I woke up that morning with a hard-on that wouldn't take no for an answer, and I cursed under my breath because there happened to be nobody in my bed to take care of it but me. Ordinarily, I'd have had half a dozen hot, humpy, hung, and more than willing young studs to choose from-and that's not boasting; it's a simple statement of fact. But the night before, Paul, my special asshole buddy, had planned to stay up late studying for a big exam (or so he claimed), and I'd had an unexpectedly busy day at work ... by the time I'd gotten done servicing my customers I was too bushed to call up any of the guys I usually made it with for free to see if they'd be available for a little after-business-hours work-out. No, all I wanted was to get home and go to bed-alone. That was a switch!
I hadn't even bothered to clean up any before I hit the sack-just stripped off my call-boy's uniform of extra-tight jeans, black leather motorcycle jacket, and boots, and threw everything in a heap on the floor before climbing in between the sheets. They were already soiled with patches of dried come and KY lubricant from a prolonged fucking and sucking session with Paul the night before, so I figured a little more sweat and grime couldn't hurt them. As you may have gathered, I'm not a terribly fastidious housekeeper-what guy my age is? I've generally got more urgent things on my mind....
Like jacking off, for example. That began to look like a pretty good solution to the problem as I lay there that morning, still half-asleep but already feeling as horny as hell. I began to look at the bright side of the situation: after all, I could take the day off-no classes or appointments with Johns-so I could stay in bed all fucking day if I wanted to. And I was beginning to want to. Paul was probably busy sweating through that exam (Oh, I trusted the big stud, all right-about half as far as I could throw him)-and it was about time I stopped kidding myself and admitted that none of my regular playmates turned me on quite the way Paul could.
Plus-I blush to confess-I'd been such a promiscuous whore lately that I hadn't had to masturbate since God-knows-when. I'd all but forgotten what it felt like, and though I doubt that a hand job could ever replace fucking, sucking, rimming, S and M, water sports, and all the other fun pastimes I'd been exploring on and off the job, I just couldn't resist the sudden temptation to take down some notes-some detailed notes-on the fine art of masturbation for a little sex survey of my own.
It had gotten much warmer during the night, and I'd kicked off the sheets while I was asleep. I'm not one of those stuck-up studs who're in love with themselves, but in all modesty I think that what was lying naked on that bed must've looked pretty inviting. It was worth fifty dollars an hour, minimum, after all-even on the sex-saturated San Francisco market.
I've always been tall-about six foot two-and working out with Paul on a steady basis had packed a lot of hard muscle on that big frame of mine. At the moment, my hairy belly and chest and thighs were damp with sweat; I was lying spread-out, flat on my back, with my hair-dark blond, worn long and shaggy-falling all over the pillow and getting into my eyes. I'd tucked my chin into the hollow space between my shoulder and my neck, a habitual gesture because I liked the scratchy feeling my mustache made against my skin-the rest of my face needed a shave, so it scratched, too. I had one hand lying on my firm left pec, playing with the big brown nipple, and the other wrapped around my stiffening, wide-awake prick.
My cock ... it's quite a fistful, I guess-over eight inches, hard (that morning it felt more like nine or ten!); Paul's is bigger, perhaps, but then that humpy jock is hung like a human horse. Neither of us is cut, so I began my rediscovery of the delights of the common hand job by letting go of my dick long enough to spit into my palm. Then I wrapped my saliva-lubricated hand around my cockhead, peeled back the sensitive foreskin, and began a slow, steady up-and-down massage on the dark pink, blue-veined shaft this procedure exposed. I tightened my grip each time I reached the base of my prick, releasing the pressure slightly on the way back up toward the head, and squeezing again-just hard enough to hurt a little-every time I returned to the tender, highly responsive skin just below the swollen bulb.
"Oh Christ," I panted out loud as my breathing started to accelerate and I automatically sped up the motions of my fist to match, "this isn't so fucking bad after all!" And that had to be the understatement of the year ... with a little imagination, I could close my eyes and persuade myself that the furious piston action at work on my throbbing tool was some stud's hot, moist, greedily sucking mouth and throat, or a tight but yielding asshole that I was buried in and fucking the shit out of, stroke after stroke. Some fluid was already seeping out of the inflamed tip of my joint, leaking from between the parted lips of my pisshole; my palm was sweating, which helped to moisten my foreskin and reduce the friction, making it easier to pump my prick with my fist.
If it hadn't have been for all that natural lubrication my body was supplying, my cock would've been scraped sore from the fierce friction I was inflicting on it as I determined to get my rocks off. I was driving myself wild. My body thrashed from side to side on the bed, ass cheeks grinding lewdly into the sweat-soaked sheets over the mattress. Fresh sweat burst out all over my hot, flushed skin. I slid my free hand over my belly and chest, rubbing them, caressing the folds of knotted muscle, tickling myself with my nails, pinching my hard, pointed nipples. My legs were all tensed up and I could feel the muscles in my straining calves start to ache, the way they did when I bombed them good during a workout with weights. I flexed my buttocks, too, lifting my ass high off the bed and then slamming it down again with a grunt.
I grabbed my balls in my free hand-they felt as big and swollen as two ripe lemons in my fist-and squeezed them. The sensation was fantastic! I hated to let go of them, but I knew I was about ready to come, and at times like that my asshole seemed to take on a life of its own, with its own screaming sexual needs that had to be satisfied ... my tight sphincter muscle was contracting sharply and I could feel that familiar burning, itching sensation spread through my anus ... fuck-lust.
I released my nuts, letting them flop about freely as my hips surged up and down and my fist pumped away on my prickshaft. Raising my ass off the bed again, I pressed my hand into the sweat-dampened, hairy cleft between my ass cheeks, and shoved my middle finger right up my asshole. That did it! God! I touched my overdeveloped prostate and tickled it roughly with just a fingertip.
It was like pressing the button to set off a rocket. I grunted and squealed like a stuck pig as I surrendered myself totally to the pure animalistic pleasure of jerking off and finger-fucking myself. At the last possible moment before I shot my load, I remembered a trick I'd discovered and perfected when I was just a dumb kid of fifteen and used to jack off like this every night. I pressed the thumb of my cock-milking hand down hard over the gaping, oozing hole of my prickhead to increase the pressure of the sperm boiling up inside it. It was going to be a pretty violent come anyway, since the sperm supply had built up overnight and I'd been hard and frustrated for so long. I shuddered as the delicious warning sensation swept over me. Grinding the tip of my finger against the hard nub of my prostate until my buttocks clenched in reaction, I threw my head back and howled like a horny wolf as my whole body tensed-arched-and began to quiver uncontrollably, going cold and clammy with imminent release-and, at long last, dissolved into a jet of hot white semen.
Come-thick, creamy spurts of it-gushed out beneath my thumb in miniature geysers, knocking my thumb away, splattering all over my squirming, panting body, hitting my throat, my chin, my lips: splat! splat! splat! The last of the milky fluid, its momentum spent, poured down my twitching cockshaft and over my hand as I continued to work the pump and squeeze the last drops out of my balls ... the last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness was gasping for breath and running my dry tongue over my mouth to taste my own sticky, salty jism that had splashed all over my face.
