. He let an animal groan go out of him as it spewed forth. It was the most satisfying intercourse he had ever had. All his fantasies were fulfilled.
After a minute of suspended animation he raised her from the impaling cock and rested her plump cheeks on the wet horse's back. His cock snaked out of her cunt, which let a rivulet of semen trickle out onto the bare back of the horse.
Susan sat upright and pulled a long strand of hair off her perspiring face. The policeman slid to the ground.
Standing there spent, he looked like a human version of the fine horse. For he was hung just like the stallion.
His chest was heaving and the sweat poured off him. He raised his heavily muscled arms up to help her down, and as she swung her leg over and slid into his arms, he grasped her very close and held her tenderly, nuzzling her.
"I want to see you again. But this is a moment that will never be recaptured. So I'll get you a taxi and never forget you. Good-bye."
With that wisdom he knew he'd always have this glorious moment. Susan understood it, too.
They dressed in silence. Susan couldn't get into her clothes; they were too wet. So she bundled her clothes together and struggled into only her panties.
"Please put me in a taxi with this blanket. I can't get into my clothes. Where shall I return it?"
"Keep it for as long as you'd like as a souvenir. I'll report it to the department as lost."
He was dressed and slid into the arms of the black rubber slicker.
"I'll get the cab. You ready?"
"Yes."
The New York cop, probably the only person not waving a $20 bill able to get an "off duty" cab in a rain storm, easily halted the first one he saw and ordered him to drive the wrong way down the one-way street. The cab sloshed to a stop in front of the iron gate and the handsome policeman went in and brought out the young beauty he'd just fucked astride his departmental issue horse. But behind the corrugated tin that hid them from the view of the driver, he put his muscled arm around her and kissed her willing lips tenderly.
And then he was professional and led her to the taxi.
"This is an emergency. Take her home and don't throw the flag."
"But what'll the supervisor say? I gotta account for my mileage."
"Mister, you heard me. Get this cab in gear and don't talk to the passenger. Now get the hell out of here!"
As the muttering driver pulled away, Susan kept her moist eyes on the blue-helmeted policeman. He stood in the street and watched the cab splash away. She watched him through the back window. The rain trickled off his great black slicker.
CHAPTER FIVE
New York's finest, she thought.
As the taxi neared the corner Susan noticed a large empty space next to the curb, always unusual in New York. It was the spot the truck had been in. It was gone! What had happened? Had they found the body? Her mind was agitated. The abusive black man who only minutes later was dead, the Puerto Ricans who raped her and her enjoyment of it, the rain, the horse, the Adonis that rode him. Her head was swimming. Had it all happened? But here she was, in a taxi wrapped in a horse blanket. She thought about the unexplained joy of the penetration she'd received from three men that afternoon. The cop was gigantic and good. But the Puerto Ricans-their passion was beyond belief. The myth of the Latin lover was grounded in something. Desire was creeping through her body again.
"Here you are, lady."
Susan was surprised to find herself in front of her building. She glanced at the driver. He was swarthy with big dark eyes. She looked at the identification next to the blank meter. "Manuelo Torres."
Susan's heart leaped. He had a nice face.
"I'm sorry you didn't get a fare for this trip. I'm ... I'm a little weak. Could you help me upstairs?"
She let the blanket slip enough to show her breasts to advantage.
Six hours later a yellow cab pulled away from the front of her building. The driver contemplated how he'd explain to his wife why he was so late for dinner.
All weekend she worked on the drawings for her important first job. She worked on the floor because she didn't have a drawing board. Sunday afternoon about three she was no longer doing her best work and decided to give herself a break and take a walk in Central Park. She wanted to see Bethesda Fountain, the source of some of the most influential fashion trends of the past two seasons. The young people there had influenced Seventh Avenue with their bush jackets, faded jeans, patches, halters and 1940's jewelry. They gathered on weekends at the fountain and the outdoor restaurant. It was a show place for ideas.
The afternoon was hot, but the greenery of the park and the sloping terrain made her quite relaxed. She forgot the aches and pains of sitting on the floor and trying to work on drawings of the fall collection. She watched as Spanish-speaking families happily tripped past with picnic hampers. The wives were uniformly chubby. The husbands, to a man, had pot bellies. The youngsters were either terribly skinny or much too fat. What did those people eat? But they were happy enough.
Now and then she'd see a trim athletic young man on a bicycle. She knew in a few years they would look like their overfed fathers. It was a shame. They were darn handsome some of them. Why let themselves go?
As she started to cross the street she didn't look at the oncoming bicycle traffic and one of those tank-topped, bronze young men ran into her, knocking her to the ground.
"You all right, senorita?"
"I ... I think so."
He dropped his bicycle and helped her up. She was more surprised and dazed than hurt. A crowd gathered. New Yorkers love any kind of excitement and an accident is just the thing to bring total strangers together for a brief moment.
Susan looked around as she tried to tuck some tufts of hair back into her pony tail. The crowd that gathered was entirely too large for the tiny accident it was. She felt embarrassed.
"Let's go over this way. I'll get you some water."
He put his hand under her elbow and guided her gently to her feet. She looked up at him. He was Puerto Rican, about her age and exceptionally athletic. She could tell because he had a sweatband on each wrist and on his forehead. Sweatsox with red and green stripes flowed over the top of his tennis shoes. He wore shorts, briefer than most, to accent his heavily muscled legs. His hips were trim and his torso was long. And his face-it was angular, and his fine Spanish nose was in proportion to the large features. His hair was curly and the veins stood out on his arms. He was one hell of a man. He supported her arm and walked his cycle toward a water fountain. A fat little girl in a party dress was slurping at the water. She drank more than would a dromedary headed for the desert. Then she ran to her mother, flapping her flat feet noisely.
He took the water bottle off his bicycle, filled it with fresh water and offered it to her.
"At least it's clean."
"Thank you."
Susan couldn't help noticing the bulge in his crotch. He must be very well endowed, she thought. Or maybe his sex organs just stood out more because his body was so well muscled. Now that she thought about it, this was the first time she'd ever seen a true athlete up close.
"Are you ... are you a bicycle racer?-I notice you have a racing bike."
"I belong to a bike club and we do race, but I wouldn't call myself a bicycle racer," he said. "My name is Carlos Rodriguez."
He waited for her to introduce herself.
"I'm Susan McAlister."
"You are not a New Yorker. You are from the south, yes?"
"Does my accent give me away?" Susan said, exaggerating the accent.
"It gives you away and it gives you great charm."
Except for Peggy, the girl she'd met in the cafeteria, this was the first compliment she'd had directed to her personally since coming to New York. The shock of the abrupt tumble and the heat and the idea of it all overcame her and she started to cry.
"You are hurt, senorita! Please, sit down, I will get help."
"No, no. I'm really fine. I'm just emotional."
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, really, thank you. Maybe I'd better go home."
"Are you alone?"
"I can get home all right."
"Please let me take you there."
"I'm quite close, really. No need. I'm just on 76th."
"Then I insist. Mira! Paco! My bike, por favor."
Another young Puerto Rican came up. He too was athletic and attractive. Susan thought to herself-are all the young men from Puerto Rico this attractive? Then where do all the fat tired married men come from? This Paco had a smile every bit as engaging as his friend's. But Paco's crotch was bulging dramatically. He must have one of those fantastic Latin cocks.
There was a quick exchange in Spanish, then the other youth nodded to Susan and took the bicycle. Carlos gave Susan his hand and they started toward Central Park West.
As they walked, Carlos asked her questions. Yes, she was new to the city. No, she wasn't a student. Yes, she was working in the Garment center. Carlos' mother operated a sewing machine for Mankowitz and Schwartz. Did she know the firm? No, she didn't. And before she realized it, they were at her building.
"If you are sure you are all right, I will leave you, senorita. You are guaranteed you are all well?"
Susan smiled. He was really nice.
"Would you like to come up for a cold drink? I even have some chilled rose in the refrigerator."
"If you would like, I would like. Muy gracias."
"De nada."
Carlos smiled broadly at the basic Spanish she was using.
When he smiled it made Susan feel good, too, and she was truly glad that this young man was to be her first guest.
They crossed the lobby and the elderly ladies sitting gossiping with their hair in net wind-protectors looked silly sitting indoors on a hot summer afternoon bundled up for a blizzard. Susan knew enough of genteel bitchery to know they were thinking it was disgraceful for a young girl to be seen entering a building with a Puerto Rican. All the sorority two-facedness and the middle-class hypocrisy that she hated seemed to manifest themselves in the two old crones in the lobby. As she stood before the elevator doors, Susan turned to Carlos and said, "I haven't thanked you properly for assisting me."
With that she threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his mouth. She held it. He was shocked and froze. The elevator arrived. Susan broke away, took his hand and led him into the elevator. He was still aghast as they turned and faced the door. As it began to close, Susan waved to the open-mouthed women.
The doors were closed and the bumping machinery was operating when he firmly took hold of both her hands. He yanked her to face him.
"You wish to make a fool of me? I am not anxious to be made a fool of. I do not know what you think of me, but I am suspecting it is very little."
Susan blushed. She hadn't thought about what he might think.
"I'm ... I'm sorry. It was just those women.
They were gossiping about us. They made me angry and I wanted to shock them. I should have had more feeling. I'm sorry."
He thought about it for a minute.
"Still friends?"
"Yes."
They got off at 12 and Susan unlocked her double locks.
Carlos was a little taken aback at the austerity of the apartment. The mattress on the floor, the clothes in the suitcases, the totally barren walls-it was monastic. There wasn't even a chair, only a backless stool.
Susan poured them each a paper cup of wine and they chatted about the park, bicycles and fashion. Carlos was a designer, too. He had graduated from FIT, the school for fashion design located near the garment center. Instantly they fell into a deep discussion of trends, theory, specifics, dreams and idols. They both admired a name designer who lived in the Chelsea Hotel. Carlos had not only met him but had been a messenger boy for one of his showings. He'd ridden his bicycle all over Manhattan delivering packages and messages for the preparation of the show. Susan was impressed by the humanity Carlos showed when he condemned the man as an employer but praised him as an artist. He was a shit, but a talent.
It was dark before they knew it. Carlos said he would have to be home soon or his mother would worry. He hesitantly asked if he could phone her. Susan didn't have a phone. There was a race next Wednesday in the park. Would she like to come to the picnic to be held after the event?
She'd be delighted.
Everyone there would be a bike enthusiast and maybe she would feel out of place. But it would thrill him to have her come.
She'd be there.
On Wednesday she put on blue jeans and an orange plunging neckline halter, bright red earrings, painted her toenails red, put on pink and red plastic bracelets, pulled her hair into a dancer's bun, stepped into sandles and headed for the starting point of the bicycle race. She was hoping Carlos would win.
She was surprised to find the starting area filled with children and their parents, each group cheering on a family member. She found Carlos busily doing something about his chain. He had on the sweat-bands, tennis shoes and slit shorts. Number 16 was on his tank top. His whole face lit up at seeing her. He introduced her to his brother. Then his other brother. His sister. His other sister. The twins. The baby. His father. His mother. His uncle. His aunt. Their five children. Susan thought of population explosion.
As the starting gun was being readied and the contestants lined up, she wanted to kiss Carlos. She wanted desperately for him to know how she wanted him to win. Her mind flashed to history classes. Of course!
She rushed across the starting line, just as the starter raised his gun. She was tearing at her hair, pulling the yarn ribbons off her tight bun. The pink and red and orange yarn was the only token she could give him to carry. He was concentrating on the race and was as surprised as everyone else to see her rush up to him. Without a word she tied the yarn around the shoulder strap of his tank top. Carlos gaped at her.
"It's like a medieval knight carrying a lady's favor into battle. It means I want you to win."
She kissed him on the cheek. Then she ran back to the sidelines.
The crowd let out a cheer, "Viva!" Carlos, championed by her action, was the favorite.
"Bang!" The race was on!
Powerful calves pressed on the peddles. Well-oiled wheels rolled. Powerful chests pulled in air and strong hands gripped the handles. The assemblage cheered. Children jumped up and down with excitement. Women stood on tiptoe. Men waved and yelled. Susan jumped and waved and yelled and clenched her fists and screamed.
The bicyclists tortured their legs as they sped around the curved paths of the park.
Carlos pressed down on the pedals with all his might. With the pink and orange and red material streaming from his powerful shoulder he was damned determined to win. He ignored caution and took curves and corners at breakneck speed.
Up the hills of the northern end of the park the contestants sped. Bouncing and panting they ascended the hills. Intent and determined they sped down the slopes. A few fell behind, the victims of overeating, lack of practice and no ambition.
But a few, like Carlos, led the pack. Past the reservoir and down the west side they raced. Paco was the leader, Carlos was a poor third. Paco began to tire. The second lead took over. Carlos pumped harder. The new leader was someone he didn't like.
His competitive instincts came to the fore. He pedaled with more energy. The leader felt the contention and abandoned his training. He pedaled wildly. He became erratic, and his smooth straight line became an unsteady, then a wobbly and, finally, a meandering line. Passion, rather than control, became his driving force. Carlos, trying to do his best, was steadfastly pedaling determinedly.
The towers of the San Remo were on the horizon. The Victorian facade of the Dakota was over his shoulder. Only yards to go before the finish. Carlos pedaled with all his fury. Now he pedaled with abandoned passion. He saw the crowd at the finish line. His breathing was all he was aware of. He couldn't hear the shouting. He pedaled furiously. His head low, his hands tight around the handles, his knees pumping up and down, his neck muscles strained, his calves aching and his feet hurting, he pumped like a wild man. He couldn't see the leader.
There was a smear of color on the left that made him focus on that side. The blur became two figures. They were children jumping up and down. It was the twins. They were more excited than he'd ever seen them. They hugged each other. That's when he knew he'd won. He didn't even see Susan or his father or mother.
Then the whole aggregation was visible. "Viva! Viva!" were the yells.
Carlos looked over the crowd of congratulators to see his parents and Susan. He saw his father with a can of beer in his hand raised in a toast. By this time, the bike was at a standstill in a crowd of jumping and shouting well-wishers. He slid his left leg over the bike and let it fall gently to the ground.
He rushed to his father who embraced him with open arms. His beer slopped over his arm.
"I'm so proud of you, my boy! So proud!"
Carlos hugged his father. His father's friends crowded around and congratulated him in three languages. Suddenly, his father started intoning. It was a speech. He wasn't talking to Carlos, he was addressing the crowd.
"My son is the greatest bicyclist in America!"
"Viva," the crowd responded.
"My son is the greatest in the world!"
"Viva" came the response again.
"I thank the saints for your success."
And with that his father poured his beer over Carlos' head. The emotion and admiring throng rushed the hero, and wine and beer and Coca Cola poured over him.
Carlos shook off the liquid and stood panting and happy and proud among a crowd of screaming children and yelling adults.
"Mama!"
"My Carlos. We are proud of you! Everybody, everybody! My son, Carlos Jose Augusto! He won!"
Susan kissed him theatrically and then the crowd swept in, congratulating him, then everyone had a drink and then they ate. And ate. And ate.
It was several hours later when Carlos walked his bike beside Susan to the 76th Street apartment.
"Won't you come up for a drink?"
"No, thank you. I must go home and help Paco fix his bike. Something went wrong with his gears."
Susan was more than taken aback. She had been thinking about the beautiful Carlos for days. She expected ... she thought ... it seemed natural to her that he'd want....
"Of course, if you must." There was more than a little pique in her voice.
He said goodnight, kissed her and swung one powerful leg over his bicycle, hunched over the handle bars and disappeared down the street.
"Shit." She said it out loud. She slammed the door as she went in. Upstairs she drew the hottest bath she could stand and then didn't get into it. Instead she tried to read a back copy of Women's Wear Daily. She couldn't concentrate. She threw the newspaper down and stomped around the room. The heat of her body was overpowering. She knew what was causing it. But that didn't make it any the less intense.
When the newly installed phone rang she was just about to put her hand to her breast. Manipulating her nipples in a slow roll felt so good and led to further gratification. The phone prevented that.
CHAPTER SIX
It was Peggy wanting to know if she'd like to go to a discotheque with her and her Wall Street boyfriend.