I must've been off for at least half an hour, because when I did come to again the splashes of sperm on my chest and face had dried into flaky, scaly patches. It looked and felt like the heartbreak of psoriasis, but I didn't mind. I felt deliciously dirty and decadent, lying there in my own come and sweat. My finger had slipped out of my ass-I'd actually fallen asleep while fucking myself-and I wiped it off on the sheets and reached for the alarm clock. Ten o'clock ... I had plenty of time to jack off again (yes, my prick was as hard as the proverbial rock again) and then take a long, leisurely hot shower before I had to plan the day ahead of me.
I wouldn't have minded earning some money, by fair means or foul. I was hustling to pay my way through college. I didn't mind living in a crummy apartment on Polk Street, in the heart of San Francisco's gay ghetto, because it was cheap; and my favorite recreation-sex-is one of the few good things in life that's free, unless you're the John. I'd probably be giving some generous senior citizen or two a thrill before the day was over, to build up my capital.
I began to jack off again. My warm blood-bloated piece of meat felt extra sensitive and very good clasped in my fist, being slowly, voluptuously stroked up and down. I had just succeeded in re-establishing that sweet, heavy, gut-clutching up-and-down rhythm, and was emitting enough lurid grunts and groans of autoerotic pleasure to provide the entire dubbed-in soundtrack of a full-length fuck film, when-the motherfucking doorbell rang!
"Sonofabitching fuckershit!" I spat out, as it chimed merrily again and again. I was tempted not to answer, but then I realized it might be Paul, or one of the other guys-so perhaps I wouldn't have to just beat off after all.
I jumped out of bed, picked up my jeans from the floor, and shoehorned myself into them awkwardly, grimacing with pain as I stuffed my raging hard-on down one pants leg and, exhaling sharply, managed to force the zipper to close. Then I stumbled barefoot to the front door and yanked it open.
I did an immediate triple take. I didn't know the stud who was standing there from Adam, but I sure as hell wanted to make his acquaintance. His intimate acquaintance ... carnal knowledge and all that. And what carnality! He was about my age, maybe an inch or two shorter than me, and built like he'd spent every day of his life, all day, working out in a gym. He was the brick shithouse of the cliche, although I doubted than even the more decadent Roman Emperors ever shit in anything that palatially proportioned. He had dark, almost swarthy Italian-looking features, coal black hair, and full, sensual lips; he needed a shave as badly as I did, but in his case the dark beard stubble made him look all the sexier. I glanced down again to make sure the guy's body could be real ... it was. Nero's Outhouse, no doubt about it!
He was wearing worn levis, the kind that had threadbare patches and small holes in strategically located spots, and a T-shirt with the sleeves torn off to expose those muscular shoulders and biceps. Both garments were about two sizes too small-not that I was about to complain. Worn, soiled sneakers without socks completed the outfit. Even his ankles looked muscle bound. There was just too much of him to take in at once, so, trying to keep from drooling, I focused my attention on his incredible basket that, even as my eyes bored into it, thickened more, threatening to burst the seams of those teasing, revealing-while-concealing pants. He was hung, all right.
"Hi ... I'm, um, looking for a Mister Gordon Herrick," the stud drawled in a deep, rumbly voice. He enunciated the words so languidly that it almost sounded like someone struggling with a speech impediment. All brawn, no brains-just the way I liked them.
I was having trouble in that area myself: "That's me," I managed to get out, hoping my tongue wasn't hanging out too far.
He was examining me with the babiest-blue eyes I've ever seen. A slow, sly grin spread over that lush red mouth. "Hi! Wanna fuck?"
"Hunh? Who-me?" Talk about speech defects. "I mean-yeah! I mean-" I wasn't too damn sure what I meant. It had to be the quickest cruise of my extensive experiment; it didn't usually happen this fast, this brazenly, even in outdoor pickup spots.
He invited himself in and I automatically closed the door-and locked it, deciding that this one wasn't going to get away before we'd gotten it on. As he looked around my apartment, taking a casual inventory, I took a not-so-casual one of him. We were well-stocked, all right. The front view of him had been tantalizing enough ... his ass, though, was pure S.P.C.A. material-sheer cruelty to animals! I could imagine my prick disappearing up between those firm, rounded buns, and the mental picture almost made me come in my jeans.
He had turned around to give me the twice-over in return. I suddenly remembered that I was standing there half-naked, filthy, disheveled, covered with telltale patches of my own dried sperm. I reddenned a little, and after all I've been through, I don't blush readily. "Okay, now, what's all this about, Mr, ah-?" Pregnant pause.
He was a bit slow on the uptake. "Yeah, what? Oh! Call me Carlo," he invited me, smiling.
"Gordy. Why don't you take the weight off, Carlo, and-explain yourself?"
He made himself at home, looking mildly offended. "What's to explain? You wanna fuck or don't you, man?" he demanded, slouching back in a chair and thrusting his well-packed crotch out at me. "Ain't I good enough for you-or what?" He smiled belligerently.
I decided to play this surreal little scene super-cool, fighting back my horniness. "You'll do." That got a rise out of him. "But isn't all this just a bit sudden?"
"Hunh?" he asked, looking blank.
When they passed the brains out, this dude must've told them to stick it between his legs, I thought-not that it hadn't turned out rather nicely. "Carlo," I explained patiently, "I don't know who the fuck you are, but I do know that guys don't just appear on my doorstep offering to ball me-and especially not humpy numbers like you."
He positively glowed at this crude compliment I'd tossed him. "Oh, yeah?"
My patience was wearing thin. "Carlo-are you a hustler or what?"
"Do you look like the type who has to pay for it?" he retorted. "Sure I'm a hustler ... sure you're a hustler. Okay, so we're both whores. Big fucking deal. Don't you like me, man? Not your type? Hell, you're mine! I could really give a stud like you a good time, if you're in the mood for a little fun." He was talking so fast, trying to convince one of us, that the words spilled over each other as they left that highly kissable mouth of his. "Don't worry-I'm clean! I don't work the street...." Bullshit; he had rough trade written all over him-"And I been told I'm real good in bed. Want me to take off my clothes so you can get a look at-?"
"Low gear, okay, stud?" I interrupted. I had gotten over my initial astonishment, and my mind was beginning to turn over various possibilities. Carlo could hardly be a thief: I owned nothing worth ripping off. Psychopathic killer planning to carve me up and run me through the sink garbage disposal, bit by bit? For this guy's body, I'd take the risk ... no, it had to be some kind of a sick practical joke dreamed up by Paul or one of the other fuckups I ran around with ... maybe Carlo had been sent over by one of my regular customers as a sort of ambulatory bonus. Well, I'd play along for a while, and we'd see just who ended up as the butt of the joke!
I went over to where I stored my liquor and found a bottle of scotch. "Why don't you run into the kitchen, Carlo," I suggested, with an equally suggestive leer, "and get us some glasses and ice?" As I said it, I oh-so-very-casually pulled my zipper all the way down. The tawny, golden-brown clump of my pubic hair burst into view at the base of the deep V of tanned belly I'd exposed in my open fly. Carlo moistened his lips with his tongue in a quick flick as he actually backed into the kitchen, keeping his sights zeroed in on my crotch all the while until he finally disappeared around the doorjamb.
He was only gone a minute or two. "Up yours," he teased wryly, after I'd poured us both a hefty one.
He'd stripped off his T-shirt and thrown it somewhere. I watched the booze slide down his powerful throat, his Adam's-apple bobbing the way my cock was, inside my half-opened pants. I was dying to put it to this humpy number, and wondered if he'd really go all the way.
I knew a sure method of finding out. I put my hands on his shoulders, marveling at the cool sleekness of his olive-colored skin and at the solid layers of muscle writhing beneath my touch, then ran my fingers down over his hairy chest. "So you want it, huh?" I taunted him, as I might a masochistic John.
"That's right." He smiled invitingly.
"My fucking bod really turns you on, does it?"
"That's right." He stepped close to me, his warm breath flowing over my throat, and started to grope me as I stroked the bulging muscles that flared out beneath his armpits.
"Just who the hell do you think you're trying to-" I started to scoff, but he silenced me quickly enough by grabbing a double handful of my thick blond hair and pulling my head down and kissing me fully on the lips. Our heaving chests were crushed together as we ran our hands over each other's bare backs. Carlo pushed his tongue into my mouth, a wet, sloppy kiss; I kissed back, licking my own tongue over his even, strong white teeth and letting my-our-saliva drool down our chins. Then I broke the kiss and caught my breath, pressing his face against my throat so that his beard stubble irritated my skin the way I liked. We were both breathing hard and I could feel his colossal erection pushing against mine through our pants.
I decided to get a little rough, just to see how much he'd take. "Strip down, you son of a bitch," I barked, pushing him away from me and glaring at him. "I want you bare-assed naked-I want to see if that fucking body of yours is worth wasting my time on or not!" He obeyed me without hesitation, kicking off his sneakers and spreading his legs as he fumbled with the button at the waistband of the tight levis.
"No, let me do it-motherfucking bastard!" I commanded. He stood still, powerful arms at his sides, never taking his eyes off me as I put my hand flat on his belly for a moment, feeling the warmth and the slight rippling motion as he breathed; then, caressing him a little, I lowered my hand and began to pull down his zipper.
"Uh-please, Gordy, Mister Herrick, sir," he pleaded in the timid, strained voice of an ideal masochist, "I'm not wearing no underpants ... don't let anything get caught-"
"Shut your cocksucking mouth," I said pleasantly. And he shut it, trembling a little-with excitement, of course, not anger. But I was careful as I inched his zipper down all the way, until he was in the same condition below the waist that I was. The suspense was getting me more and more excited, and I felt an increasing tension and dampness at my own crotch as my hard cock pleaded for relief.
I got down on my knees and buried my face in his silky black crotch hairs. I could smell the musk odor of his genitals as I put my hands on his waist, then slid them down over his ass cheeks, shoving his levis down and baring his behind in the process. His cock was getting erect and although no more than the base of it was visible yet I could tell it was going to be huge, even bigger than mine. I darted out my tongue and licked the thick root of his prick. He trembled and his jeans, which were now held up only by that semi-erect rod, began to slide off. Carlo reached down to grab them, but I was quicker: I pushed his hands away, grabbed the sagging pants, and yanked them down to his knees. His cock popped out and slapped against my bristly cheek.
He was hung the way I'd always imagined a fuck-movie superstarstud or a male madam's prize stallion would have to be. Carlo's cock was eleven inches long if it was a millimeter, beautifully shaped, with a thick conical shaft blending smoothly into an egg-shaped head, like the bishop in a chess set. It was a Grade-A Italian salami and I immediately remembered that I hadn't had my breakfast yet. I'd fix that soon enough ... I wrapped my hand around the base of his massive dong and, opening my slavering mouth as wide as I could without dislocating my jaw, I went down on my mysterious visitor's meat and sucked it as though I hadn't eaten in a week.
The taste and feel of him in my mouth was sheer bliss. I must confess that, despite my experience in such matters, I couldn't take all of that big beautiful prick down my throat. There was just too much for one guy to handle! I had the head and a good two-thirds of the seemingly endless shaft inside my wide-stretched lips, though, and I made up in enthusiasm for any lack of completeness. Carlo, reaping the full benefits of intense oral labors, didn't complain, certainly. He groaned and grunted and worked his hips, stroking my hair and cheeks with his big hands, as I blew him with all the expertise at my command.
Somehow we ended up in the bedroom, on the bed, with our pants off, sixty-nining as though there'd be no tomorrow, with Carlo's warm naked body on top of mine. I was deep-throating him by then, my head locked between his sweat-slicked, muscular thighs, taking him all the way into my throat until, miraculously, those last few inches of prickshaft that I'd thought I couldn't accommodate only moments before slipped between my lips along with the rest, and I had him all. I sucked that huge, juicy cock into my throat until Carlo's stud balls bounced against my chin on the down-strokes. Then, curbing my wet mouth up the entire length of his dick until it almost slid out of my mouth, I'd roll my tongue all around the head to tease him a bit, sucking furiously all the while. I'd grab a deep breath, then start sliding down that turgid column again, until my nose was buried in his pubic bush.
All the time, I was playing with his ass, finger-fucking him, getting him hot ... and he was doing the same to me. I was determined to fuck that butch butt right off him, and although I didn't really think Carlo would put up much of a fight about it-he was quite obviously gay, not "just trade"-I wanted to get him so hot he'd really be in the mood for the energetic anal athletics I had in mind.
I couldn't see exactly what Carlo was doing to me, but I could sure as hell feel it, and it was driving me wild with lust. He'd suck on the head of my dick for a while, nipping gently at it with his teeth until I wanted to scream with the mingled pain/pleasure; then he'd release my cock and go to work on my balls, taking first one, then the other, then both at once, into his mouth and rinsing them with his saliva, rolling my nuts around between his cheeks and tickling them with his tongue; then he'd spit out my balls and return to my cock, sucking it harder than ever to start the whole cycle over again.
I wanted it to go on forever, but I sensed my orgasm building up and I didn't want to lose my hot load down Carlo's throat when I was saving it for a trip up his ass. Reluctantly, I let his cock pop out of my mouth, pulling mine away from his. He protested, but I said I was going dry and suggested that he fetch the scotch, which we'd forgotten in our preoccupation with other forms of oral gratification.
Carlo brought the bottle to the bed and we finished it off, drinking straight from the bottle-it was a little late to get coy about the possibility of exchanging germs-in deep, thirsty gulps. The husky Italian-American stud was now as sweaty and raunchy-looking as I'd been when I'd opened the door, and he looked so fucking sexy with his damp black hair falling down over his forehead and his monster cock, soaked with my spit, sticking straight up between his legs, that I had to grope him. He fondled me right back. I stuck my tongue in his ear and worked it around in a wet, tickling motion. "Do you fuck, Carlo, baby?" I asked, adopting his own no-nonsense approach.