Susan was showered and dressed in twenty minutes. They picked her up in front of the building. Philip was a classic stuffed Brooks Brothers shirt. He was actually in a banker's pin-striped suit to go to a discotheque! And his hair was cut Early Eisenhower. But Peggy liked him, so Susan said nothing.
Philip passed the head waiter five dollars to make sure they had a table not too near the band and not directly under an air conditioning duct. When the waitress came around he asked for a fresh ashtray. Peggy ate up all this attention. Susan thought he'd be so busy getting his, he'd never have a good time. She decided it was none of her business and decided she'd enjoy herself anyway.
The discotheque was in the East 80's with a Spanish name she didn't recognize. But it was obviously the place to be. The fashion parade put the Bethesda Fountain strictly in the sticks. The mirrors on the shoes, the lame, the amount of exposed flesh and the accessories were spectacular. Gaudy makeup with petite butterflies painted on the temples and three shades of eye shadow were out. The girls, and some of the guys, no longer had eyes like Cleopatra but a more natural and alluring appearance.
Dancing, too, was more intimate. The wild fringes and athletic endeavors had given way to versions of the Lindy. One's partner was again important.
Philip, of course, asked her to dance. He knew the steps exactly and performed them with mathematical accuracy. He held her chair when they sat down again.
By the third dance he had calculated the take at the door for the night. (He was $45 off.)
Most of the couples were Susan's age. It was the most integrated group she'd ever seen, except for a subway. There were some Europeans there, being shown the town by American friends. Several slender blonde Scandinavian girls were very much the center of attention. A lot of the blacks were asking them to dance.
"Excuse me. I was wondering if you would enjoy a dance with me?"
A glance at the tall dignified young man brought an enthusiastic "yes" to her throat.
"If you will excuse us?" He addressed it to Peggy and Philip. Then he extended his hand. It was El Greco slender and the finger nails were polished. Susan had never seen a man's nails with polish on them, although she knew clear polish was not uncommon in other countries. Philip stood up as they stepped away from the table.
When they were enveloped by the dancers, the tall young man with his shirt open to the navel winked at her."
"Who's the museum piece?"
"My friend's date. My host, actually."
"I was surprised to see two together chicks with Mr. Uptight. Is he a rich kid?"
"I think so, but Peggy likes him. She's rich, too."
"What's his game?"
"He's a stockbroker, Wall Street."
"Figures."
"You ask a lot of questions. Mind answering a few?"
He gave her a chance to ask. She stared at his eyes a minute. They had a hard quality. It excited her.
"Just what's your game?"
"I make a buck here and there. I sponsor people. I do a little A&R for a couple of friends of mine who produce records. And I make myself useful to people. The usual Big Apple hustle."
It sounded almost like code. Susan decided to play it cool and not let her ignorance show. The hair on his chest was thick and black. The gold chain he wore and the half-dollar-size medallion it held was almost lost in its bed of black curly hair. He moved his legs high when he danced, yet kept his back straight. Susan thought he probably never relaxed it. Anyone who lived by his wits couldn't afford to. But at the same time he was more with-it than Philip.
"What's your name?"
He smiled.
"Actually it's Francisco Norberto Diaz-Costa but around town I'm known as Frank Costa. The Costa's Italian, the rest is pure Puerto Rican. A handy combination in this town. What's yours?"
He thought Susan was an okay name. It could be sweet and demure or sizzling. Good name for Manhattan.
She was getting more fascinated.
They danced three straight sets. Then he took her to the bar and they had a drink. His conversation was a trip. Susan wanted to go to bed with him. He picked up her vibes.
They went back to the table. Philip was instantly on his feet. Susan introduced him. Philip and Peggy had arranged to take her out because she didn't know anyone in town. Now that she had met someone she liked, Philip quickly asked the tall dark stranger to join them.
"Thanks, Phil."
They all three looked startled. It was probably the only time in his life Philip had been called Phil. Bright-eyed Frank grinned broadly.
After perfunctory conversation, Frank invited Peggy to dance and Philip properly led Susan to the glass floor. Susan was able to see the way Frank's hips stuck out as he danced, bending down to compensate for Peggy's cute 5'2".
They were quickly back at their table and Frank took Susan to the floor again. After a few more sets he suggested he take her home. When he said it he had his hands on her waist. He'd just finished doing some bumps and grinds that left no doubt as to what he wanted. But Susan wanted it too. He was terribly sexy and she was mad as hell at Carlos.
Susan looked absolutely triumphant as she led him back to the table.
Philip felt like he'd done a noble deed. Peggy beamed and Susan kissed her on the cheek with a great deal of gratitude. They both understood exactly what was meant. Seldom had two women become true friends in so short a time.
Frank said good night to several people on the way out. He was well-known. He said a few words to the manager as they left and nodded his head to a table of cheap-looking girls. The manager nodded and slapped him on the back.
Susan didn't care what all that meant.
It didn't surprise Susan that Frank got a cab right away. He was the type that did.
He didn't even ask her if he could come up. He just paid off the cab from a fat wad of bills, took her arm and walked her into her apartment house as if it were his own.
The vigilant gargoyles were squatting on their perch in the lobby, beaks instantly turned to each other in a low-toned statement of the obvious.
"Another dark one. Shameless."
"She's probably a run-away. Her poor mother."
When the doors closed on them in the elevator his hands were instantly on her hips pulling her to him. His mouth had thoroughly explored hers by the time the machine reached the 12th floor.
"Would you like a drink?"
"No."
His long arms wrapped around her and, as they kissed, those big hands wandered all over her back and ass.
"Yeah, you're fine."
He went through her hair and under her halter. "Wait, wait a minute."
"What for?"
Susan was stumped for words.
He pulled something she couldn't see out of his pocket and then brought his mouth slowly to her. His tongue entered her mouth. It only took a moment of hesitation before she responded with a slight tugging with her mouth. He increased the amount of his tongue in her and added suction of his own. Then his hands left her body and brought whatever it was he'd taken from his pocket to her nostril.
"Inhale this, but not too much."
It was an aluminum cylinder about two or three inches long.
"What is it?"
"You'll see."
"I ... I don't think...."
But he expertly had it in her nostril and his thumb blocked the other nostril. "Just a little."
Curiousity was part of Susan's nature. She drew her breath in through her nose. It ... it burned ... no, yes ... it....His mouth was all over hers again and she felt limp. His strong arms held her tightly. Then she was going through the air. She actually felt she was floating. Then she realized she was. He was carrying her to the bed.
He knelt down with her in his arms and lay her on the mattress, still kissing her firmly. He was stretched out beside her and she was completely relaxed. Everywhere his big hands moved felt good. If she was drugged she could see why it caught on. It would be easy to get hooked on that. Her fear of what it might be just wasn't enough to keep her from wanting it again.
Her deep sighs and the willing angle of her body told him his timing had been perfect. He ran his tongue over her neck. He blew in her ear. He tongued her ear. He untied her halter and quite slowly peeled it off her bare breast. He wet his fingertip and touched the edge of her breast. Almost instantly her nipple hardened under his tiny massage. He planted his face between her breasts. She brought her hands into his hair and allowed his big lips to wander over her breasts and anchor themselves on her swelling nipples. Then fire burned within her as he placed a single finger against her lips. She was kissing it and trying to suck it into her mouth when he added a second finger. They both traced back and forth across her lips. Then a third. They moved on her lips as if they were playing piano keys. Delicately the long soft fingers moved across the contours of her face. His lips and tongue dragged themselves from breast to breast and then explored her neck, taking tiny nibbles and coming to rest over her jugular vein. The warmth of his mouth resting on the large vein drove heat through her.
Then he raised himself up like a cobra above her and she stared up at the long torso. He was unbuttoning the two buttons that closed his shirt at the waist and drawing the tails of it out of his trousers. He tossed it to the side without taking his eyes off her. Then he stood up. His long figure was exaggerated by the angle at which she was viewing him. The bulge in his pants was impressive. He stared at her while he unzipped the fly. The pants slid down to reveal legs as hairy as his chest. In fact he had hair all over. On his arms and on his shoulders. She assumed even his back was covered with thick black hair.
He stepped out of his pants on long lean legs and dropped them on top of the shirt. He pulled off his shorts and his hard cock bounced. For a moment she thought it was hairy, too, but then she realized it just had pronounced blue veins entwined all around its long extension.
He smiled. "I'm warm."
"I'm hot," she smiled back.
"How hot?"
"Hot enough to share everything I can with you."
"That's what I like to hear."
He smiled broadly and, Susan thought, more tenderly than before. Then he raised his underwear to her face and sniffed it.
"It's a little sweaty. My cock's been hard since we danced. But it's natural. You excite me so it's your doing that I'm all worked up like this."
He tossed the underwear onto her face. She was shocked. Before she could get it off her face, he was lying on top of her. His face was just above hers, and he was whispering very softly.
"Don't take it off. It smells like me. It's natural. My cock is going to slide into you in a minute. Get used to the pressure of my body and the smell. It'll turn you on."
Then he kissed her through the fabric, pressing it against her mouth and nose. She had to breathe and she realized it was the idea that offended her, not the reality. But if he was entering her mouth with his tongue and maybe his cock, and penetrating her cunt with his prick, why shouldn't any other natural physical phenomenon be shared? And he was right, it did excite her.
He rubbed his face all over hers through the veil of his masculine-scented skivvies.
Gradually his aroused libido caused him to crawl backwards and move his chin up and down the furry mound of her cunt. Then his tongue began to forage in the soft folds of her opening. All the while his sensitive fingers cruised back and forth across the tan line left by her bikini.
Susan let her legs part gradually.
Then she felt him putting the metal cylinder in her hand. He didn't have to ask her or tell her what to do with it. She clasped it eagerly. She pulled the sweet-smelling garment from her face and, as her legs parted, further unscrewed the metal capsule and placed it against her nostril, closing the other with her finger. She pulled in a great deal of air and the magic vapor. She took so much it was just short of making her cough. Then the dizzy spell started. He reached for the ingenious chamber and its exhilarating gas. She could feel his hands putting it to his nose and then his face resting on her swelling cunt.
His tongue enthusiastically worked its way between the folds of her vagina. He stuck his tongue way out and fished in the soft flesh, sucking with his strong mouth as he delved. Then he rode up and down inside her with his moist tongue. The secretions of her body were beginning to make the labia wet and slippery. He increased his explorations. Every twist and turn felt like a brand new thrill. His fingers were curling her hairs around themselves. Susan's hands went to her breasts and she fondled her hard nipples and pinched them slightly, causing throbs of passion to pass through her lovely young body. Her breathing was heavy now, and as his expert tongue slid from the opening deeper into her womanly folds, she let her short throat-deep sighs slide into the air.
His sucking mouth enveloped the area around her clit and then his tongue deliberately touched it. Tip to tip they rubbed. Then he made strong short sucks and pulled the knob of nerve ends toward his teeth. He worked his mouth like a rabbit's as his hands wound around her hips and slid over her stomach.
"It's so good!"
She managed to get the words out between short breaths. Her breasts were exploding with joy in her body.
He had his whole mouth at the top of her cunt, his face lost between her smooth thighs. His full lips were sucking intently and his teeth touched her titillated clitoris.
Her body began rolling from side to side and the fluid dripped out of her steaming hot cunt. He arched his back and with his strong hands drew her hips into the air without taking his mouth off her pussy. His tongue kept up a constant sandpaper action across the sensitive bud. This angle made it easier to put strong pressure on her cunt with his face, and he buried his busy mouth in the hair.
She was squeezing her own breasts now so that the finger marks showed red against the white flesh.
Abruptly he drew his reddened face away and panted for breath as he said-
"Now it's time to fuck the shit out of you!"
Instantly her back was on the ground again. She couldn't tell who put her legs in the air, him or herself. But before she could think he had grasped his arms around her knees and was sliding his stiff prick into her flesh. He slid it in deeply, as far as it would go-
She let out an exclamation of passion and shock. Then his warm body was on top of her and he was working his hips like fury. His hands went under her shoulders and he pressed her to him, his weight resting on his elbows, his hips working like a belly dancer's. Their mouths slid all over each other's as they abandoned all thought and desire except to get as much of each other's body as they could.
Susan flexed the muscles of her cunt as tightly as she could to swell the stiff cock within her. Each tightening brought a moan of passion from his throat. He'd pump forward, she'd tighten and he'd drag his cock out, then rush it back in. The friction excited Susan so she thrashed her head back and forth.
He not only slid in and out of her grasping vagina he began to jerk from side to side. His hands pressed harder into her shoulders.
"I want to get deeper into you."
He raised up and looked around like a groundhog. He saw what he wanted lying on the floor next to the mattress. It was a gaily covered pillow. He grabbed it savagely and stuffed it under her hips.
"Now spread those legs!"
She was only too willing to do so.
Passionately he thrust into her again, the sweat dripping from his brow. He jammed his cock into her dripping cunt.
"Come on, you hot bitch! Take it all!"
He was fucking furiously. He fell forward without missing a stroke and sucked hungrily on her reddened breasts. His hands found her hair and he took fists' full of the soft brown locks and squeezed them as he shot his hips forward, humping with all his might into her warm moist vagina. "Hump, bitch!"
At this red-hot pace he'd come in a moment, she knew.
"Make it last, make it last."
Like a flash he let go of her hair and flipped one of her smooth, shapely legs over his head and turned her on her side, her swollen breast sticking out between her arm as her face was pushed into the soft mattress. He brought one hairy leg toward her back so he was imbedded in her, kneeling over one of her thighs, the other hairless leg sticking to the left over his thigh. His cock went deeper this way, but it was harder for her to work her muscles to enhance the pleasure for both of them. But his passionate fury was such that he hardly noticed. He grabbed her sturdy hips and pulled her backwards to his cock as he thrust forward with his marvelously patient organ.
His thrusts were so physical that each one drove her an inch or two up the mattress. Her breast was being dragged beneath her chest as he fucked her across the mattress. Her head was off it now and she placed her palms on the floor to keep from being fucked off the mattress entirely. This brought her shoulders up and he jerked her hips up from the side-saddle position and maneuvered his legs so that his long cock, still deep within her, could rest comfortably in her cunt as he brought her to her knees and knelt behind her. He pumped her this way for a few minutes, their breathing matching in a harmony of passion.
"Now you move your pretty hips backwards. Stay on me. Stay on me. I'm going to lay down. You sit on my cock."
She thought she could do it. She relaxed her vagina and tried the tricky maneuver. He was able to lie on his back and she squatted on his cock. He pumped up and down. This position rubbed his cock dramatically against her clit and deep moans of pleasure were emitted from her throat as she arched her neck and let sheer pleasure overtake her again.
She began to rotate her full hips, circling his extended penis, trying to whittle it away with her rings of muscle. Her clit was being rubbed back and forth, back and forth. She thought she'd die, it felt so good.
"Oh, fuck me, fuck me!"
He grabbed her hair. The long silken strands were like reins in his hands and he moved them back and forth and jerked his pelvis to send his organ deeper into her moving hips.
"Now turn and face me. I want to see those big tits hanging in front of my face."
She tried to duck-walk around and swing her leg over his body.
"Don't be afraid to rest your weight on my body."
She inched her hands and feet around till she got one leg over his stomach. Her full breasts were hanging bulbously from her delicate but strong young body and his fingers itched to caress them. His eyes darted from her face to her breasts to the mingling of hair where their crotches pressed anxiously against each other.
"Look at those big red nipples."
He pinched them gently as pelvises ground against one another, sending exquisite pleasure all through her body. Her belly was winding and gyrating in full moist circles as he slid his dick into her, then out again. It was a comfortable smooth fucking, easy to relax with. Her hips seemed fuller because her legs were bent beneath her. The pink flesh, smooth and round, was like a Titian Venus beneath his dark hairy hands. The feel of his hot possessive hands on her only excited her more. She liked his gruff take-charge treatment and the moisture oozing from her hairy gash only proved it.
He almost smiled as he looked at her full body and softly said, "so much woman!"
No one had ever paid her such a compliment. It raised her temperature. She let out an uncontrolled moan of pleasure. His hands alternated from her breasts to her hips. Then he slid one finger along his cock, sending it into her warm folds of pulsating cunt. He wiggled the tip of his finger against the trigger of her clitoris.