He was playing with my prick. "Sure, for a hunnert fucking bucks I do anything. You wanna shove this big thing up my ass, Gordy?"
It was Moment of Truth time. "What hundred fucking bucks?!" I demanded, aghast. If he expected me to pay him-!
He clapped his hand over his mouth like a small boy caught using swear words. "Oh-I wasn't supposed to tell you!"
I was getting angry. "Well, it's not coming out of my Goddam pocket, buddy. I hope you got that straight! No sale, man!"
"Oh-I got paid already," he babbled on incoherently. "Fifty ahead of time and the other half after we're done. Cash!" he added proudly. I wasn't aware that hustlers took personal checks or credit cards; I sure as hell never put out unless the trick put up-in cash, up front, before we hit the sack.
"Who gave you all that money to ball another guy?" I asked skeptically.
"Don't know," Carlo replied sullenly. "Just a dude. Didn't tell me his name or nothing."
"Well, what'd he look like, for Christ's sake?"
Carlo squirmed. "Don't know," he repeated. "Young. Tall. Humpy. Just a dude, that's all."
"Um. This dude-he gave you my name and address?"
"Yeah, sure. And fifty bucks to have sex with you, man! Come on-let's fuck! Ram your dick up my ass, I dig it that way!"
"You want to earn your other fifty bucks, huh?" I jeered.
Carlo wasn't the least bit offended. "Yeah, wouldn't you?" he retorted. "Besides-you turn me on. I say that to all the Johns, but this time, no shit. You wanna fuck my ass or don't you, stud? I'm getting the old itch for a dick up there! Bad!"
"I'll fuck you and then you can give it to me." The mystery of who was willing and able to blow a hundred dollars on playing a practical joke on me could wait until later. Right now, the only mystery I wanted to solve was what Carlo would be like to screw. "How's that for fair play, stud?" I asked him.
Carlo bounced around on the bed like a kid promised a new toy. "Oh, sweet motherfucking Jesus Christ!" he blasphemed cheerfully. "I can't believe you fuck, too, man-you look so butch-I been thinking about it, about plugging that ass of yours, ever since I came in the door, man-just you lay there, Gordy, and lemme do all the work-I'll be the best Goddam screw you ever had-"
"Calm down, will you, before you have a heart attack?!" I griped. I had the tube of KY in my hand. We were both hot to trot and I didn't see much point in wasting any more time just talking about it.
Carlo snatched the KY out of my hand, squeezed a generous glob into his palm, and massaged the lubricant all over my craving cock, which responded to his manipulation of it with a lewd twitch. Then he reached behind himself, lubricated the valley between his buttocks, and, grunting, stuck two slicked fingers up his ass. He took the two pillows, threw one of them on top of the other at the head of the bed, and slammed both his palms against my chest, shoving me into a half-sitting, half-reclining position, with my back supported by the pillows.
"Spread your legs, Gordy stud-" I obeyed-
"and I'll sit on your dick, you can watch me beat my fucking meat while you screw the living shit outta me!" It sounded pretty good to me! Carlo faced me and straddled my hips, tucking his legs and feet beneath him on either side of my thighs; I drew my knees up a little to give him some support as he leaned back against them. Carlo reached one hand down to steady my slippery, pulsating cock as he slowly lowered himself onto it. I felt the initial resistance before he quickly re-positioned himself, and then the hot, quivering tissues of his asshole yielded-parted-as Carlo let more and more of his husky weight come down on my jellied-up prick.
"Oh, holy motherfucking shit!" Carlo gasped, throwing his head back so that the muscles of his neck stood out in stark relief. "Jesus! I only got the fucking head of your horse cock up my ass and already it's killing me! I can tell this is gonna be one hell of a fuck!" He suddenly let himself sink down completely, impaling himself to the hilt on my upplunging, in-stabbing weapon. Sweat dripped down his handsome face, trickled off his chest. "Unnnhhh!"he grunted. "Fuck me! Fuck me man fuck me hard, fuck the shit outta my ass-!" he grunted again and again. As if I needed any encouragement, with his unbelievably tight asshole gripping and milking my prick as he slid up and down on my hot piston like a steam engine going full blast!
Carlo was jacking off his eleven-inch tool. I shoved his hands away, spat on my own palms, and wrapped them around his throbbing cock. It seemed to be getting bigger every minute! I could put one hand around the base, the other higher up, and still leave a couple of inches of cockshaft plus the cockhead exposed! He definitely had me beat in the size department, but I was too turned on by his massive endowment to feel envious. Some come was already dribbling from his pisshole and it provided further, welcome lubrication as I worked on his gigantic shaft with both fists.
Carlo began to slow down to prolong the intense pleasure we were sharing, and I tried to suppress my own excitement, too. He'd raise himself up until my cock almost slipped out of his hole, then slowly grind his ass down on me again until I was buried in him to my balls. Up and down, up and down, up and down we fucked. Carlo had his eyes closed, a beautiful expression on his face. Getting screwed well by a big dick can do that to a guy. He kept murmuring, inarticulate sex-pleasure sounds. I kept my own mouth shut and kept working on his dick as he worked his ass around mine, getting closer and closer to coming....
The fucking telephone rang!
"Shit!" I snarled. History was sure repeating itself today!
Carlo didn't open his eyes or stop his up-and-down ass action for a second. "Ain't you gonna answer it?" he grunted innocently. A little too innocently.
It crossed my fuck-fogged mind that whoever had put him up to this was probably calling to deliver the punch line. I went on playing it cool. "Oh, sure ... in fact, I've got this sort of groovy idea, Carlo," I said as I worked my cock around inside him and the phone buzzed on insistently beside the bed. "I'll keep whoever that could possibly be on the line and talk to him the whole time we're fucking!" Carlo just grunted again.
I took one hand away from his salami and wiped it on his hip before grabbing the phone from the nightstand, wedging the receiver between my chin and the pillows so I could keep using both hands to jerk Carlo off.
"Hello?" I was breathing kind of hard and fast and could feel my heart pounding away like gangbusters inside my chest.
"Gordon?" Christ! A woman's voice-or a damned good imitation of one.
"Speaking ... among other things."
She let that one pass. "I was wondering, Gordon, if you've received the little present I sent you yet?"
I was pretty sure it was a real female's voice, not some drag queen's. It was deep and throaty, or deep-throaty if you prefer. Decidedly sexy, whatever its owner's sex.
"As a matter-of-fact, I'm trying it on for size right now." Carlo let out a groan as I brutally shoved my hips upward to fuck him hard and deep.
A low laugh. "Does it fit?"
"Perfectly." It was hard to keep a straight face. "A little tight, but then I like them that way."
"I'm so glad, darling," the woman cooed mockingly. "You see, I didn't pick the item out for you myself. A friend of mine arranged the transaction for me."
"Yeah, I know-Carlo said so."
"Carlo? Is that the stud hustler's name?"
"Yeah. Didn't you know, Miss ... ah?"
"No, I didn't know," Miss Anonymous replied, ignoring my hint. "I haven't met him, as I said. Is Carlo good in bed, Gordy? May I call you Gordy? I know your friends do. And I want us to be friends."
This was getting more bizzare by the second, but I was so high on sex I loved every absurd minute of it. Carlo was turning out to be one of the hottest fucks I'd ever had and the thought of saying as much over the phone to a complete stranger-and a cunt at that-blew my mind. I wondered if any of the phone company employees could be listening in, but I guessed they had strict rules forbidding that. Still, it was a wild fantasy trip-some uptight , straight stud or old fart of either gender listening in and about to get their ears singed! I took a deep breath, then let fly:
"Yeah, you can call me Gordy ma'am and you sure do seem to know a hell of a lot about my business considering we've never met and as a matter-of-fact I don't know yet whether Carlo is any good in bed or not (though I'd say so, give the kid the benefit of the doubt, you know?) because we happen to be in bed together finding that out right this minute and for your information ma'am as I'm talking to you we're on the bed naked and I've got my nice big juicy cock rammed all the way up Carlo's hot tight asshole and we're fucking like horny weasels-ma'am."
A gasp. "Oh Gordy oh God! You mean-the two of you guys are actually-I mean, I just can't believe it-fucking?!-it's just too much-oh my God!"
Carlo and I went on fucking. "You still there, lady?" I asked politely.
"Oh fuck yes, Gordy! Oh, I just can't believe this-please, Gordy, don't hang up on me! You can do me the biggest favor-oh Christ!-listen! I want you to stay on the line and tell me everything you're doing, I mean all of it, right down to the dirtiest little detail! Do you understand? Everything-I" She kept right on blithering the same stuff over and over again.
She wanted me to give her an obscene phone call. I freaked out. But I got the general idea and plunged right in, interrupting her:
"Well, ma'am, Carlo and I are on my bed and we're both bare-assed, of course, and I'm sort of lying back with him sitting on my prick facing me and I'm busy jacking his huge cock off with both hands while I try to keep the fucking phone steady with no hands at all, which incidentally is giving me one hell of a crick in the neck ... Since you say you never met Carlo I guess I better tell you he's a real humpy number, a bit stud-built like a pro bodybuilder-and just the sight of all his naked muscle would be enough to make me blow my hot wad let alone the thought that I'm actually fucking that sweet butch ass of his.
"My cock is going in and out between his buns like crazy, I'm so turned on ... I guess that not having a cock or nothing yourself ma'am you don't know what it's like to fuck ass, or cunt either for that matter. Well, you can't imagine what you're missing! It's usually great, but it differs from guy to guy. Take Carlo, now. To look at the butch fucker you'd think he was one of God's little innocents, come wouldn't melt in his cocksucking mouth-but I'm afraid he's such a hot, experienced male whore (like me) that that educated ass of his knows exactly how to take care of a hard, aching ten-inch prick like mine. He's using muscles in that hot shit trough of his that most guys don't even know they have, and my dick feels like it's being massaged by hundreds of tiny dollars-oops, I meant hundreds of tiny fingers, there's this kind of tingling sensation all over my body but especially at the base of my cock and my balls, a buzzing and pounding feeling-"
I heard loud gasps and moans at the other end of the line. "Oh Gordy, oh God-my panties are soaking wet I think I'm going to come just listening to you! Hold on-hold on just a second until I can get into my bedroom and on my bed and switch over to the phone in there...." There was a thump as she let the receiver fall.
Shit on her. Did the bitch think I was going to fuck around all day until she got nice and comfortable before I got my rocks off? I began concentrating more on what I was doing, responding to Carlo's horny up-and-down action with some pretty wild thrusts and twists of my own. "Unh, unh, unnnh, uhhhhh!" the hot-assed little hustler grunted from between clenched teeth, as I jacked off his slimy sausage as hard as I could. "I'm gonna come man-oh fuck me man I'M COMMMINNNGGG-!"
"GORDY! ARE YOU STILL THERE?!" the cunt shrieked in my ear.
"NO, BUT I'M COMING!" I punned wickedly. It was all I could get out before my too-long-delayed ejaculation took my breath away!
Carlo yelled something suitably obscene as he slammed his spasming ass down on me for the last time before my cock burst, filling his bowels with the turgid flood of my warm, wet jism. I shot such a huge load into him that it overflowed the reservoir of his anus, spurted out around my cockshaft as I continued to plunge it in and out of the suddenly-slippery anal ring that encircled it, and dripped down all over my tensed belly and thighs onto the sweat-soaked, crumpled sheets. At the same instant, Carlo's cock twitched so violently inside the tunnel made by my fists that I almost lost my grip on it. He fired his hot, thick cannonade of come all over me-my face and hair and chest and the pillows. We both went into our come-convulsions, and as I frantically jerked my head forward and tried to catch some of Carlo's semen in my mouth, I knocked the receiver off the bed and to the floor. Tough shit, lady! Anyway, her three minutes were up!
Carlo fell forward on top of me and started covering me with kisses, licking his own come off my face, bending his head so he could lap at my tits with his warm tongue. I raised my legs higher and wrapped them tightly around his narrow waist that was expanding and contracting rapidly as he breathed hard. My cock was still deep in his ass and I wanted to hold on to the great feeling of being inside him as long as I could. I was still pulling on his prick, and it was still wetting my hands with the last feeble spurts of his ejaculation.
"What a fuck! What a fuck! Oh, what a fuck!" Carlo moaned into my ear. "No! Don't pull your cock outta me yet! Just you lay still, let your fucking dick go soft, man, and let it slip outta my ass nice and easy ... I'm filled up with your hot come, man! I can feel it in my ass! I can feelit, man! My shithole's been scalded by your fucking hot stud come!"
"Sorry about that, Carlo baby," I said lightly. "Occupational hazard." His cock was getting soft in my fingers; I let go of it and wiped my hands on his back, then gave him a backrub as his limp meat flopped down and came to rest between our thighs as we writhed slowly together. He groaned and let his weight sink down on me. We lay there like that, panting, getting our wind back, not rapping or anything-hardly moving-for maybe five minutes. Finally Carlo lifted himself enough to let my soft dick slide out of his ass with a lurid squishing noise, and jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom.
I squirmed around to get more comfortable, suddenly remembered the Mystery Voice and snatched up the phone from the floor.
"Gordy? Gordy?! You haven't hung up on me, have you?!"
"No, ma'am."
"I came, Gordy! Without even touching my pussy or my clit or anything! I just lay back on my bed and held the phone in one hand and reached under my slip with the other and played with my titties and just the thought of you two big strong gorgeous young hunks of men going at each other, oh the sounds you were making, like animals fucking, it made me come all over the bed-I'm just sopping wet down there, my thighs are soaked with my pussy juice and-"
"That's just great, ma'am. I hope you had as good a time as Carlo and I did. And I hope you got your hundred bucks' worth."
"Oh yes, I did!" She sounded positively ecstatic over it all.
"Wonderful. Now, would you mind telling me who you are and what the fuck all this is about?"
"Is Carlo still there? Or did you fuck him to death, the lucky boy? I don't like to discuss it in front of him...."
"Yeah, he's back." He'd cleaned himself up a little, I noticed as he sat down on the bed beside me and started playing with my prick, teasing it into erection again.