More moans escaped her as dizzy spells swept her mind away. His free hand searched around for the inhaler. He found it with some difficulty. . "You want this?"
She opened her eyes to see his grinning passion-aroused face.
"Oh, yes, yes. I don't care what it is, I want some more."
His mouth formed a snarl-smile. "Work for it, bitch." , The insult didn't seem offensive. It aroused her passion even more.
To comply with the order, she worked her inner muscles more on his extended cock. She could clearly distinguish the bulk on the end and tried to squeeze it extra tight. He brought the aluminum vial to her nose again and she arched her neck to catch its rising vapors. Her full breasts swung as she took short deep breaths through her nostrils, allowing the exciting vapors to transport her out of reality. Susan was floating and only half heard the exclamations to increase her cooperation.
He was drawing the stuff heavily into his own nostrils when she opened her eyes to see his dark hairy body flexing as he humped his hips to bounce her excited body on his cock.
"Now fuck for all you're worth. Be a sturdy whore in an army town!"
The image drove a bolt of passionate lightening through her. One of her secret fantasies had been to pretend she was just that, a whore close to the military base near her cousin's house.
"Ride, bitch, ride!"
He was squeezing her tits.
"Ride me, whore!"
She placed her palms on his chest and felt the perspiration-dampened hair. With all her might she tightened and squeezed herself around his penetrating stick.
He'd grabbed a handful of her long hair and was dragging her head back, back so she was falling on her back. His cock pressed hard against her clit. He didn't stop his strokes and the friction was overpowering. As he continued the mean tugging at her hair, she lost more and more of her balance and her legs shot out from under her. She was flat on her back between his outstretched legs, with his hand still in her hair. Cries of passion spewed from her. She couldn't help it, the pressure against her clit felt so good. He made tiny short strokes, rubbing against her clit mercilessly. Inarticulate moans came out of her mouth.
His long body made it possible for him to have his mouth almost on her before he had to move his legs as he raised up to plant wet lips on her face and slobber all over her soft skin. He was breathing quickly now and his hot breath tingled on her skin. He was flat on top of her now and fucking furiously, the bones of his body pressing hard against her soft flesh.
"Now take it, whore, take it!"
She squeezed and rotated and humped. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms away from her body and ground his cock into her, panting and sweating and throbbing. Suddenly his cock swelled. She could feel the hot liquid gushing through the thin organ and rushing out the head into her body. Its warmth caused a shudder of pleasure to radiate all through her. He didn't have to fuck anymore, the throbbing of his penis did all that was necessary to make her feel more content than she ever had.
He didn't pull out but lay exhausted on top of her. His heartbeat kept up its furious pace for several minutes and then began to slow to a normal beat. Susan's was ebbing too.
When he raised himself off her and headed for the bathroom without looking back, Susan took a deep breath. He was a louse, but terrific at sex. She had had great pleasure in this animal of a man. It served Carlos right to have a girl he obviously liked fucked like a whore, even called a whore. A contradictory thought crossed her mind. Why couldn't that have been Carlos? Oh, how much more exciting it would be with him riding her. She'd given her all to someone she didn't even know to get even with that damn bicycle rider!
"Come on in, let's take a shower together."
"Great!"
She went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.
He guided her so she wouldn't slip.
"How's your twat?"
It was the first time she'd heard that!
"I ... I'm all right."
"You're terrific, you know that?"
"I liked it."
"What were you thinking of?"
"I was thinking of you."
"Shit. I'm good. But no girl lets herself go like that unless she has something on her mind. I guess you were getting even with someone. It's okay by me."
"Well, something like that did happen."
"It figures. But you're terrific, baby."
"Why . .-. why did you call me a whore?"
"Huh? Oh, just talk. I sponsor a couple of girls. They're good because they let it all hang out, do everything. If you ever want to turn a fast buck, let me know. I'll leave you my card. New talent's always welcome."
Susan was horrified. He could see it in the way her body stiffened under his soaping hands.
"Well don't get pissed, for christsake. You're good, and you know it. I'm just saying I'll be glad to get you in touch with big money." There was a pause.
"Well, shit, I don't do it for everyone. Just those I like."
He really didn't think it was an improper suggestion. Susan realized he was being kind. This wheeling-dealing New Yorker meant it as a compliment. She reminded herself that this wasn't North Carolina.
"Well, I'll keep the offer in mind. But I'll probably not take you up on it."
He continued soaping her legs, squatting down and being very matter-of-fact about it, like he was washing his car.
The splashing water made it hard for her to hear him. But as he continued to talk in a conversational way she got used to the combination of splashing water and his voice explaining how it would be easy to send her out to dinner with someone with money.
"He invites you up to his hotel room-even the New Yorkers take a hotel room. Most of them have their wives and girl friend-turn around-or whatever, and they prefer a hotel. Less complicated. You give 'em a good romp in the hay. They pay. That's that. I don't fuck with drugs or any of that shit, so there's never any problem. Only real danger I have is the gambling squad. Every now and then for statistical purposes the pigs round up a bunch of guys, fine 'em and then go back to the more usual practice of raiding a game, letting the guys talk them into taking a bribe and then buy the wife a new couch or something. Do my back, will you?"
Susan took the soap and started washing his back as he casually explained his life style.
"I don't traffic with pros. I leave that to the pimps. I just arrange things for people. I usually don't stay with anyone longer than a year or so. It's simpler to get new talent than to get too involved with someone who begins making demands. If you don't want that I could get you a weekend in Miami. Those are fun."
The mention of Miami gave Susan an idea.
"How about, how about a weekend in Puerto Rico?"
"Nah, I specialize. Usually the guys who want to go to Puerto Rico are looking for spic chicks. I don't deal with the island. Too many relatives. I told you, I'm mostly P.R. But I look more Italian and that's very helpful for the kind of gigs I pull off."
Pride filled his voice as he added, "I'm one of the biggest freelancers in the country. I know about almost everybody in the rackets but I stay clean. I was in jail once, for grabbin' a car when I was a kid. Place is full of fuckin' fruits. Not for me. Only thing I want up my ass is a girl's tongue. Let's fuck in the tub."
Susan was surprised to see his penis half hard.
"It's great with the water pouring down on yah. Get down on your knees, I'll fuck you dog style. You're one hot bitch, you know that?"
"Why do you call a girl a bitch?"
"Picked it up from the black cats, I guess. They use it a lot. Turns you on, huh?"
She was too embarrassed to answer. She'd have had to say "yes."
"Lot of cunts are. Those spades know how to turn a woman on. I've learned a lot from them. Being southern and all you'd probably go crazy playing whore to a black dude or two. If you want me to, sometime I'll arrange some good ones for you."
This casual conversation continued while he mounted her and slowly worked his long narrow cock into her wet body.
"Yeah, you'd work out just fine, your hair and all."
A half hour later they emerged from the tub onto the tile floor of the bathroom awash with water and suds. They dried each other and she gave him a beer from the refrigerator. He explained more about his life as he dressed. Then he placed his card by the phone.
"Here's my card. Don't lose it. You may want to use it in a pinch sometime. Be glad to oblige you. You're one hot piece of ass."
He genuinely meant it to be a compliment.
"I'd come back and sock it to you just for the fun but I mostly try out prospects. Get more than enough sex that way. I don't recommend anybody I haven't tested myself. That's why I'm so successful. Thanks, beautiful. Remember about the card. Oh, I'm listed in the book under Porterfield, R.D. It's an answering service, harder to trace. Can't be too careful. And remember what I said about the spade studs. Thanks, sweet lips. Porterfield, R.D."
He closed the door behind him. As she heard the elevator decending she wondered if she'd ever see him again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day Susan met Peggy for lunch at a bar on Eighth Avenue. It was a haunt of Garment Center sophisticates. Peggy was wearing the first bare midriff seen since Carmen Miranda's last picture.
Unspeaking eyes followed them through the restaurant. There were so many conversations going on that the silence in their wake didn't really dim the noise, but not one fashion-conscious eye failed to note their attire. Within a week, forty different versions of the midriff idea were being considered in the inner sanctums of Fashion Avenue.
Susan and Peggy were sure of themselves in their appearance and didn't give even a self-conscious glance at the customers. What was on their minds was what is in every young girl's mind the night after a heavy date.
"What happened last night?"
"He took me home."
"And-?"
Susan said nothing. "Give! What happened?"
Peggy knew from the lack of volunteering information that Susan had gotten laid. "Was he good?"
Color came to Susan's cheeks and her eyes rolled as she turned her head demurely.
"Oh, Sue, I'm so glad for you. You like that sort of thing, don't you?"
"Of course, doesn't everybody?"
"Not everybody."
Susan was dumbstruck. The expression on Peggy's face told her that Peggy was one of those who didn't like that sort of thing.
"You ... you and Philip, you don't...."
Neither of them looked at each other as they sipped their luncheon drinks.
"We ... we talked about it." Peggy said it hesitantly. Then her head jerked up and her words came with more force.
"Philip proposed last night, Sue. And I accepted him. Then we talked about it. He said he liked a well-ordered life and the creature comforts. So do I. He said he was the only man he knew who didn't want to go out and pick up girls. He'd rather stay home and do something that would advance him in his job. He just wasn't interested in sex all that much. He said he would try to be a good husband to me but if I wanted a sex enthusiast he just wasn't the one. But Sue, he's just what I want! I love him more for not wanting to hit the hay all the time. I was raped when I was 13. I've never enjoyed sex. I think we're right for each other. He said he wanted a child but one was enough. Sue, one is more than enough for me. Am I abnormal?"
Susan's head reeled. This was the closest friend she'd ever had in her life and she didn't like sex. Susan's heart was aching for Peggy. The pitiful eyes staring at her begged for understanding and reassurance. Susan didn't know what to say, but she had to say something.
Susan sipped her drink.
Her mind raced to something Grandma Penn had said. "God makes lots of creatures and he loves them all."
"Peggy, you're so lucky to love a man who feels the same way you do."
The relief that appeared on Peggy's face was total.
"Oh, Sue, thank you, thank you. I'm so relieved. I was afraid you wouldn't understand. Philip said that if you didn't it shouldn't make any difference to our relationship but I was afraid it would. I know you're like most girls and want a regular sex life, but I just don't, I just don't."
"Well that's not going to exempt you from having to listen to all my trials and tribulations."
"Oh, I adore trials and tribulations. I watch the soap operas whenever I can."
And the two friends bubbled into conversation of their prospects for conquering Seventh Avenue. Peggy was already picking up Yiddish and Susan had a contact. They were moving.
When their food came they got to the all-time champion of feminine conversation, The Approaching Wedding.
Susan had confided her intense interest in Carlos and had discreetly divulged what had happened with Frank Costa. They both agreed it was scandalous-but wasn't it delicious to know someone so wicked? As she walked down the very street on which she had been raped twice and mounted by a mounted policeman, Susan thought-"What would I give to be treated that way by Carlos?"
On Wednesday Susan went to the manufacturing office of her first employer. The out-of-town salesmen were there for a briefing. The first showing of her creations would constitute the climax of the meeting. Mr. Friedman introduced her and the room broke into applause. Her cheeks turned an unfashionable red. Then the models paraded her designs before the men who see to it that women wear what their employers have generated.
At the end of the parade of dresses, sports outfits, gowns and bathing attire the cigar-smoking, loud-talking, heavy-drinking and calculating men rose to their feet. They applauded the clothes and yelled for Susan again. The fact that they did this after every sales meeting and yelled for a reappearance of every designer, good or bad, and shouted things like "you're making my job a breeze this year!" or "off this line I can send my kid to college!" Susan didn't know. So she left the meeting to pose with the models for a fashion photographer with true elation in her heart and on her face.
Friedman, a gruff man with a stinking cigar, said he'd arranged for the fashions to be photographed in the Caribbean. It would be their trade press ad campaign.
The photographer said he'd like to take some pictures of Susan with the mannequin models. Friedman said, "Great idea!" So that's how Susan got a free trip to the Caribbean.
Susan's head was swimming. But common sense prompted her to ask where in the Caribbean were they going? She'd need a passport.
"Not in Puerto Rico."
On the plane Susan read a Newark newspaper because it was the only thing available. On a back page was an item that riveted her attention. "Dead Man Found Bound in Truck."
The police were seeking the identity of the victim discovered in a van when it arrived at a garment mill. No clues had been found.
In Puerto Rico Susan soon realized she'd been invited as a courtesy, not because she was needed. Their second night there she took a bus to Old San Juan to see what the non-tourists were like. She saw them on the bus but not in tourist-laden Old San Juan.
As she got off the bus at the Plaza de Colon she felt the eyes of the young men loitering about the square follow her as she moved along the narrow sidewalk. The comments-were in English, so she knew they were meant for her. Something was stirring in her breast.
The men were all so Spanish looking! Their dark hair and dark eyes excited her. Their trim bodies and sensuous fitting trousers made her uneasy. One brushed against her. Her heart stopped. She wished he'd do it again. Every step seemed to bring yet another Hispanic Adonis. She thought she was going crazy.
Susan saw several tourists go into a bar. She followed. It had a loud but good band. The place was crowded with a combination of locals and tourists. A passing waiter asked her what she want-ed. "Cuba Libre." She had no idea what it was but she'd heard the girl in front of her order one. She listened to the band and had just made eye contact with a muscular locai when the waiter brought her what looked like a coke. "Two dollars."
She was shocked at the price. Susan paid and put a quarter tip on the tray. He gave her a dirty look. She was so incensed she took the quarter back. The waiter let out a string of verbal firecrackers. What he was saying was too fast for her to comprehend even a little, but the meaning was clear. She felt like slapping him but was afraid to do so. Suddenly the young muscles she'd made eye contact with was at her side. He said only a few words and the waiter turned away like a whipped dog.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure, senorita. He is an animal. I told him I would have him fired if he didn't leave you alone. Would you care to dance?"
He smiled and about 500 teeth showed. Susan melted. He danced like a gentleman. Her mother would have loved to see the courtly way he danced.
"This place is noisy. May I show you another place, quieter and more refined?"
He could have been asking to show her the town dump and Susan would have gone with him. In the taxi he nudged her ever so gently. It could have been an accident. Getting out, his hand inadvertantly touched her knee. Entering the doorway it was an accident his leg pressed against her thigh.
The bistro had a combo and practically no lighting. There was hardly a buzz of conversation. What lights there were red. He held her close in a waltz.
"I won't beat around the shrub. I live here. You are a tourist. You want a good time. So do I. What do we have to lose if we make each other happy? What is so terrible if we make a memory? Come with me, conchita, I want to make love to you."
He didn't wait for an answer. He took her by the hand and led her to the door. She followed his well-formed back as he gracefully elbowed his way to the street. He had beautiful well-coiffed hair. His chest was not outstanding but very nice. His clothes were tailored to perfection, not the store-bought things Carlos wore. This handsome stranger who knew what she wanted was aware of fashion. He wasn't dressed, he was molded in his clothes. And he had such authority in his hand clasp. Susan knew she was going to "get laid" but she really wanted to be. By him.
When he told the cab driver the directions in Spanish the driver protested. Angry words were exchanged. Her escort sounded nasty. Finally after a heated exchange they got in and the cab pulled off. It stopped at the top of a steep hill in Old San Juan. Again heated words and references to the senorita and "no punta" were made. She didn't understand. He didn't have a bill small enough. It was $1.80. Susan had small bills. She gave him three. He shoved them in the driver's face, The driver's protestations ceased. Her nameless escort took her arm and they hastily moved away from the cab. The taxi took off as the driver hollered an epithet out the window.
Instead of entering one of the handsome Spanish colonial buildings on the street, he guided her down a broad pavement. Susan thought it was a walk.
Susan looked up at the tropic moon and at the picturesque Spanish buildings. He's taking me for a moonlight walk, she thought. But as they walked along the beautiful hilltop and the sea breeze undulated through her hair she realized it wasn't a walk they were on, but the top of a broad wall. She asked what it was.
"This is the top of the Spanish fort. Down here is where I live. It's called La Perla."
"La Perla is beautiful in the moon light."
She was in ecstasy walking in the moonlight on the crest of a hill above a quaint collection of stucco buildings with the Caribbean breeze fluttering through her hair and the tradewinds clearing the air so the tropic moon glistened on the water and the tile roofs. It was idyllic.
"This is a short cut."
Against the thick wall of the old fort was a ladder. He went down first. She followed. Could he see up her skirt? What an idea! He was a gentleman. A man, but a gentleman. Sure he was going to fuck her, but she'd be treated as a lady. He wouldn't look up her skirt.
But he did.
In a vacant lot several men were gathered around a bonfire. One was playing a guitar and singing. It was divine.
He led her down what was less than a street, less than an alley, it was actually a paved drain between two buildings.
Children and wives sat in the doorways or hung out the windows. There didn't seem to be any electricity in La Perla.
"It's very picturesque." He said nothing.
The building they entered was two-storied. Her friend was taking her to his home. She felt flattered and warm all over.
They entered a courtyard. It was there by accident, La Perla not being a triumph of city planning. Through the open window of the first floor Susan saw several men playing cards by candle light. The stairs were wooden and on the outside of the building. They entered the upper chamber by what must have originally been a window.
Inside, he took her face in his hands.
"I saw you in the club. Then I saw you look at me. You could not help yourself. You looked at my trousers. I knew what was going on in your mind even if you didn't. Believe me, I like you, you are a beautiful American girl. You want to have a very memorable time in Puerto Rico? I have brought you here to have that time. Kiss me."
She did. With all that was in her.
His hands weren't on her body; they were reaching for something. He found what he was looking for and then his hands went to her. They held a leather collar. With practiced skill he placed it around her neck while making her think he was fondling her shoulders. A chain noisily clanked from the back of the heavy collar as he quickly knocked her onto the bed and pulled the chain to a hook in the wall. It was quickly secured with a lock and the key disappeared into his pocket. Susan's heart was pounding through her rib cage.
"My sweet beautiful tourista. I like you. You are very attractive. You please me. I have told you, relax and you will have a happy memory. But if you make for me a trouble, well, so many American touristas come to Puerto Rico, they walk along the rocks, they are so slippery and the waves so strong, they slip and their bodies are eaten by the fishes. It is so sad. But the smart ones, they leave La Perla in the morning and go home with the happy memories. Be smart, my beautiful one, take the happy memory."
With that, he got off the bed and opened the door and yelled down the stairs.
Susan tore at the thick collar. It was securely fastened. He turned to the bed again and in the half moonlight she could see him smile as he reached for her shoulders.
"They like you nude."
With that he ripped her mini-dress from her body. One massive yank and it was torn from her. Her un-derthings did not fare better. She was stark naked in an instant.
Susan turned on her knees and pulled at the chain that fastened her to the wall. It wouldn't budge.
She heard footsteps hastening up the outside steps. Her heart doubled its beat.
A silhouette in the door told her that the man was young and short-haired.
"She is ready, yes?"
"Yes. She is fastened. We will make a good price off her pussy."
Susan was so horrified by the remarks she forgot about the position she was in and the chain and the collar and stared at the two silhouettes.
"Now my little American flower, your happiness is here. Tonight you will know the ecstasy of many passions. Go home happy."
Susan tried to scream but her voice stuck in her throat.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The light was not bright enough for her to see it but the brute who'd picked her up in the night club took a pill from his pocket and a glass of water that was ready on the shelf, put the pill in Susan's hand and and raised her head with one hand.
"Take the pill. It will be rigorous and this will help the pain go away."
A figure appeared in the doorway. Susan knew what was about to befall her. Her only hope of survival was in cooperation. She hoped the pill would knock her out. She eagerly downed the pill, not daring to look at the son of a bitch who gave it to her. Then she lay back on the firm mattress, ready to endure whatever mistreatment was in store for her. Her conscious-thought was that if it weren't for Carlos frustrating her so, she wouldn't be in this situation.
"You've got 15 minutes," he told the short-haired young man in the doorway.
The youth's clothes were in a heap on the floor in seconds. He climbed on her, hung over her on all fours, sighed deeply and smashed his mouth onto hers. He was very intent. His ardor was undiminished by her coldness. He ran his tongue over her face and chest. It felt like an icicle to her. Then he moved to her cunt. His tongue was as wiry as his body and he darted it in and out of her tightened vagina. His steel-like tongue worked like a triphammer. Back and forth it moved. Quickly. Darting, darting, darting. He was fucking her with his tongue. His fingers fondled her breasts like a dealer laying out cards in a Las Vegas casino. They moved quickly over her terrified flesh. He didn't notice the terror or the stiffness, his whole sexual life had been on top of prostitutes so he didn't know what a cold woman was. He didn't know what a hot one was either. They were just piles of flesh he loved to get lost in. The bigger the tits the more he liked it; more flesh to fondle. It was volume he was after. This was to him a puny woman. But her fleshy folds were tasty. He liked the slight acrid taste of her cunt. "You have five minutes left."
He couldn't afford the price Nicko was charging to spend another quarter hour so he reluctantly climbed over her trembling belly and stuck his puny but erect cock into her in a manner he would have used to push a revolving door. Once he'd entered her he started a pumping that was for him an anticlimax. He came quickly, breathed heavily and got off. The next man was undressing as he put his shirt on.
This one was larger in body and slower in motion. But he had a nice shadow. That was really all Susan could see. He kept his tee shirt on. But the tender way he crawled onto the bed and the delicate touch he applied to her leg gave her a comforting feeling. Besides the room was foggy. It didn't seem quite real. She felt things, but they could be sheets or cinder blocks. Her body suddenly looked gigantic to her, like she was 30 feet tall and this man who was beginning to lay his body on hers was a Lilliputian, a toy of a person. She could see him putting his hand on his cock and aiming it at her pudenda. Then her whole body shook like a machine gun firing-she felt the tip of his cock. Her eyes kept open but her vision blinked. Suddenly he was pouring liquid fire into her cunt, or so it seemed. He pushed forward with his tan cock. She sucked in her breath as the unfamiliar feeling crept over her. She knew he was fucking her but she felt like he was slicing her body in half with a terribly sharp, terribly cold knife. Then his exhaling on her face was cold. She realized he'd just put his cock in her body. It was a simple fuck, but wow! Did it feel like some kind of trip! Oh, God!
She knew then in her heart that the pill had been some kind of drug. She struggled to control herself. The man fucking her wasn't important. That would pass. But the drug was one of those LSD things; she knew it! And that did permanent damage. At least some said it did. Others said it didn't. Well,-just once, on her, it wouldn't do permanent damage. She willed it so!
But for the next hour her mind turned in a thousand directions. She felt up and down and lonely and crowded and tortured and ignored. At one point, when she was being fucked in the ass by a fat man, she thought she was picking flowers. She actually slept briefly while a particularly steady fucker rocked her body with his proper but elderly cock. Then she woke to a waterfall of fire landing all around her as an energetic young stud took out all his pent-up feelings on her pussy. He didn't fuck her, he jabbed her mercilessly. He was slim-waisted but strong. His narrow body supported a fat penis and he rammed it repeatedly in her swollen and abused lips. He didn't care about the lips, he was interested in plunging into her so far she'd feel it and moan. He liked to hear a woman groan under the advance of his enlarged cock. It excited him to know he was causing her discomfort, hurting her. It was his secret, unrealized desire to hurt every woman in the world. So he fucked! And fucked!
His semen flowed into her vulva. He'd completed himself and he slid off the bed without a word and dressed outside on the steps.
Others followed. She remembered three, but there were at least six, she knew. The hallucinogen he'd given her was a time eater. She didn't know it was daylight outside the darkened room and that the six was actually eighteen.
And yet another approached her. This one was a French seaman. He was wearing the square-necked shirt and the white hat with the red knob of his nation's navy uniform. He was short and stocky. Instantly the hat was on the chair. It was followed by the white tee shirt with the square neck. His shoes were already off and his trousers were unzipped and off his legs in a jiffy. He was standing in his sox and underwear when he could resist it no longer and sprang onto the bed. Susan was on her stomach at the time and he stretched himself over her body and began kissing her shoulder and neck and cheek. His hand fished for her tit. He grasped it and squeezed. There was pressure but not pain. He knew exactly how much tension to let out in his hand and then slowed his kissing and began to skim his lips over her neck, down her shoulder and collar bone and onto her breast. Then his nimble fingers found the underside of her breast as he gently folded her onto her back. His fingers dragged up her skin and nestled under her bruised and swollen tit. Her temperature was quite high and her body radiated heat. His fingers found this pleasant and nestled in the warmth of her flesh. But at the same time her breast was burning with fever. It wanted more sucking lips on the throbbing nipple. It wanted to be squeezed and handled. All of her body wanted to be felt. Susan was flapping her arms around his neck and back following the line of his sturdy muscles, trying to pull more of him to her.
Though his words were in French, he was consciously trying to make them sound Spanish so she'd know what he was saying. He didn't know she wasn't Puerto Rican because the room was too dark and all he saw was the form of the long-legged beauty with full breasts and the long auburn hair and the passionate mouth. Her stomach rose above her hips with a pin-up girl softness and firmness. And her pudenda stuck out invitingly. He had combed it with his fingers and it was what a cunt should be.
"Gimme, gimme. Sock it to me. Gimmee."
He knew it wasn't Spanish but her voice was so sleepy he didn't know what it was. He resorted to International Grunts. The sailor just put into his grunts the feeling of happiness he felt fucking her. She responded in another international language; she tightened her arms around him and searched for his mouth with her lips. The collar around her neck hadn't existed for her for hours and now he saw it for the first time.
He was torn between passion and outrage for the young girl's plight.
He manfully bounced off her body and yelled at the well-tailored procurer.
"What is the chain on her neck for? Is she a whore or not? Is she willing?"
"Monsieur, you were on her. Was she willing or not?"
"Answer me, bandit! Is she here by force?"
The calculating young man smiled inwardly. He knew what state Susan was in. Her body wanted sex because of the recent experience it had had and the effect of the drug. He knew he was shrewder than the good-natured French sailor, who had a strong moral streak.
"Force, monsieur. She is what you call a nymphomaniac. She loves as much of the cock as she can get. Look. I will approach her."
He turned his back on the confused seaman and approached Susan, his hands held out. Her mind was a blur of men's heads and shoulders. She saw only another handsome man coming to her. She raised her arms to receive his strong muscles and driving organ. She wanted to be filled by it. She wanted to be fucked.
"Come. Fuck me. Fuck! I'll work for you. Come."
The smirking money-maker stood over her and unbuttoned his shirt.
To himself he said, "I'll fuck you all right, but not till I've made every goddamn cent off you I can. Cunt."
He took a step forward. The sailor watched in accepting nods. Susan watched the beautiful fog-blurred form approach and moved her legs apart.
Abruptly the tall youth turned around and addressed the Frenchman.
"See, she wants cock, she doesn't care whose or when. The chain, it is how do you say, Le Turn-on? It excites some of my customers. For that it is there. Nothing more. Kinky, yes?"
The Frenchman was satisfied, especially as at that moment Susan, to still the anguish in her vagina, thrust two fingers deep within her, within the soft furry opening and ground her hips into the bedding.
The Frenchman grabbed his cock in his hands and beat it furiously as he stood at the foot of the bed and watched the long-limbed girl thrash about, excited by the artificial stimulation of her own body. Then perspiration broke out on his brow as he crawled up the bed and put his jabbing hand to her opening and shoved his cock into her. Her inner warmth enveloped the penis. Passionate strokes followed one on the other, ramming, smashing, colliding, forcing one another to stretch her flesh, push and jab her vagina. It used her most intimate parts and rubbed on her tired tissue.
She went right on humping, trying to match his every stroke, no matter how erratic it might be. He was disappointed that she didn't even notice he'd come.
He drew his spent organ off her more disappointed than he deserved to be for the amount of adoration he had given her body. A whore was a poor substitute for the real thing. But what else did a sailor in a strange port have? There must be a better way of living.
He got off the bed without looking back and dressed. He went to his ship and lay in his bunk, thinking. When his ship docked in Le Havre he resigned his position, bought a ticket for his home in Epernay and got a job in the office of a champagne merchant.
Five years later he was a sales official with an expense account. Because of his knowledge of English and Spanish he had acquired an airline credit card and gratefully came home from a trip to a true and loving wife who bothered him only with worries about their children.
But Susan only saw him leave like all the others. The drug continued its insane work. Eucalyptus leaves started falling on her so she crawled under the beach umbrella with the bananas growing from it to protect herself from the rain. The cobra in her bed licked at her cunt with his forked tongue and the symphony orchestra spun around the room, changing colors as it took on speed. Suddenly lightening struck the building she was in and she found herself on an iceberg, chilled to the bone. After the lightening finished, the northern lights went on for hours.
In reality the calculating controller of the room struck a match to see if her cunt was bleeding or anything like that. It would be bad for business. She had lasting power, he realized, and he wanted to get as much out of the prospect as he could. Her hair was perfect for the collar and chain, he thought. She sure looked good on that bed.
Giving her the LSD was smart. Tourist chicks were all out to get fucked and once their inhibitions were drawn away as they were by the LSD, they were good lays. He had made a lot of money in the past year off them. Every Saturday night he promised the scum of La Perla a young tourista to fuck. And every Saturday night he'd made more toward his goal. Soon he would grow rich. He knew English. He was smart, women liked him and he was a cool head when it came to the practical side of things. He knew exactly what he was and how he was making his nest egg. He was an ingenious pimp. But someday he would be something better! He was deliberately working his way to success in business and he knew in his soul that the rules he was learning in the whoring game were the same even if he occupied the White House. He knew it! He was going to be a success!
But in the meantime he looked at the prone girl and realized she was the best looking pussy he'd ever gotten to La Perla. She was long and lean and full. Her hair was luxurious and so were her lips. She had big tits and they were sensitive. Her cunt was healthy and anxious to please. He couldn't have done better if he'd had a computer to mold her for him. She was bringing in more business than usual because after the customers left they spread the word that a "tourista chick" available at Nikko's was exceptional. A $100 night was good and already tonight he'd taken in $160 on her. And someone else was coming!
The footsteps he heard proved to be a father and son team. The father took his thirteen-year-old into the dark room and pointed out to him the parts of her body he should play with. He was patient and thorough. He'd been there before and explained the collar and chain were gimmicks. The older man was dewy-eyed as he explained to his son how sensitive the tit was, to be gentle with it, that the vagina could take an instrument no matter how big it was. (He was a subtle and clever father, instilling confidence when in fact capacity was not going to be a problem).
The father left the room and dragged Nicko with him.
"It is his first time and I want him to relax. Success or failure depends upon his being relaxed."
The son's yell of joy only moments later told the father it had been a success and tears came to his eyes as he slipped Nicko extra bills out of sheer happiness.
His son emerged and they were friends their life long.
Nicko reentered the room. Susan's fingers were back in her cunt; she was still seeking greater satisfaction.
It was daylight fully. The chickens of La Perla and the smoke of the first fires were making their appearance. Over the ancient Spanish fort wall and down into the labyrinth of stucco buildings had come the professional thieves. A gigolo got out of a taxi at the same corner Nicko had with Susan and he counted out his $100 paid by a divorcee at the Condado Beach Hotel for the use of his cock. He was known as the Bank of La Perla because he brought in more money than anyone. And he spread it around because he was a chronic gambler and never kept his earnings more than two days. Many an airline ticket to Nueva York had been purchased from the money he lost at the card table. It was only fitting that the money Americano women paid him to satisfy their lust should find its way to bring young Puerto Rican men to the cities of the east coast where their very appearance fed the appetites of the women who could afford to fly to the source and pay for the thrill of being fucked by a Latin gigolo.
Nicko had followed that pattern, won money from the Bank of La Perla, gone to New York, worked in Tad's Steak House, then in a hotel kitchen, then its dining room and finally in the bedrooms. But he got hooked in reverse. He was hung up on beautiful tall American women. But it was a hate thing. He resented leaving their clean sheets for the squalor of El Barrio. A woman he'd exhausted himself fucking for $20 would pretend she'd never seen him when he served her in the dining room the next morning. Now when he fucked it was to get even.