"I used one of your towels, Gordy," he announced.
"That's okay, Carlo," I said without taking my mouth away from the receiver.
"Who're you talking to, anyway?"
"My grandmother ... it's okay, she's a dyke." Hysterical female laughter rang in my ear at this witticism.
Carlo shot me a vaguely resentful look-and then went down on my cock. He licked it clean, even though it had just been pulled out of his asshole. I gave a faint groan of erotic excitement.
'Granny' heard me. "Gordy? What's going on now?"
"You ought to ask what's up. We are, that's what, and I think Carlo wouldn't mind fucking my ass with that horse cock of his if I asked him to real nice." Carlo, cheeks puffed out as he sucked greedily on my joint, grunted in affirmation.
"Oh, shit Gordy darling! Just hearing you say the word fuck makes me as horny as hell! Listen, I've got a wonderfully wicked idea! Why don't we both have a little fun? Why don't you and what's his-name, Carlo isn't it, just hold on for a couple of minutes-or get ready or whatever it is you gay men do-and I'll run and get Perry and bring him up here and have him fuck me while Carlo fucks you, and all the time we're getting fucked we can talk to each other and compare notes on our studs' techniques!"
I didn't know what this broad was high on, but I sure as hell would have to find out and try some myself! Well, it was her hundred-and her phone bill. "Sure," I agreed recklessly. "Let's phone-fuck, beautiful!"
"Just hang on until I get Perry up here!"
"Who the hell is Perry, anyway? Another hustler?"
"No, he's this simply gorgeous young boy that the landlord pays to mow the lawn and do odd jobs in our apartment building, and I get him to screw me when my lover isn't around to do the job." I could swear I heard her smack her lips! What a slut-it sounded as though she was laying half the guys in Frisco, gay, straight, bisexual, and undecided! "Anyway, Perry's only sixteen but already his cock is that big-oh, you'd really dig him, Gordy, but I'm afraid he's pretty straight-in fact I'm sure he was a virgin before I got hold of him and taught him a few things-would you believe it, he still blushes whenever I put my hand in his pants and pull his dick out! But never mind all that now, Gordy-just let me get him, I know he's downstairs working-!"
"We'll, uh, hang on," I promised, freaked out by her wild, shameless sexuality. I put down the receiver, grabbed Carlo by the hair, and pulled him off my cock. "I want you to rim me a little before you fuck me, Carlo-I don't want you to use any KY or anything when you ram it in me, either-just spit. I really want to feel that big thing going up my ass and fucking me, stud!"
He looked up at me, grinning lasciviously. "You'll feel it, all right, buddy-I'll tear your ass apart!"
"Oh, that's what they all say." I rolled over onto my belly and spread my legs as far apart as I could, pulled one of the fat pillows under me to cushion my cock so it wouldn't have to rub against the mattress and the grimy sheets, and buried my face in the other pillow. I picked up the phone and held it to my mouth and ear, waiting.
Carlo knelt between my thighs and put a hand on each of my buttocks. He got a firm grip and pulled my ass cheeks apart. Then I trembled as I felt the warm, moist tip of his tongue tickling my hole. I relaxed my sphincter muscles, and Carlo, stiffening his tongue, thrust it into my anus until I could feel his unshaven lips and cheeks pressing against my asslips to create a firm seal. He began to run his tongue around in rapid circles, to flick it teasingly in and out, to nibble at the hypersensitive flesh of my asshole with his teeth ... I moaned and gasped and worked my buttocks furiously to let him know just how good it felt. Saliva drooled from my open, panting mouth onto the pillow and I caught some of the wet cotton cloth of the pillowcase between my teeth and chewed on it to keep from screaming with lust!
The phone came back to life: "Gordy?"
"Unnnh-unnnh-unnnh!" was all I could answer in my state of acute arousal.
"Is that you, Gordy?"
Who'd she think it was-Western Union? "Unn-nnh!" I grunted again, trying to make it sound like yes.
"God, Gordy, Perry and I are lying on my bed-we're both naked-and he's eating my pussy!"
I spat out the spit-soaked wad of pillowcase. "What a coincidence," I managed to say, "since Carlo happens to be eating my ass."
"Oh Gordy!" She let out a long ahhhhhl of pure bliss. "I do that to Perry and it simply drives the poor child insane! Doesn't it, Perry, darling? He's too busy giving me this glorious head to even hear me ... he's a sweet boy, but I'm afraid he's not terribly bright."
My ass was on fire. "What a coincidence-" I wasn't able to finish the wisecrack I intended at Carlo's expense because suddenly Madame X gave a blood curdling screech that nearly pierced my eardrum.
"Oh fuck, Gordy! Perry's jumped up and thrown himself on top of me! All his weight on me, crushing me, I can hardly breathe! His beautiful suntanned body-he's sucking on my titties, Gordy!" she shrieked. She began panting like a bitch in heat. Come to think of it, I guess she was a bitch in heat. "I've got one hand on his hard-on, Gordy-it's so big I can't close my fingers around it! I'm pushing it down between my pussy lips now ... Gordy, he's trying to ram it in my cunt, oh God he's killing me with that huge hard cock! His cock is killing me! Tearing me! It's ripping right into my pussy, it's ripping my pussy apart! The fucker is killing me-he's FUCKING MEEEEEEEEEE-!!!"
I couldn't stand it any longer. "Fuck me, Carlo!" I shouted. "Shove it in me, fast! Ram all that hot meat of yours right up my whore ass, you lousy punk hustler! Hurry up-Perry's way ahead of us, we got to catch up! Fuck me, fuck my ass-"
He didn't need to be asked twice. He fell at full length on top of me, almost knocking the wind out of my lungs, grabbed my hair, twisted my head around and jammed his mouth down on mine in a brutal kiss. Our tongues lashed together frantically as he held my ass cheeks apart with one hand and I felt his huge dick rub against my asshole and try to force its way through the tiny opening. I thrust my hips up-felt that enormous cockhead scrape its way through my asshole-and then everything dissolved into raw pain! I screamed my fucking head off! God, he was hung.
"Take it easy, man-easy!" Carlo gasped as I cried and whimpered beneath him. He nibbled at my earlobes, sank his teeth into my shoulder, kneaded my ass cheeks, reached under me and put one hand around my prick and began to jerk me off. I forced myself to try to relax. "That's the way, Gordy stud ... just let that hot shit-chute of yours wrap itself nice and easy around my big cock. Take it, take it all, every inch ... wait until it's all in you, man, and it won't hurt at all. You'll love it! I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
Somehow the phone cord had gotten twisted around my neck and the receiver was lying on the pillow an inch or two away from my face. "Gordy!" I could hear the cunt screaming at the top of her voice, "oh, Gordy, his cock is sliding in and out of my pussy so fast, he's fucking me so hard, he's fucking me to death, Gordy! Is Carlo screwing you like that?! Oh, Gordy-couldn't you just die?"