And yet the sight of the beautifully built girl on his bed made him hot. His cock was growing now as he stood staring at her, the roll of money in his pocket was the only thing that stood out more than his hardened cock. She was voluptuous to him and he hated her. Her body excited him and he wanted to slash it to bits. Her breathing made her breasts rise and fall and he wanted to squeeze them out of shape. He couldn't resist any longer. Quickly he put the bar across the door and pulled his expensive shirt over his head and put it over the chair as twenty men had done earlier.
Carefully he hung up his tailored slacks. He knew clothes were one of his biggest assets in picking up wary chicks from the mainland. Any clothing that didn't show got tossed on the floor. And then he stood naked over her prone body. She was writhing. His passion was aroused by her firm flesh. He put his hand flat on her and slid it up and down her smooth skin. God she was built!
He ran his fingers between her legs. Heat was radiating from her pudenda. It was actually steaming, he thought.
"Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Fuck me."
Susan was seeing two of him. As he leaned over and rubbed her pussy he looked like an Asian statue with dozens of arms, all of them petting and stroking her. She tingled in dozens of places, as if rain drops were falling on her bare skin.
"Fuck me."
She put her knees in the air and bounced her hips up and down. He couldn't resist any longer. His cock was sticking straight out and beginning to hurt, the sensitive membranes swollen with the charge of his blood filling it to manly proportions.
"I'll fuck you, you hungry whore."
With that he slid his index finger inside her pussy.
He was astonished at how hot it was. She had been screwed for hours, but he never expected it to be this warm from all that friction. The bedding beneath her was stained and wet from all the semen that had been shot into her cunt and flowed out during the night. He'd never let her up off the bed and her body, under the influence of the drug, was incapable of holding the quarts of fluid that filled her willing vagina. He laughed to himself at the thought of trying to prove paternity if she got pregnant tonight.
"More, give me more. Fuck me. Fuck me."
She was squeezing her cunt-lips with steady rhythm around his fingers which were probing her soft and soggy cunt.
He knelt between her smooth legs. Then he extended himself over her. She was aware of his breathing hot and heavy onto her face as he swung his organ over the hair of her cunt and then expertly slid it inside. Again he was shocked at the intense heat. But as soon as it got in her she clamped tightly around his impressive tool and started tugging at it.
"Fuck me, fuck me. It's good. Here. I'll do better. See, I can do it tighter."
And Susan squeezed his cock with all her strength.
He was infuriated that she had so much strength left. He yanked his cock out of her. He would be in charge, goddamn it! He'd show this tourista bitch who was doing the fucking!
He rammed it back in, causing a deep groan to slide out of Susan'd mouth. Furiously he pulled his hard cock out of her abused cunt and smashed it back in. Again Susan groaned, then increased the groans as he pounded his swollen organ in her vagina with repeated forceful fucks. He grabbed her knees, held her dangling feet in the air and threw his cock into her. With a piston action faster than he'd ever managed before he slid his penis into her cunt and pulled it out. Her body was lubricating excessively because of all the stimulation it had received and because the drug had relaxed every tension to the point of preventing her mind from working. All she was aware of was the thrilling sensation of being fucked. He was strong and well endowed, so it felt good.
Nicko, on the other hand, hardly felt the physical sensation at all. He was tripping in his own way, for to him it was taking. He was taking her cunt the way those women in the hotel took his dignity.
And he was an angry man. Each stroke was driven by a desire to punish. His stretched cock was an instrument of justice and her cunt was getting paid back for all the rotten things that had ever happened to him.
But he didn't know that as he put his enlarged prick against the hairs of her vagina then parted them with the head of his cock and slid the length of it past the big lips and then the smaller ones. He drove its length deeper, so the rings of muscles could tighten around it and he could pull it out. She could keep up with his rhythm. He tried to go deeper. Susan kept her teeth closed and sounds of satisfaction rumbled in her throat. Nicko rammed harder. She liked it more. Her being happy with his fucking wasn't satisfying him. He took his dripping manhood out and walked on his knees to her face. Placing his hands on the wall to brace himself he dangled the long instrument over her mouth. The secretions it had picked up in her cunt were dropped on Susan's nose and cheeks.
"Suck it."
Susan thought a kitten was walking across her face and didn't pay any attention.
"I said suck my prick, stupid cow!"
He pulled her hair and when she opened her mouth he guided the moist head of his enlarged penis into it.
"Suck. Come on, suck."
Susan wasn't capable of thinking about it. All she could do was feel something in her mouth. She swallowed. It slid further into her mouth; the head was well beyond her teeth. She swallowed again. "Suck!"
Somehow the message got through and Susan began sucking. She didn't know what it was. And she didn't care. It felt nice. She sucked some more. It was really pleasant. He placed his hand back on the wall above the bed. Now he moved his hips slowly forward. Susan had been set in motion and continued the sucking as his penis slid further into her mouth. It was hitting the back of her throat when she stopped trying to get more and started wrapping her tongue around it. He began to pull it out. But she zoomed after it, not letting him take the sweet-tasting thing away from her. Her lips tightened around it. Some instinct kept her from clamping on it with her teeth. It was firm, but had a soft texture. She liked that. It was nice. Her mouth worked it back to her throat. She was pretty good, Nicko thought. A girl like that would be useful in prostitution. A good body, sexy looking, talented in bed, versatile. But the concern of the moment was to make his cock feel good. So he began sliding it back and forth over her lips. She sucked and released just the way her cunt had. And while he couldn't get it in as deeply as in her gash it was almost as good.
His balls rubbed her chin. They had scraggly hairs growing on them and these tickled her. Her hand went up to brush the irritation away. Her hand was surprised to feel the hard knots inside the very tender flesh. At first she didn't know what they were. Then she fingered them. Two. Hard. Her lower lip dropped and she tried to stuff them into her mouth along with his cock. It was something more, that was all she was aware of. But she couldn't get them into her mouth. He pulled back and let his wet cock slide out of her mouth. She resisted a bit but she pulled it out anyway. Then he held it up flat against his abdomen. This way there was nothing to prevent her from getting his nuts in her cheeks. She could see the swinging orbs in front of her and pulled forward. But the chain that secured her collar went taut and she couldn't get that far. He inched up on his knees again. Now there was nothing to prevent her from taking his balls in her mouth. She placed the baggy flesh to her lips, guiding it with one hand. The hard object within the flesh was sucked into her mouth. As if slowly pulling a ripe cherry into her mouth, she gradually surrounded it with her lips. It popped behind her teeth. Her tongue massaged it thoroughly. The other soft stone went in the same way, first against the resistance of the lips, then through the narrow channel of her puckered lips and finally free inside the harbor of her mouth. In a small way it was like giving birth to twins, in reverse. Instead of the narrow passage and then out, it was the narrow passage and then in.
His body was pressed against her face and his cock bent her nose. He put his hand behind her head and held it firmly against his stomach. She gulped and sucked on his balls, running her tongue around the sack containing the fabulous things. It fascinated her that they moved so freely within their confined bag.
"Take them out now and be careful about it." This instruction was clear to her, coming at a brief lucid period.
Nicko then aimed his penis at her and she instinctively opened her mouth. He rammed it in! She gagged. He held it in.
"Eat it!"
She tried to flex her lips and move her tongue. It didn't work too well.
He pulled it out roughly. She was aware of an unpleasant feeling by her teeth. Her hand naturally went up to pull it out. At first she didn't think anything of it. She'd gotten a hair in her mouth many times. But this was a wirey hair. And it was stuck between two teeth. She had a hard time getting hold of it. Her tongue found it easily, but grasping it with her fingers was difficult because she was stoned. Finally she pulled the sturdy nuisance free.
He saw her perform this operation and he smiled triumphantly! Ha! It serves her right for being a cunt. And he realized how much he liked to humiliate women. So an idea came to him.
He crawled off and stood next to the bed. He placed one hand under her hips, slid the other under her shoulder and began to roll her over.
"Fuck me."
"You'll get fucked, you greedy bitch. Turn over!"
Her hair got wrapped in the chain holding her neck collar. He pulled a handful of the silken threads free and she was able to cooperate in the turning over. Now her arms covered her beautiful breasts and the lovely curve of her neck was visible. His eyes feasted on her soft flesh marked with just a few scratches from his predecessors. Her ass was firm and smooth. It was a bit damp from rolling in the drainage of cum and saliva and lubricating fluid that had oozed out of her during the long night of fucking. But the texture of her skin was so fine it was visible even in the tiny bit of light that shown around the shutters as the sun became fully free of the horizon.
His hand went to her ass; he cupped his hand over one cheek and rubbed it fondly. Pretty. Soft. He couldn't resist. Dropping to one knee, he knelt on the bed, placed his face next to it and ran his face over her soft butt. He polished his cheek against it. Susan moaned with pleasure. They both liked it.
"Fuck me. Put your cock in me."
She said ir lazily, caressing the words as they came out.
He fully intended to fuck her, but he didn't think she realized how. He placed one knee on either side of her and knelt astride her beautiful young body. Her light hair was all over the bedding and her shoulders. Her thighs were warm against his legs. His cock was standing at attention over her soft full hips that looked like highly polished marble, her soft skin was so flawless. He got down on all fours and hunted around for the crack in her ass with his penis. When he found it he adjusted his position and began a slow probing for the opening he sought. She tried to arch her hips in the air so he could fuck her from behind. But he wasn't interested in that. He wanted to put his cock in her ass. He was going to humiliate her in every way he knew of.
With force he found the tight tiny hole. It was dry as a bone. That didn't bother him. He pushed the head of his prick against the sphincter. It didn't budge. He pushed harder. Still it didn't give way.
"Relax your ass."
Susan did so as soon as the message got through to her befogged brain. It didn't mean anything. She wasn't really aware of what he was doing.
The tight sphincter relaxed easily. And she lay there in her crouch calmly, her breasts holding her shoulders off the mattress like two springs. His throbbing cock slid easily into the hole. Susan drew in her breath, but the surprise didn't hurt her. It was a new sensation and now she liked new sensations. Her nerves began to tighten. But she remembered having heard the words, "relax your ass," and so she did. His cock moved easily up the channel of her ass. His body folded onto hers. He was in her ass as far as his cock would go.
"You're getting fucked in the ass, you know that?"
"Fuck me. Let's fuck."
"Do you know what I'm doing to you? Do you?"
"You fuck me. I'll fuck you back. OK?"
"Then do it!"
He thrust with his muscles and his cock jerked forward a bit, enough to irritate her abused insides. She grunted. He did it again. Then he put his hands on her wide hips and fucked hard! He let all his weight fall on her. She was bowed into the mattress, and he rode her ass with his jutting cock as hard as he could. She let out a perpetual moan as she was bounced under him. Thinking she was being fucked the regular way she worked her inner muscles and the tensing and relaxing pulled and strained the organs within her. He was getting the fuck of his life. His furious bouncing pleased them both. He could hear her trying to say "fuck me" but the sound was muffled and the movement and squeeking of the bed drowned it out. He was straining his back to get his cock out of her flesh as far as possible and in as far as possible. The thought of taking her in the ass was almost more exciting than actually doing it. But the tight hips below him, jerking to the side every now and then, not knowing which way she would go next, and the contest to keep his cock in the tight hole were stimulating, and he pounded his dick in her ass as hard as he could, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily.
He roughly put his knees between her legs and spread them apart. He worked his bent knees and then his thighs under her body. She had to raise her hips. He reached under her body and stuck his fingers in her cunt. She moaned with the double pleasure of having two orifices played with at once. Her disarrayed hair moved as she tried to get her head up on the bed and brace herself with her arms. She was on all fours now, with the tall fucker's cock deep in her ass and his two long fingers spreading her cunt which was dripping lubricant freely. He loved the way her head tossed her long hair back and forth as she twisted and gyrated in ecstasy. He knew he would reach his climax very soon and he wanted to get as much sensation out of her body as he could. That hair was driving him wild! He slid the fingers out of her hot cunt and sucked them dry in his mouth. Then he grabbed a handful of her lustrous hair and pulled her head back, straining her neck at a severe angle. The chain pulled tight as her head was pulled back. He was pumping her in the ass so hard it was driving her forward and tugging backwards on her hair so hard it was no longer comfortable to brace herself on her extended arms. She held tight to the chain for balance. Her head yanked backwards, her back bent and his cock slid faster with each stroke into her ass.
"Oh, it's good! Fuck me! Fuck me! Give me your cock!"
A roar formed in his gut and raced out of his throat as his cum burst through the opening in his cock and shot in quick spasms-into her anus. It flowed freely as it lost its thrust. She was still calling for more as he returned to calm. His passion spent, he lost all interest. She was still bellowing like an animal in heat but he ignored her.
With a deep sigh he removed his cock from her body. He stood by the side of the bed. Looking down he saw his cock was soiled. Without looking around for something to clean it with he reached for her luxuriant hair and wiped it clean in a handful of her crowning glory.
It had been a long night; he was tired now and wanted to sleep. It was Saturday and Saturday night was a big night. He'd have to be fresh. He stretched and yawned and put the money in his hiding place. He would put it in the night deposit at the bank on his way out this evening. He was the only person in La Perla with a real bank account.
He washed his mouth out with water, then held Susan's head up by the dirty hair and gave her some to sip. Her evaporated body craved the fluid and she drank the whole thing. Then he released the chain from the wall, and pulling it like a dog leash, he forced Susan to get off the bed and crawl on the floor. He secured the chain around the leg at the foot of the bed. She could spend the day on the floor. He needed his rest.
"Are you going to fuck me some more?"
"Shut up!"
He flopped on the bed and was soon asleep. When he woke the sun was setting. Susan was finally asleep. He went to the house with the shower and washed himself. Then he came back, took the collar off Susan and made some instant coffee on the hot plate. By the time it was ready he had Susan's dress pinned back together and on her and her shoes on her feet. He began pouring coffee down her. She was very groggy and had the worst headache of her life. She didn't want to move. She wondered where she was, but didn't have the strength to ask. He worked fast now. She might remember something. He walked her back the way she came. Her hair was all over her face and she could only see her feet because it was too much effort to raise her head and look around. She could tell she didn't have her underwear on, but didn't care. He didn't talk to her. When he'd gotten her to a steep set of steps leading up over the fortress wall he had several choices. Usually he flagged a taxi, got the girl in and had the driver take them to the center of town. He'd get her out and leave the girl on a bus stop bench. Once he put the girl in a parked car. The pattern was pretty much the same. She'd ask, "What happened to me?" And he'd answer, "You came home with me and we proved how much we love each other. My darling, I love you. You will send me the money to come to your home like you promised, won't you?"
The startled girl usually felt so bad she'd say "yes" just to get away from him. That way he'd be sure she'd never tell the authorities. There weren't enough people around today to leave Susan sitting on a bus stop. It was off-season.
So he walked her to a cheap movie house in Old San Juan.
"Stay here. I'll get some aspirin for your head."
"Thank you."
"Dos."
The girl in the box office was reading a comic and didn't look up, so she didn't see the exhausted girl leaning against the wall.
He took Susan inside and sat her down. "I'll get some water," he said. Then he walked out of the movie, put his money in the night depository and took the bus to the house of a gigolo friend. There he donned a magnificent tuxedo and the two of them went on their usual Saturday night round of the gambling casinos at the posh hotels. They gambled little, drank little, smiled a lot, danced a lot and took two lonely women to their expensive rooms and fucked them. One of the women had done it all before, so she had the money ready when he asked for a loan. The other one was naive, so she felt quite bad when he insisted she help him pay his hotel bill. It would look so bad if the other members of her tour group were to hear them shouting at three in the morning in her room. She paid him. He left the door open as he left. The experience ruined her vacation. And he hadn't fucked her that well, either.
CHAPTER NINE
Susan sat through "The Poseidon Adventure" three times simply because she didn't have the control to get up. The manager had to escort her to a taxi and ask her five times what hotel she was staying at. As the taxi pulled into the traffic he thought something like that had happened about a year ago. A girl had taken drugs and was wandering around the theatre looking for her boyfriend. Crazy Norte Americanos.
No one in the party had missed Susan. She asked for the house physician. He was young and recognized the symptoms of drugs. He bathed her, gave her a lot of penicillin because he could tell she'd been raped repeatedly and probably by seamen who could have any variety of VD. He gave her a sedative. The needle made her look at him and she saw his handsome young face.