The possibility crossed my mind! I clawed at the phone cord and pulled it away from my throat before it strangled me. But any second now I expected to feel Carlo's ruthless prong pierce right through my guts, slam up into my throat from below, and choke me to death! He was slowly but surely feeding that monster salami of his all the way up my tortured ass! I could feel each inch of thick pulsating cock as it forced itself past my sphincter and deep into my rectum. One inch. Two. Three! My whole body was shivering with mingled terror and lust! I wanted it all-all of his big dick-even if it did kill me! "He's got his cock in me!" I bellowed into the phone. "I feel like my ass is burning up!"
"Oh Christ, Gordy, I know, I know," the bitch sobbed. "My cunt's on fire!"
Four inches. Five. Six! "I don't think I can take it all," I groaned into the phone, panicking. "He's killing me, it's just too fucking big!"
"P-P-Perry has his all the way in me, darling!
Shit, I'm dying! We've done it dozens of times, but it's always like losing my cherry all over again! I could swear he's split the lips of my pp-pussy wide open! Aaaaahhhhh!"
Carlo rubbed his face against the nape of my neck, whispering into my ear in a soothing tone, but his voice was too hoarse with desire for me to be able to make out the words. And he kept forcing more cock up my bloated, expanding hole, seven inches ... eight! Nine! "He's got it all the way up my ass!" I cried triumphantly. "I-I think I can take it all after all!"
Famous last words!
Ten inches ... TEN INCHES?!?!?!!!
"TEN INCHES!" I screamed, writhing about on the bed in a desperate but inevitably futile attempt to escape from the relentless penetration before I was pinned to the bed like a butterfly in its glass display case! Carlo's masturbating fist was rubbing my cock raw. The sweat was simply pouring off both of our bodies. Or maybe it was blood gushing out of my punctured ass!
"Ten inches?" the cunt echoed incredulously. "Jesus Christ, Gordy, he'll ruin your ass with that thing! I've measured Perry's and it's only eight and a half, but it's tearing my cunt in two! He's shoving it in and out of me, he's biting my breasts and pawing at me-it's like being fucked by some kind of great big wild ferocious horny animal.-!"
A gurgling sound erupted deep in my throat. Carlo had eased his mighty prick all the way into me at last; his hips were crushed tight against my buttocks. I had at least eleven inches of giant economy-sized cockmeat up my asshole. For a moment I lay still, not even daring to breathe, working every muscle I could find in an effort to ease the pressure inside my plugged ass. Carlo lay quietly too, catching his breath, playing with my cock.
Then he began to fuck me. He'd carefully, torturously pull his immense dick out of me until only the head of it was still stretching my sphincter to the breaking point ... then he'd begin the slow, heart-stopping process of making a steady downward thrust that drove the walls of my ass wide open again. Up and down. In and out. Faster and faster, accelerating his masturbating fist right along with his cock, no longer taking any precautions to avoid hurting me.
I was making plenty of noise, urging Carlo to fuck me faster and harder and then cursing him when he did so; but I was pretty well drowned out by the constant barrage of high-pitched shrieks and obscenities from the other end of the telephone connection. It's a wonder the wires didn't melt. The bitch and I were singing a fuck duet at full volume, accompanied by a Mahlerian orchestration of pounding bodies, heavy breathing, lurid grunts and groans, and screechy, protesting mattress springs ... the horns pealed, the trumpets and trombones blared, the strings slashed, the winds squealed, the timpani thundered ... and we fucked on and on, wildly! The conductor sped up the tempo as he tore into the final pages of this X-rated score and we all got ready to attack our high C-C for Climax, C for Come!
"I'm coming!" I howled in a Wagnerian bellow. A strange male voice echoed me over the phone-Perry, I assumed.
"Me too!" the cunt trilled. The cymbals inside my head crashed, deafening me.
Carlo reared up, grunting, and slammed his cock deep into me, pulled back and came down harder, pulled back and came down ... "Oh yeah man! Now! Now! Let's all come together!" he gasped. He rammed his rod into me harder than I'd ever been fucked in my life, completely fulfilling his promise and exceeding even my wildest sexual fantasies, my wettest dreams-and my body exploded! Come shot out of my prick, spread out over me in a puddle, drenching my crotch, the sheets, the pillows, everything, in a tidal wave of hot, wet male seed.
Carlo was coming, too, pumping more come into my ass. I could feel the weird, exciting sensation as the surplus bubbled up around his still-plummetting prickshaft and overflowed onto my buttocks, running in streams down my back and thighs, lubricating the space between our bodies as we squirmed and squished against each other like two mating eels in an aquarium tank.
Shriek upon shriek of female orgasmic release battered my eardrums from the phone that lay beside us on the bed. The shrill sounds of her ecstasy changed in sobs and choking sounds, then died away completely.
The conductor put down his baton ... the audience applauded ... the curtain fell ... and the fucked-out performers collapsed, exhausted.
The last thing that registered in my mind before I passed out was the click that came over the receiver as the bitch hung up.
CHAPTER TWO
Like most young children, I was obsessed with sex from an early age-and since I was one of those boys who had to shave early, I was especially eager to put theory into practice. Nevertheless, I didn't lose my virginity until the ripe old age of sixteen-heterosexually speaking, that is. Although I've always believed that most men who call themselves bisexual are really j ust closet cases with a definite preference for their own gender, I've never had any difficulty switch-hitting, from gay to straight and back again at the drop of a pair of pants. My first erotic experiences with other people were gay ones.
I never knew either of my real parents. The fact that my mother put me up for adoption the day I was born suggests that my name was on the birth certificate long before hers was ever on a marriage license. Anyway, she made herself as scarce as my biological father probably did when she announced the upcoming blessed event to him.
I had the good luck to be adopted almost immediately. The Herricks were great people, a middle-aged couple whose own two children had just grown up and struck out on their own. What the Herricks wanted with another bawling brat to take care of when they'd just been freed from two of their own after twenty years of parenthood is beyond me, but I'm grateful to them. I wasn't spoiled: they taught me the value of a dollar, and all the other middle-class virtues. When I was fifteen, they died, within a few months of each other, and although they were an elderly couple by then, it was still a shock for a kid my age.
Their estate was divided between my "brother" and "sister," both of whom had always hated my guts, and me ... I got a small trust fund which, however, I couldn't touch, except for the interest, until I was twenty-one. At fifteen that seemed a long way off-practically senility. Anyway, it was decided to ship me off to a private boys' boarding school until I decided what I wanted to do with my life, go to college or what.
The school wasn't a bad place. The other guys were all in the throes of post-puberty satyriasis, which meant that once I cast off my few inhibitions about "fooling around" with other boys, there was an inexhaustible supply of potential sex partners. I was big for my age, too, so it was clear from the start that if anybody did any raping, it was going to be me, not the other way around. My very first encounter with anything more responsive than my right hand, however, was by mutual horny consent.