"Fuck me."
He wasn't too startled; she still looked and acted drugged.
"What's my name?"
"I don't know, but fuck me."
"When you know my name and ask me, I'll be right here."
God, she was a pretty girl, except for the dramatically dark circles all around her glassy eyes. Wouldn't it be nice to sleep with her?
"I'll look in on you tomorrow."
Then he kissed her on the forehead, turned out the light and left her to sleep.
Susan had a good constitution, and the next day she felt nervous but OK. The young doctor told her what he figured had happened. Without going into details she indicated that she felt he was probably right. He gave her some pills and then left.
He had kissed her, she was aware, and she really wanted to see him again. But she was terribly afraid he'd lose his good opinion of her if she let him know she'd like to see him socially. It was a struggle within her to keep from conveying her interest to him.
Susan decided to stay around the hotel in case she felt dizzy or anything. She sat by the pool and drank lemonade for two days because she thought it better not to have alcohol.
The waiter was younger than she but he was very good-looking, even if he was short. Behind her big sunglasses she followed his trim body as he moved from lounge chair to lounge chair and back and forth to the bar. When he brought her second lemonade she said a few pleasantries. He was correct in his responses but smiled in a come-hither way. The third lemonade she was bolder. She was pretty sick of lemonade by this time, so to get him back again she spilled the full glass and had him bring a replacement. As he picked up the dangerous broken glass they talked. She laid it on the line.
"Would you like to come to my room?"
He was only 18 but had been at the hotel for a year and was almost world-weary, he was so knowledgeable.
"If I visit a guest's room I would lose my job. Besides it would cost you $10. If you are still interested I'll show you this. It's a picture of my cousin. He will come."
He got out his wallet and showed her a snap shot of another adolescent. He too was quite good-looking, with big brown eyes.
"He is very good; he taught me."
Susan was tempted. The boy in the picture was sexy. But a 20-year-old girl doesn't have to pay for it, even at a resort. Still it would be a lark. And Peggy would eat it up. Imagine; hiring a gigolo.
"When can he come?"
"Nine o'clock."
"OK. Room 803."
"Si, senorita. You will have a good time. I guarantee it."
At five minutes to nine there was a knock on her door. The boy had changed since his picture was taken. If anything, he was better looking. He'd lost some of his baby looks and now wore a moustache. His hair looked much less greasy than in the snapshot.
His eyes lit up when he saw the young girl with the long hair and the full body. But he was growing up fast and knew how to hide his excitement. He maintained a cool exterior which belied the excitement brewing within him.
Susan offered him a drink from the cart that had been delivered just a few minutes before. He drank rum. Straight.
He stared at her while he drained the shot, then put the glass on the table without taking his eyes off Susan. She began to feel uncomfortable.
He stepped toward her and slid his arm around her waist. He was just slightly taller than she was.
He moved behind her and undid the snap of her dress. He guided it off her body. It landed around her feet. He kept unpeeling her clothing till she was stark naked in her hotel room with the Caribbean breeze moving the floor-length curtains like a boat's sail.
Silently he took her hand and put her on the bed. Then he stood looking down at her and began taking off his clothing. It was neatly placed on a chair. His back was to her when he removed his modern-style underwear and she saw the very young lines of an athletic, if slender, man. He scratched his cock and balls as he turned to face her. Her eyes popped open.
His cock was hard as it could get. It was pointed and bent. It arched up like a saber; he was malformed. Magnificently malformed. It was a freak cock. But Susan couldn't help thinking it must reach parts of a woman's body that no other man's cock could. What sensations would it provide that a normal penis couldn't?
He walked to the bed and crawled between her legs. He put his hands on the mattress on either side of her and let his knees slide to bring his gourd-like penis down to the tempting flesh of her body. It bent upward so the head of it was nearly touching his abdomen. He took advantage of his natural attributes, as any successful lover must, and fucked gently with his hips, letting his half-circle cock rub the furry growth on her pudenda.
He massaged it with his cock. Back and forth he swung, buffing it gently. One hand left the mattress and closed around her tit. Talented fingers squeezed it. Then an expert head dropped down to the nipple and willing lips clasped the aureole with a gentle sucking action. The hand he wasn't using to balance himself roamed freely up and down her young body. It felt so good she wanted it to go on forever.
But as her breathing grew more passionate and his fingers found new zones to stimulate he could not resist enjoying his work. And too soon his fingers clasped around the arc of his twisted organ and he led it to the gates of her sexual region. Her legs opened further in automatic reaction. Contact was made. The head of the saber-shaped cock moved in like a ship into a harbor, the proud prow majestically sailing past the outer edges and pushing all before it as it headed for the warm inner harbor of her cunt.
Her breath caught in her throat as his rigid penis ploughed through her body. The boy in the boat about bent in half, it was so pressed by the passing penis.
Then he drew his cock out again, again raking the tiny swollen bud with his staff. Back and forth it moved, constantly rubbing the sensitive bud. Susan could only dig her fingertips into his shoulders. She was so overcome with sensations of pleasure she was afraid to move.
"Don't make marks on my shoulders, senorita."
She felt ashamed for not being more aware of what she was doing.
But still he was rhythmically ravaging her pussy. It was being entered with great force and evacuated with slow deliberate strategy as he moved the curved flesh-mover back and forth in her sweet and luscious cunt. The body secretions were heating up in the pressure of being pressed between his hard cock and her softer, malleable folds of flesh.
Susan felt his pulse hasten and his heartbeat speed up as he moved his hips back and shot them further into her voluptuous body. Again he attacked. Again he withdrew slowly and then charged into her. His muscles were tensing as he jerked quickly back and forth, his arched cock rubbing madly against her clit. Her moaning was getting louder when suddenly he crawled several inches further up on the bed and his body was suspended over her, his cock hooked into her cunt by the strange curve of its hardened shape. His fucking made him rub in smaller areas now, but faster, the head of his cock right on her excited clit. He gritted his teeth and drew out the word as it was uttered-"
"Nn nooooooow www wwwwwww!" His cock was in her at such an angle that the cum shot out of his cock right onto her passionate clit. He was showering it in his cum. It was like the force of a fire hose against her clitoris' tender nerve ends. She was ecstatic with pleasure and rising to a fever she'd never known when the hard flow ceased.
He relaxed his body and everything went limp. For Susan, who had never experienced an orgasm, it was the most frustrating moment in her life. She was getting up to another level of experience and suddenly it all stopped.
"Oh, please, please! Do it again! I'll pay you double, but do it again. Oh, please!"
"I cannot, senorita, I have another appointment. I must dry myself, take a walk for a few minutes and then go elsewhere."
"I won't beat around the bush. You excite me so I must have some more. I'm too hot to stop now. If I were to take a room in another hotel for the evening would your cousin come to me there?"
"Oh, senorita, he cannot. He is making the rounds I set up at my hotel. He will not be free till late, and then I am afraid, senorita, he will not be able to fuck you. He has three women to service tonight. You understand?"
His remarks had the effect of a cold shower on Susan. She turned on the bed and smashed her fist into the bedding.
"Shit!"
He was quickly into his clothes.
"Please, senorita. If I may have my money. I must hurry. My mother expects me home before twelve."
"It's in the envelope on the dresser."
"Thank you, thank you, senorita. I hope we will meet again. Good-bye."
He was folding the envelope and stuffing it into his pants pocket as he backed out the door.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning Susan flew back to New York.
She called Peggy, made a date for lunch and then went to Friedman's office to talk with his salesmen.
Peggy and Susan's lunch was a two-and-a-half-hour affair with little food and much talk on Susan's part. Peggy's conversation consisted of "really?"
"no!"
"oh, Sue!"
"my God!"
"how horrible!"
"what did the doctor say about that?" and similar contributions.
They were leaving the restaurant before Susan thought to ask about the wedding. Peggy asked if Sue would like to go to the shop where her dress was being made, designed by a fabulous young Puerto Rican boy who was a genius.
By this time there was no doubt in Susan's mind that she'd do anything for a Puerto Rican cock, and just the mention of the existence of one made her say "yes." She hoped he wasn't gay.
On the way Susan stopped by the post office to pick-up her mail, which she'd had held. The post card she'd mailed to herself as a test to see if the mail was getting through, and if so, how fast, was there.
There was also a letter from Grandma Penn full of concern for her safety. They'd read such horrible things in the papers and heard the most terrifying stories on the TV news. Was she all right?
The fun parts she read to Peggy as they happily walked to the shop where Peggy's gown was being made.
Inside the work rooms, cluttered and crowded, magnificent gowns were coming into existance.
A high rack of material and half-finished gowns hid the shoulders and head of some man in a velveteen suit as he told the cutters exactly what he wanted done. He spoke with authority and the highly-paid foreman was listening to his every word. His voice had a familiar ring, but Susan couldn't place it.
"That's my designer. He works under the name of Pizzaro. But his real name is Carlos Rodriguez.
Susan's mouth dropped open...." and I expect it to be ready for a fitting tomorrow afternoon. For what the young lady is paying she deserves our best efforts and I am happy we are working together. Every time I see the work you turn out here I feel proud of our industry. Oh, Miss Hamilton, Peggy! I was just checking on the progress of your gown. Who's that behind the rack? Your maid of honor? Can we fit her now? Hello, I'm...."
For some unknown reason Susan blushed. Carlos instantly turned boyish and melted. He tilted his head to the side and cast his eyes down. He looked like a tall, dark Tom Sawyer.
"Carlos, I'd like you to meet...."
"We have already met." ' Carlos' eyes met Susan's. Silence fell over the trio.
Peggy, an intuitive girl, descreetly went to the other side of the rack to look at the half-completed gown.
"I have been by your house every day. I have left notes in your mailbox."
"I've been in Puerto Rico."
His eyes shown. "Did you like it?"
"I loved it. I loved it a lot. I met a nice young man."
"Oh."
"We went to bed together."
Carlos clamped his teeth together. His face changed several colors.
"He made me feel like a woman. He noticed me as a woman, liked me as a woman and screwed me like a man."
Susan was dizzy when she was through saying it.
Carlos stepped to her, grabbed her by the arm and marched her towards the door, yelling over his shoulder in an authoritarian voice-
"Have the gown ready for a fitting by tomorrow. I'll meet any schedule Miss Hamilton wants."
Peggy came from behind the rack of clothes in time to see Carlos sternly leading Susan through the glass doors of the hall past the elevators and down the stairs. He didn't wait for the elevator.
On the street he didn't let go of her arm. He practically got them killed yanking her into the moving traffic to flag a taxi. Cars honked and drivers shouted but Carlos ignored them as he all but shoved her into a taxi.
He barked the address to the driver.
"So. you were appreciated as a woman and he screwed you like a man. Anyone who doesn't screw you like that isn't a man and doesn't appreciate you, is that it? You think I am not a man because I didn't jump on you right when I ran into you on my bicycle? You think I don't appreciate you as a woman? You think I'm a fag like Paco?"
Susan was surprised by a lot of things but hearing him say his best friend was gay stunned her.
"Yes he is. But he is my friend and a fine person. I am proud he is my friend. That doesn't mean I do not appreciate you."
They were in front of her apartment when he stuffed bills into the driver's collection drawer and pulled Susan out of the taxi by her arm.
True to form the lobby loungers were there, bundled for the North Pole. Their heads went together as they watched the tall dark Puerto Rican with the severe face lead the young pretty girl through the lobby and impatiently wait for the elevator. For a moment the excitement of her first sexual encounter with a Puerto Rican flashed to Susan's mind. It was in the very elevator he was shoving her into.
The women in the lobby couldn't wait for the doors to close and were quickly working their tongues before Carlos and Susan were out of earshot.
When the doors closed Susan backed against the wall. Carlos instantly had each hand flat on the wall on either side of her head.
"I like you. I like you mucho! Yet you insult me. And in front of the people I work with. You want an animal of a man? That is what satisfies you? Eh?"
Susan knew he was going to kiss her violently. But as his face moved closer he stopped an inch away. Carlos peered into her eyes. His face was so close Susan could only see his large black eyes. Then everything went blurry. Susan was holding her breath and getting faint.
The antique elevator bounced to a stop on the 12th floor and the moment vanished. Carlos was gender with her but still kept his hand on her arm.
Susan had trouble and fumbled for the keys. Finally he had to take them and unlock the two security locks. He immediately crossed to the windows and pulled the shades. He turned and looked at Susan who was standing with the shoulder strap of her purse in her hand, the bag itself resting on the floor.
"Come here. Drop the purse. Take off your jacket. Step out of your shoes."
She did as she was told and then stepped toward him, trembling slightly inside. She had no idea what he would do.
He took off his suit jacket. The open-necked silk shirt he wore with the collar over his coat collar was a beautiful French blue and was just the perfect compliment to his cafe ole skin.
"Unbutton my shirt."
Her fingers trembled even more as she reached up to unfasten his shirt. His broad chest was like a statue's, flawless and hard. He was slightly short-waisted and so the expanse of his shoulders and chest looked all the more outstanding. His stomach had what is called a washboard look. Susan was getting turned on.
"Don't pull it out of my pants, just unbutton them. Now step back and take your clothes off." Susan hesitated. "Take them off!"
She stepped back. Her halter untied at the waist. She released the knot and let it hang limply from her shoulders. She unzipped her hip huggers and let them slide to the floor. Under the protection of her hanging top she removed her panties. Carlos was working his teeth back and forth. Some of her luxuriant hair fell forward as she bent to pull the flimsy garment off her ankles.
"Now take my pants off me."
Susan had not been casting her eyes on him for fear she would release some of the passion the sight of him aroused in her. She didn't want him to know how wanton she felt.
But now she looked at his trousers. They were protruding in front so much she could see the outline of the coronal ridge of his cock. She thought .of the penis she'd seen hanging from the policeman's horse in the garment district. She placed her hands on his waistband to balance herself and knelt down in front of his bulge. Her fingers traced the outline as the zipper decended. She didn't want to shame herself, and yet she wanted to kiss it. She looked up to his eyes, hoping he'd take the initiative.
"Take it out so you can see what you're going to get."
Susan tried not to appear too eager as she slid her hand in the unzipped opening. His underwear was cotton, and she had to feel around to see how to get his joint out from behind its restricting material.
"Open the pants."
She did so as he looked down at the top of her head and saw the line of her hair as it curved over her shoulders and fell down her back, her smooth round hips swelling out behind and inviting his hands to caress them. When she'd undone them, his beltless pants followed her hands down his small but muscular ass. Susan continued to slide them down his sturdy legs, the hard muscles attesting to his years of bicycling. When they were around his ankles she didn't have to be told to get his shoes off. She sat on her legs like the little Mermaid and untied the two-tone brown shoes. It surprised her that his feet should be so solid; they were as hard as bones with the veins running over them, standing out like they were afterthoughts and had been added after the muscles were all in place. When she'd slipped the trousers off his legs and was trying to fold them, he kicked them out of her hands.
Carlos brought his feet to rest wide apart and stood over her like the Jolly Green Giant, but with his massive cock stretching the soft fabric of his underwear. The vision of the Puerto Rican Adonis was too much and Susan clasped her arms around one leg and squeezed him and kissed his muscles, he let one hand drift into her hair and he gently stroked her head.
She pulled back full of shame and desire. What would he think of her?
Carlos had been miserable the whole time she'd been in Puerto Rico. He had come by her house everyday. Three times, in spite of his best intentions, he had found himself jacking off, thinking of her. Once he was so hot he'd gone to Paco and asked him if he would suck him off to relieve the pressure.
They had been friends all their lives and he'd never done anything like that. Paco valued their friendship and still understood Carlos' plight. He said yes, and he did.
And now here was this beautiful girl who was constantly in his mind, passionately kissing his leg and running her hand over his ass. He was afraid of all the things that were going through his mind. But since she was so totally relaxed with him, he lost all timidity and let the craving that was hardening his cock control his whole body. He took his hands out of her hair and guided her to her feet. When she was standing up he slowly took the halter which still hung from her neck and lifted it over her head in a slow, almost ritual-like, motion. And there she stood, naked and beautiful in front of him.
Her breasts were full and succulent. The aureoles were beginning to protrude. A strand of hair hung down one breast. Her tummy was flat and soft and her hips spread out in inviting curves. The hair on her pudenda excited him. It was just a shade darker than her long silken tresses and looked just as soft. Her legs were shapely and she had dainty feet. His cock gave an involuntary jerk.
He could hold back no longer.
Susan was staring right into his face, watching his jaw grinding. His eyes were growing larger with desire. Suddenly his arms were around her and he had picked her up off her feet. He carried her in his arms across the room and lowered her to the bed. Then he stuck one hand in his briefs and had them off his hips, down his legs and off his feet in a second. Susan lay on her back on the bed watching the quick movements of his final undressing. His cock was bouncing and she couldn't see it in detail, for it was just a blur. But she knew, and her quick gasp of breath showed, that it was bigger than she had anticipated. The underwear was sailing through the air to land who-cared-where when he had one foot on the bed. Suddenly he was standing on the bed above her, looking down at her naked body.
When his organ, standing straight out, stopped swaying, she was able to realize its true proportions. It was impressively long and the whole length of it was fat. It was proportioned, but proportioned big. And the head! It was much bigger than the shaft, and it was heart-shaped. It stood out from his muscular body just like an artist would draw a phallic symbol. He was magnificent!
Carlos wiggled his feet to keep his balance on the bed. His cock was radiating heat, it was so excited. Susan was on her back, looking up at him. Now her tongue was sliding out of her lips. He understood why she had said what she did to him in the cutting room. She was a full-blooded woman and deserved to be satisfied. He had been so afraid of his own desire he had thought he was improper to think of wanting to make love to this gorgeous creature. But now she had confessed she wanted to be fucked and he had her stripped on the bed. He thought he could do a good job of fucking and he wanted to, oh, how he wanted to!
Susan tossed her head to get some hair out of her face, and that movement broke the last bit of restraint he had. He jumped onto his knees and straddled her torso, his cock resting between her breasts. He leaned down and smeared his face all over hers. The heat from their bodies led each of them from one position to another. He squeezed her lips between his. He gently slid his hands down her sides and squeezed her shoulders. He licked her cheeks and kissed her eyes. She slapped her hands on his hips and ran her tongue around in a circle on his neck. She held her mouth open until he put something, she didn't care what, into it. He put his chin in it. She sucked on his chin and then crawled with her wet lips into his mouth and counted his teeth with her tongue. He grabbed handfuls of her hair and rubbed it all over his body. This put his cock over her face and she kissed it violently. It was glistening at the tip, and whatever the liquid was, she wanted it. So she strained her neck to get out from between his thighs long enough to close her lips over the end of his cock and suck it in. She didn't want to know what the pre-semenal fluid was; it was his, that's all she cared about.
As she sipped the nectar from his cock, her fingernails skimmed over the surface of his balls. They were tight little knots in a tight shriveled pocket of skin. It felt good to run her fingertips over the furrows of the skin. She stuck her tongue out and flicked at them. Carlos let out a low moan, his hands found her shoulders and he forced her into the bed. He was very strong. Then he rode his hips back and forth, dragging his balls over her mouth. She tried to suck on them to draw them into her mouth, but Carlos made bigger movements and the orbs went up her cheek, over her eyes, across her face and back and forth, then came to rest on her mouth again.
Seconds later he stood up again and turned around. His tight ass was a rhythm of muscles on top of his long legs. He looked so tall she couldn't see above his waist. But from between his legs his long cock with the shapely head could be seen between his trim legs. She was now excited by the back view of him.
Carlos was breathless from the joy of having this beautiful girl kiss his balls. He was turning his back on her so she couldn't see how much it affected him. He was practically in tears with happiness. Now his eyes were riveted on her mound of Venus. What a heavenly shape she was. Look at her legs move; she's trying to gyrate and yet stay still.
Her hands slid down her stomach and into the hairs of her pudenda. Her fingers tried to move between the coral flanges. He could hold back no longer. Carlos dropped to his knees and buried his face in her crotch. He had never had his face in a pussy before and he wanted to learn everything about it instantly! She excited him! And he wanted to make her feel good.
His tongue worked feverishly to explore every part of her cunt. It was warm and moist. It was softer than he had expected. He turned down his intenseness because he felt if he pressed too hard it would hurt her, and he didn't want to do that. Even a little. That would get her out of the passionate mood they were both in. He wanted it to continue this way.
Then he felt a new sensation. He was kneeling over her body. They were in the classic "sixty-nine" position. His ass was being touched. She's running her fingers around my ass! But she wasn't, and suddenly he realized it. She was putting her lips on his asshole. She was kissing it. He twitched at the realization. Susan groaned with pleasure. His muscle contraction had actually caused his sphincter to flex and his ass had made the same movement her lips did. Susan was lost in the feeling and clasped her lips even harder to the tiny puckered opening. She forced her face into his ass. He was ecstatic. He lapped and ate and sucked and shoved his tongue into her cunt. He fished for her clit with all his energy. When Susan withdrew her face to breath he spun off her body, turned himself around on the bed, lay flat on top of her and smothered her face in wet kisses. He ran his tongue throughout her mouth and clasped her, his arms around her feminine body, and rolled backwards and forwards on the bed, entangling their legs in abandoned frenzy.
He knew they were going too fast, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't want to stop.
"Oh, Carlos! Oh, Carlos! Oh, Carlos!"
"I want to fuck you."
"I want you to."
"I always wanted to."
"I should never have doubted it. Do it. Forgive me."
Their kisses were a confused mass, but the tide of warmth that spilled over them sauced the whole experience, so even if the details were abrupt or curt, the flavor was just what they both wanted. Their bodies seemed to melt into one unit.
He felt the hardness of her nipples against his flesh. He slid down her body so his mouth could suck on the tempting flesh. He ran his tongue around the aureole, sucked it into his mouth and gummed it gently. Her sighs and inner moanings were a symphony of pleasure. He moved his leg back and forth to rub his cock against her leg. It felt good rolling it against her flesh. After he'd buried his face between her breasts and blown air against her chest his head walked on his tongue down to her navel and he examined it thoroughly with the tip of his tongue. Her tightening of her abdominal muscles drew him further down to her cunt and he ran through its hairs with his hungry tongue. He nipped every now and then with his lips, then he concentrated again on putting his mouth against her cunt, trying to match its shape with his lips and fucking it with them. When he had the lips as deep as they would go he stuck his tongue in further and then he hit it! There at the top of her cunt was that little hard knob. Lovingly he rubbed his upper lip against it, holding her tight to his face by placing his large strong hands on her soft hips. He forced his head into her pussy, moved in and out with his lips, and lapped on the inner surfaces with his tongue, each thrust rubbing the clit a little harder. It was sturdy enough to bend and snap abck. He got a rhythm going with this action and kept it up.
Susan's eyes had popped open when he first made contact with her boy in the boat. It was sobering to her, but only for half a second. She'd never known this feeling. It was something new. What was he doing?
But by the time she'd asked herself this question she didn't care what the answer was; all she wanted was for it to continue. She inadvertantly started gyrating her hips and opening her legs further to accommodate the strong jaw and forceful lips. What he was rubbing against her was beyond her imagination to figure out. But it was so good! Frank Costa had done something like it, but not like this. Oh, he was pulling at it now, stretching it. Oh, God! God! Oh, it-it's, oh, oh, oh!
Carlos was suffocating with the suction. His nose was holding her lips apart so he could get even more of his mouth into the cunt and work the clit more aggressively. His face was awash with the secretions of her inner flanges. It was exciting him to have them flow over his lips and right into his mouth. He sucked more. He pushed more. Susan was moaning uncontrollably. He was making red marks with his fingers on her ass, and yet he wouldn't bring his face out. He wanted to suffocate in there.
Susan was squeezing one breast and rubbing his head with the other hand. Her head tossed back and forth. She had no sensations but the one he was producing by eating her cunt.
Carlos started hugging her leg and was so excited by her thigh he drew his face out of the dripping cunt. He planted slobbery kisses all over the sensitive inner thigh, sticking his hair up to her cunt and hoping the strange texture of a man's hair rubbing against it in its excited condition would feel good to her.
Susan was hurting from the tension, and when his hair began to rub her crotch she couldn't stand it any longer. She pulled her leg up and he released the bear hug he had on it. Then she crawled through her long hair and thrust her face down on his crotch, searching with her eyes closed for the end of his long cock so she could wash it in her mouth. It was seeping again.
Susan let her mouth slide over the end of it and moved slowly till she had the swollen head securely in her mouth. She breathed through her nose till she felt confident enough to let more of his cock slip into her warm mouth. Her lips slid slowly on the shaft as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch the fair girl suck his dark cock. She was lying on her stomach and her trim hips stuck up and out below her long hair and narrow waist. Damn, she looked good! And felt even better!
She had managed to slide down half the length of the straight organ. The head filled the back of her throat and she thought she'd gone as far as she physically could. But she wanted to do more for him because he was so special to her. She'd take more of it. She exhaled through her nostrils. Take your time, there's no rush, she thought. I can do it. Don't think about it.
She thought how it would feel when he finally put this fat cock with the almost bulbous head into her cunt. He'd fuck and rotate and jab and slide and circle. He'd be the best thing she'd ever had.
A sudden loud groan from Carlos brought her to her senses and she realized her mouth had slid down the full length of his powerful cock. He was curling in ecstasy. Both his hands were on her arms, holding her head in his crotch, and his body and legs were enfolding her as he curled around her. Deep soft long groans were emanating from him. His cock was so long and so fat that she was unable to breath through her mouth, and now he was cutting off her breath through her nostrils. Her throat automatically flexed and this squeezed it around his deep-thrust cock.
"Oh!"
He'd never felt such a thing before. Neither had Susan. She did it again. It rubbed the hard penis against her throat and it hurt a bit. But she didn't care; she deliberately gagged this time.
He jerked his hips in a fucking motion and shoved the oversized cock even deeper into her throat. She forced her mouth not to yield and she held the fat cock prisoner in her throat. He shifted his weight so she was on her back and he was lying on his face, his hips arched above her stuffed mouth. And then he fucked! He jammed and jammed his big Puerto Rican cock into her throat. She couldn't make a sound. All she could do was let her body receive his fat organ.
Carlos lost control and fucked hard. He kept trying to push even further into her throat. He knew he couldn't withdraw and get back in that far, so he kept it in as far as he had it and only tried to gain more circular territory inside her.
But Susan was running out of air and had to withdraw. She forcefully drew her head down and slid off the bottom of the bed. She breathed dramatically and noisely.
Susan was sitting on the floor with her back against the side of the bed, her head resting on top of the mattress. Carlos turned around on the bed quickly and had his face hanging over the edge, planting kisses on her abused throat, soothing it and making her know that they'd do that again. Susan wanted to do it again.
They lay breathing heavily for a few moments when his hand slid down and encircled her tit. It was still hard from the excitement he'd generated in her glands. He toyed with the nipples. She sighed. Carlos brought his other brown hand down and ran the fingers over her creamy white breast. He cupped them both in his strong hands. He bounced them a little, playfully. Then his thumbs and index fingers rolled the swollen nipples between them. His mouth began to search for hers in a languid slow exploration. Susan's temperature was beginning to go up again.
Carlos ran his tongue between her lips and gums, slowly moving to a new territory. She was starting to turn to face him when he got off the bed and stood in front of her. His cock had softened a little and hung from his torso. It looked even longer soft because it didn't stand straight out but hung down. It also looked wider at the head than she expected.
"Get up on the bed."
Susan obeyed in total trust. She slid her hips up and onto the bed, sitting on the edge. Before she could move any further Carlos dropped to his knees and pushed her legs up and apart. His tongue was out and he was licking away at her cunt in a slow, no-rush manner. His tongue ran little circles around through the hairs. It traced the lines of her lips and went into them a little. Then he crawled closer. Her body went flat on her back and her legs arched higher. Carlos sat staring at her pink cunt with the dark hair and ran his tongue around his lips before he planted them on her warm cunt.
Again, driven by passion, he did all the right things that excited Susan. He maneuvered his lips into her cunt and then added his tongue. He stretched his tongue upwards so he was soundly massaging her clit. This brought Susan's breath from her in a noise that invited more sucking and licking. Her fingers were touching his shoulders tenderly. Carlos could feel his hot cock stiffening. It seemed to him it was more extended than it had ever been.
His mouth wound around the warm folds and he sucked bits of them into his mouth a little. His tongue and his teeth now were on her clit and he nibbled ever-so-gently at it. His hands were on her nipples and he played with them, firm and soft. They were the right thing to feel. He worked his lower jaw in a circle, going faster with each revolution. He felt a drop of fluid drop off his throbbing cock and land on his leg. He started to say it was time to fuck when Susan almost cried with anguish-
"Oh, fuck me, Carlos, fuck me now! I can't stand it!"
Instantly he was on top of her and moving her up the bed. Her legs were wide apart and quivering when he brought his ramrod-hard cock to the opening of her cunt. He slid the fat head in slowly. Then inched it further. She sighed and held her breath. He pulled back; she exhaled. He drove further and she caught her breath. Then he started sliding still further. Its extra wide girth rubbed every surface. She breathed in fast short gasps-he let it slide to the hilt-and her whole cunt was filled with his massive cock. Her cunt was burning on every side, the clit mashed against his cock's hard surface. He poked a little. He slid back a long way and then slid forward a long, even stroke. The clit felt the long drawn out surface pass over it, and Susan shuddered with excitement. Back and forth his long cock rubbed, picking up speed like a locomotive. Her hips rose and fell to meet his strokes. Their lips were sealed on each other's. Their hands were everywhere they could reach and still they keep their hips rocking in unison. Susan started to get dizzy. He was fucking faster and all his muscles seemed tight. Every now and then he'd run his cock around in a circle and Susan would thrash in a delirum of passion.
Then Carlos continued the long straight strokes and her clit would send out throbs of ecstasy. But the throbs were getting closer together and more intense. They were closer, much closer and, and ... OH!
Susan screamed and flopped helplessly under the Puerto Rican. Carlos knew she had reached a climax and he continued his forceful fucking with the inspiration to make her feel as good as he could.
Susan had barely recovered from the experience when she felt it starting again. She realized then what it was. All the things she'd heard other girls say in sex education classes, this was it. Susan had reached her climax.
Oh, thank god it was Carlos!, her voice silently screamed.
Carlos drove his massive cock, swollen now with excitement, hard into her pink flesh. Its dark tone contrasted with the paleness of the girl under it. He threw it into her as hard and then as gently as he could, alternating and varying his strokes by instinct alone. She was building up to another climax and he dropped his lips onto her breast. Then the climax washed over her and she was uncontrolled in her sighs and moans. His firm young body kept going, and again she was overcome with the ecstasy of passion as her climax repeated and repeated.
The heat in her cunt was getting too much for Carlos to resist. His organ was aflame with the cum generating in his balls. He felt her heat, heard the sighs his fucking was making her utter, felt the tender touch of her young beautiful hands on his flesh, and he looked down at the willing girl so trustingly letting her whole self be dominated by his prick. He gave in to the passion and without warning his cum swam through his cock, gushed out the head and launched itself deep inside her cunt.
It took him by surprise and he fucked as the copious quantities flowed unchecked out of his body into hers. He fucked triple-time so as to give as much pleasure as he was getting.
Their torsos lay still and their lips locked together. They were in love.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The quietness that existed between them spread into the city. The distant murmur of traffic merged to a quietness that is rare in Manhattan. The island was calm and subdued. Manhattan was at peace.
They didn't fall asleep right away. They were too excited for that. Both of them knew that something terribly special had happened to them and they wanted to keep the moment going. Then the total relaxation they had given each other took over their consciousness and they succumbed to sleep. Twilight overcame the city.
A traffic jam raised its voice and its cry rising over the tops of buildings buzzed Carlos to consciousness. He had never felt better in his life. He knew Susan was there; the first thing he was aware of was her long hair.
It was shiny and rich and soft. He combed it with his fingers. Then she awakened and turned to him, stretched for his face with her soft hand, and his cock started getting hard. He was proud of the fact that his cock was hard again, excited by her beauty. He deliberately reached over and clasped his hand around her pink tit.
It was so round and soft and the nipple was puckered just enough to be hard. He sprang on her body and was sucking away at her hardened nipple when her hands went into his hair and she clawed his scalp! She pulled his mouth onto her breasts. They were swelling with desire. He wanted to drink in her tit and her body, incorporate her into himself. He wanted to take the essence of her into his mouth. A thought flashed into his mind!
"Where's your phone book?"
Susan was thrown out of orbit by his sudden bounding onto the floor and starting a mundane conversation.
When she turned and looked at his eyes she saw glimmering pools of mischief. He was terribly excited by what was going on in his head. It showed in his coloring.
"Where is it? Where is it?"
"Over there."
Susan pointed to the plank-and-brick bookcase. Carlos' eyes followed her finger. Then he jumped across to the makeshift bookcase and quickly he was sitting in a yoga position, walking through the yellow pages at an excessive speed.
Carlos found the catagory he wanted and remembered the name of the store in that category around the corner from Susan's apartment.
Susan went to the John while Carlos was on the phone and she delighted in the mystery of not knowing who he was calling or why. She was young enough to love surprises. She wasn't the least bit apprehensive that it was some other man and that he and Carlos could laugh at the anxious girl they would both fuck. She knew that Carlos felt something too important about her to do that. Whatever it was, it would be heavenly.
When she emerged, Carlos had straightened the bedding and lay on his back inviting her with outstretched arms.
Susan laughed her way into his arms and he folded them around her.
Carlos pretended he was going to bite her. She pretended she was afraid. She giggled. So did he. Then he wrapped her in a bear hug and made a mock growl. She half feigned fear and half-felt it. Then he relaxed his growl and turned his fierce hug into a warm supporting rest for her to lean her body upon. Their laughter slowed and died and they silently stared into each other's eyes. Carlos drew her nearer to his warm body. Susan pulled herself on to him. She liked the feel of him. His head rolled on top of hers and he pressed his lips onto her sensuous mouth. They each took charge of the other's body. As their lungs hinted it was time to break the kiss small grunts came out of each of them. Then a sharp sensation would drive one of the pair to exclaim in guttural sounds and gasp. The other answered in kind, prompted by the expressions. Fingers held tighter. Acts of will took over. They wanted more and took more.
Carlos pulled his arms off Susan, raised his torso and crawled up her body. He thought he wanted to put his again-swollen cock in her face, but looking down at her now he wasn't so sure. His eyes were fixed on the round smooth line of her breasts. They looked heavy and he wanted to feel the weight of them in his hands. Then his eyes wandered up the curve of her shoulder and her delicate arm. He slid backwards and brought his fat cock level with her shoulder. It hung down in the space between her arm and her side, her swollen breast touching it slightly. He let his cock drop into the space.
"Hold your arm tight against it." Susan did so. "Not that tight!" She relaxed her arm. Then he gave a small movement forward, sliding his cock into her armpit. It tickled her side. He drew back and slid further. It was burning her side, her whole armpit was burning. He did it again.
"Oh, Carlos, don't. Oh, Carlos!"
He stroked again. And again and again and again. Susan yelled! The fat cock was driving her ribs crazy. She couldn't breathe.
Carlos was breathing heavily when he pulled his massive prick from the crevice. He was kneeling over her and his cock was right in front of her face. She was carried away by the fact that it was right there for her to look at, right next to her cheek. This forbidden part of a man's body was right there! She could stare at it, touch it, taste it, do anything she wanted with it. The idea made her pant and she tossed her head back and forth. Carlos grew excited by her neck as she turned her head so he moved his knees a bit and brought the swollen cock into place to rub against it. He let his weight fall on the bed beside her head and with his hand pushed his cock under her chin. She held her breath as he tried to slid it back and forth, like a bow playing a violin. Susan tucked her chin in to make the feeling better for him as he pulled and pushed the soft but hard flesh against the underside of her jaw. The weight of it against her neck was a turn-on. The incredible size of it stunned her; it was like a turkey leg. It pressed against the jugular vein and Susan's head was getting dizzy. She thought she was half-conscious. Carlos felt the various parts of her throat making different feelings on his cock as he passed it back and forth in the area under her chin. Each muscle brought a different sensation. He knew he could come this way if he didn't want to feel even more virgin parts of her body. So he pulled his fattened organ away from her neck and lay on top of her with it anchored between her round breasts. This made Susan give out a big sigh of pleasure, so he pushed his weight against her. The cock slid forward, the enlarging opening in its head going for her face. She stared down at it advancing toward her, the head coming out of its foreskin. It looked like a cannon coming at her. Carlos pulled it back and fucked her chest by rubbing his large cock up and down between her breasts. Then he slid further and further down on the bed and let the head of his cock finds its way in the hairs of her pudenda.
He was on his knees over her and his cock was finding the opening of her cunt, which was straining itself to get him inside, when he stopped moving. Susan looked at his eyes and saw him staring at her face.
"I love you, Susan." She knew it already. "And I love you, Carlos."
He didn't move. He continued to stare down at her with the heat evaporating from his solid cock lying on top of her belly.
"I hope I will always make you feel as good as I am now."
"Oh, Carlos, I'll do anything I can to make you feel as good."
Their mouths found each other and they kissed each other's lips.
The doorbell rang.
Susan didn't care if it was her mother and father. They'd have to wait in the hall for a long time, till she'd kept her promise to make Carlos feel as good as she could. But Carlos pulled away from her and was fishing in his pants for his wallet while her primed lips were still puckered. He was at the door in a jiffy. She couldn't see who was there and she was puzzled that he got out of bed in what had to be the most tender moment in her life. Why? Then she thought of the phone call he'd made while she was in the John.
"Is it cold?" she heard him say through the slightly opened door he was peeping around. Susan couldn't hear the response.
Carlos closed the door abruptly and went into the kitchen. What was going on?
He was back in an instant with something in a paper bag and two of the plastic glasses she'd bought. The glasses were on the bed and he was ripping the paper bag off its contents-a bottle of champagne.
That was why he had rushed from her bed. He was surprising her. She loved him even more.
He poured a plastic glass of champagne and passed it to her. Then he poured one for himself and carefully leaned backwards and placed the bottle on the floor, well away from the bed.
"To our future."
The plastic didn't clink and there seemed to be an incompleteness in the ritual started by the popping of the cork. As Susan brought the glass to her lips he did the same and they took their first sip together. Then he locked his arm around hers and they drank it that way.
Carlos' lips were sticky from the delicious wine. He planted them on Susan's mouth. She licked them clean with her tongue. Then he French-kissed her and pulled his tongue out of her mouth and dragged it all over her face and neck. It made large circles around her breasts and moved down her stomach to her navel. Carlos was inhaling deeply as his tongue played in her pubic hairs. Then he slid off the bed and knelt on the floor. His strong hands placed themselves on her hips and he dragged her to the edge of the bed with her legs hanging down. Then he knelt between them and licked at her pussy like a kitten cleaning it. Susan was enjoying it so she could barely keep her champagne from spilling. Then she felt a cold sensation on her pussy. She raised her head to see Carlos lovingly pouring champagne on her cunt. His face was on it and he was sucking in the champagne from her cunt. He licked it quickly and tried to absorb all of it. The two sensations were driving Susan wild.
When he'd gotten everything he could, he crawled up on the bed and dipped his hard cock in her glass. When he pulled it out dripping with champagne Susan leaned over and took the whole head of it in her mouth and sucked the champagne off it. Then she licked it on the underside, fingering his balls with her free hand. It was a good feeling to run her tongue and lips up and down the erect organ. There was a large vein on the bottom side. It led to the mushroom-shaped head and disappeared. She gummed big bites of it like she was taking a bite out of the middle of a hot dog. And his balls felt good, too. She ran her hand from his scrotum to his ass and felt the hairs growing there. His ass muscles were firm from all the bike riding and Susan was glad he was athletic. It was useful in bed.
Carlos felt her hand exploring him. He hoped she'd never done it like this with anyone else. He wanted to be special to her.
Susan handed him her champagne, and as he leaned over to place both glasses on the floor, she drew her head between his legs and lay on her back, looking up at his asshole. She kissed his legs and his buttocks. She ran her tongue up and down whatever she could reach. In the depth between his buns she knew she would find another source of sensations, so she searched for it with her tongue. And she found it. She pressed her tongue against it. Carlos was breathless. Susan was thrilling him!
He bent over and mouthed her cunt, fucking it with his tongue as deep as he could. He bent her knees, pulled her ass up toward his face and -rimmed her ass with his strong tongue. Then he rolled over on his back and forced Susan to get on top, putting a hand over his genitals and causing her to sit up straight, on his face. He licked at her pussy with a stretched tongue, trying to get further into her body. At this angle he was able to touch her clitoris with his tongue. He massaged it softly and then with more force. He tried to get up far enough to bite it gently with his teeth. Susan was writhing above him, her hands rubbing her groaning breasts. She found her body pushing down on his face in a rhythm that caused him to pull his face free and turn on his knees and face her, kneeling on the bed. He took her head in his hands and kissed her determinedly. Her breath was coming in short pants, and she let go of her own breasts and put her hands around his torso.
Susan straightened out her legs without taking her mouth off him and then he lowered her body on her back on the bed. His cock glistened on the end with the fluid that found its way to the tip of it from deep in his strong body. It slid into her warm cunt and almost like radar found the clit at once. Susan gasped in ecstasy. He moved the fat cock back and forth in her gently as he could without taking it off the clit. Then he increased his speed. Susan was so in tune with his movements that it was only a few minutes before she was coming. He increased his devotion with his cock. The spasms of orgam were following one another in her as he fucked and fucked. Her legs wrapped around themselves behind his back. By moving forward he pulled her eager hips in the air and shoved a pillow under her ass. Then he fucked at the new angle and let more of his weight fall on her. The heat of his body heated her up even more and she tried to grind her body to make his feelings more sensational, at the same time increasing the pleasure she was feeling surge through her body. She tightened her cunt as much as she could. He only fucked harder. She threw her pudenda at him like she'd seen strippers do in movies. He fucked faster. His cock rubbed her sensation bud so hard she fell back into the orgasms and just held him gently around the neck as his body worked its will on her. They slipped off the pillow and fucked and rolled and fucked. Carlos pulled her hair. She scratched his back. He bit her ear. She put her hand firmly on his hips and let them order him to fuck harder. He attacked her cunt with all the force he could. He put his hand over her mouth and threw the hardest thrust he could into her. Then he kissed her all over her face.
She could tell he was building up to his climax and so she increased the roll of her hips, the outer and inner muscles clenching and relaxing. His breathing became more pronounced and he doubled his speed. So did she. They were taking deep breaths and noise was coming from them. Then orgasm swelled in his balls, he put his cock to her and semen raced out of his long cock into her hungry body.
Susan and Carlos were clasped in each other's arms when they woke up. His cock was still in her.
Carlos eased his cock out of her and was not really surprised that it was still pretty much hard. Susan looked at him. He was smiling at her. A piece of lint had attached itself to his cheek. She reached up and took it off. He kissed her fingers. Then he reached for their glasses of slightly warm champagne. But it was still bubbling, and it tasted just as good as before.
"My cock is still hard."
"I noticed."
"That means you're going to get fucked again, gringo girl." He twinkled as he said it.
"Oh, you spies are all alike. All you want to do is fuck."
She sneered and lifted her shoulder in an enticing way.
"Mira, blond bitch. Fuck or I kill you."
"Well, since I have a choice-" She kissed his chest. He kissed the top of her head. Carlos sat on the edge of the bed. "Come here."
Susan got off the bed and stood in front of him. He scooted back and supported his body on his elbows.
"Stand above me on the bed."
Susan stood uneasily on the mattress straddling his legs. His cock was hardening to its full length again. She loved to look at it; it was so long and so fat. And she knew how good it felt.
"Now sit on my cock."
With Carlos helping her Susan was able to maneuver the docking with no problem. She sat on his cock and, with her arms around his neck, kissed him as he reached for her face with his. Their lips played with each other's. Her full breasts rested on his shoulders at times. When his mouth started going down her neck and covering her breasts, she tossed her head back and forth and let all her hair hang down her back. All the while she worked her hips in a rotary motion as she closed and opened on his sturdy cock.
They sipped champagne with out missing a stroke.
Susan had finished hers. Carlos poured the last of his glass over her breast and was licking it off. Susan moaned with the pleasure and worked her hips harder while he went over her tit with his tongue. He painted it with his saliva, rubbed the firm nipple with the tip of his tongue and sucked little mouth-fuls into his lips.
"I see you took my advice."
They were both so into each other that the voice didn't register right away. Carlos was the first to realize somebody other than Susan had said something. He pulled his mouth off the swollen breast and glanced toward the hall. His body went rigid as he saw an expensively dressed older woman standing in the hallway.
Carlos' tensing brought Susan out of the ecstasy of their lovemaking. She followed his stare to the hallway, still sitting on his cock. She gasped. "Grandma Penn!"
"I've broken the spell now, you might as well get dressed. The door wasn't even closed-I was suspicious and came in."
Grandma Penn turned her back and went into the kitchen.
Carlos' eyes questioned Susan. Neither of them was embarrassed; they were both still too shocked.
"I must not have closed the door after the delivery boy."
"Is she angry?"
"I ... I don't know."
They got off the bed perplexed and Susan grabbed a caftan. Carlos was in his trousers, forgetting to put on his underwear.
The dignified older woman came out of the kitchen with one of the plastic glasses.
"May an old lady share at least part of the recreation? Oh, don't put your shirt on, young man. I don't see a handsome torso up close anymore. It's such a treat."
Her eyes focused on the still somewhat hard bulge of his cock, unrestricted by underwear, that strained at the material of his pants.
"Susan, you have extremely good taste. Yes, memories do come back."
Her eyes twinkled.
"You certainly have followed my advice." Carlos grew defensive and put his arm around Susan's frightened shoulder. "What advice, senora?"
"Susan, I always told you a woman should be a perfect lady in the parlor and a perfect hussy in the bedroom. I'm glad to see you're a healthy girl. May I have that champagne now, young man?"
"Senora. Susan is no hussy!"
"If she isn't and you don't want her to be and can't make her be, then you are not the man for my granddaughter."
The old lady stepped to her granddaughter and lifted Susan's chin with her hand. Then she kissed her with a great deal of feeling and almost with tears in her eyes.
Susan introduced Carlos. Grandma Penn looked only at his eyes. He stared back.
"What are you doing here, Grandma?"
"Well, dear, we haven't heard from you in weeks. And it gave me an excuse to get up here. I haven't traveled much since I stopped going to Cuba."
"Grandma, you never went to Cuba. After Grandpa died you went to visit friends in Miami a lot, but never to Cuba."
Grandma Penn laughed.
"Your father is a little stuffy, so I let him think what he wanted to think."
Then in perfect Spanish she told Carlos that a respectable widow with a taste for enjoying life found Havana, before Castro, was a wonderful place. The men were so appreciative of her experience. "I danced on the stage, you know. Havana, Carlos; I went as often as I could. That wretched revolutionary Castro has ruined my sex life."
Susan stood with open mouth. She never knew her grandmother could speak Spanish.
The old lady continued in Spanish to Carlos.
"I can see by Susan's eyes that I walked in on more than a romp in the hay. The way you defended her shows me she has placed her trust well. I hope I see more of you."
Then she switched to English.
"Susan, can you both have dinner as my guests tomorrow night?"
They could.
"Good. Now I must get to my hotel and freshen up. New York is agreeing with you, Susan."
"Grandma, won't you stay here with me?"
"Don't be demented. If I were you I would hardly want a relative or anyone else here. Besides, I need my own place. I want to arrange my own entertainment. I'm at the Sherry Netherland, dears. Meet me tomorrow at eight-ish."
She kissed Carlos on the cheek, then Susan.
Then she went to the door. But just before she left, the grand dame leaned back in, smiled and said-
"And tomorrow both of you dress to kill! I love to see good-looking young people."
And she was gone.
Susan looked at Carlos. He held his hand up as a signal for her not to say anything. He was listening for the elevator door to sound. When he heard it open and then close he rushed to the door and firmly fastened both locks.
"Well, you've met the best of the family."
He had his pants off and flung them across the room.
"I hope you grow to be like her. Come here, hussy!"