My roommate in the dormitory was a guy named Rich. I don't know whatever became of him, but wherever he is, even if he's acquired a wife, six kids, a beer belly and an ulcer, Gordy Herrick is willing to put out for him, any time, any place, any sex act, just for old times' sake. Rich was on the school's swimming team, and had what male models and unlicensed masseurs, i.e, male whores, who advertise in underground newspapers refer to as a "swimmer's build," nicely muscled, but smooth and trim. Anyway, the two of us got it on together rapidly and enthusiastically progressing from mutual masturbation to sucking and fucking, taking turns, experimenting with our bodies, trying out just about everything our overactive young imaginations could dream up. As in most such all-male institutions, there was a regular underground clique of gay guys-even faculty members!-who all had sex with each other in various incestuous combinations. I don't know how many of the kids turned out to be exclusively gay, but at the time it all seemed harmless enough-a quick way of getting rid of one's sexual tensions and having some fun in bed at the same time.
Being able to boast that you'd made it "all the way" with a girl was still the big status symbol everyone strove toward, though. Those of us who had sex with each other were often, paradoxically, the ones who were bolder in their pursuit of chicks, more determined to get laid that way, too. Our social lives were strictly monitored, of course, but it was at a dance sponsored by the school that I got my first go at a cunt-literally. It wasn't the girl I was interested in, just that part of her anatomy.
I danced-awkwardly enough, I'm sure-with a girl named Charlene, who looked angelic and virginal in her party dress but who turned out to be dynamite stuff when it came to necking and petting. We slipped out of the main room and went up a staircase leading to a fire escape to talk in private, heh heh. Charlene was a tall girl, almost my height, and we kissed and groped for each other from the minute we were sure we couldn't be observed by the chaperones. We had our arms around each other's waists, so I could feel her breasts against my chest and my swollen cock pressing up into the space between her legs. Still kissing me with her tongue, she slid one hand down against my hip. I felt it drift over against my ass cheek, as though by accident, so I twisted slightly and rubbed the front of my pants against her palm. I was so excited I thought I would explode! As we kissed harder and deeper, Charlene increased the pressure of her hand on my imprisoned prick, rubbing, stroking ... panting, with our lips glued together, I thought I would have a sex fit or something, I was so fucking turned on! It was actually happening to me-I was actually necking with a chick and she seemed as eager to touch my big cock as Rich or any of the other guys always was!
Of course, I was dying to fondle her, too, but I didn't know whether to go after her tits or cunt or both. I settled for tit ... letting my hand slip inside the cleavage of her dress and sneak under the cup of her bra. Still groping me quite brazenly, Charlene put up her free hand and firmly pushed my fingers away from her breast. Shit! Here the slut was, her hand rubbing my crotch bulge, her tongue in my mouth and half-way down my throat, and she wouldn't even let me cop a quick feel of her bare tit!
I tried to figure it out ... if she wouldn't let me touch her boobs, she sure as hell wasn't going to let me finger her cunt. With my lack of practical knowledge about what heterosexual couples did, and my boyish obsession with the sex organs themselves, I reasoned that I had only three alternatives-tits, cunt, or cock. Since two were temporarily out of the question, I decided to try the third.
I moved my hand down between our bodies and put it on top of hers, pressing her palm even more firmly over the bulge of my erection. No resistance, just a low moan of pleasure from her lips against mine. Good! I found my zipper and pulled it down. Still no resistance. Better yet! I shoved my hand into my open fly and groped for my horny dick ... it had swollen so big that I couldn't get the fucker out through the flap of my jockey shorts! I struggled and squirmed, but to no avail. Finally, in desperation, I broke our kiss and pushed my underpants down and yanked my prick out by sheer brute force. Charlene's hand closed around it immediately, squeezing it hard.
"Oh, God-it's so big!" she blurted out, which did wonders for my male ego. Her breathing got harder and louder, her arms tightened around me, and she pressed herself much closer. Obviously she was enjoying herself. I decided not to fuck around. If she could feel me up, I could do the same to her! I ran my hand up her leg and began caressing her crotch through her nylon panties. To my surprise, this time Charlene didn't resist, but began moving her hips back and forth slowly, moaning softly-she dug it!
Thrilled, I slipped my hand right under the elastic of her panties-and there it was, her cunt, pressing right against my bare hand. I tried to get my fingers inside the hairy lips, which were wet and slippery ... her moans became louder, her motions faster and more abandoned. She spread her legs to give me even better access to her twat and seemed to be really turned on. I plunged my other hand down inside her dress again, and she didn't complain as I found her nipple and squeezed it inside her tight-fitting bra.
Charlene rubbed against my hand faster and more forcefully, speeding up her pumping on my prick at the same time-and that did it. I shot off all over her hand and the front of her dress. "Oh, oh, oh-ohhhhh," she groaned lewdly, as my come squirted out of my cock and she watched my ejaculation, a sexy look on her face. She pulled back to get her cunt away from my hand and used her hanky to wipe her dress.
It was time to rejoin the party. On our way back down the stairs she made me solemnly swear I'd never tell anybody about what we'd done, and of course I lied and swore on my mother's grave ... having never known my mother, let alone her grave-for all I knew she was still very much alive and having more illegitimate kids-I felt safe enough in making the oath. Five minutes later I was boasting to some of my friends about how I'd fingered a real pussy. I didn't tell them whose, but they'd all seen me with Charlene, and I imagine she quickly got a reputation as a hot and willing make-out date.
A year later I graduated from the private school with fairly good grades, and was accepted by a local junior college. I already had an occupation, of sorts, that brought in some welcome extra money. I'd always been interested in music-all kinds-and had become a better than decent percussion man who could double on the saxophone and clarinet (no cocksucking jokes, please). I took advantage of a loophole in the local labor laws that was designed to allow child prodigies to perform in concert halls and so on, and got a lot of work playing with a couple of jazz bands, and also doing all sorts of backup work for radio commercials, wedding receptions, private parties, and the like. It was good money and I met older guys who seemed terribly sophisticated to me. They were "the wrong crowd," which was one reason I liked being with them. One night one of the boys in the band, Phil, decided to take me, Rich, and a couple of other buddies of mine to a whorehouse so we could lose our cherries and our bodies would be saved for heterosexuality.
We parked the car and walked to the ordinary-looking house, surprised there was no red light in the window or over the door. The five of us stood on the porch, all afraid to commit ourselves, until Phil grunted, "Aw, you little faggots are all chicken-shit!" and rang the doorbell loud and long.
I expected some tough old broad to open the door, but instead a moderately attractive peroxide blond appeared. "Yeah?" she asked, not showing much interest. None of us said anything. "Well, what the fuck do you want?" she demanded.
"We want to get laid," Phil said bluntly.
She examined us languidly. "You guys all twenty-one?"
"Yeah, sure!" we all chirped in our recently-broken voices.
Inside, the hallway had been turned into a makeshift reception area that looked like an impoverished doctor's waiting area. The blonde told us we'd be taken in and serviced in turn, as the other girls became free. We waited in tense, agitated silence, ashamed to look at each other. Only Phil was at ease.
"You got enough money?" the madam demanded.
"How much is it?" Phil asked warily.
"Five for a straight, ten for a French, fifteen for around the world, and twenty on up for any fancy stuff," she recited.
I had twelve bucks, which apparently would cover the essentials.
Rich leaned toward Phil and whispered. "Hey! What's a French?"
"A blow job, asshole," Phil explained loudly. "What you and Gordy do all the time for free! Think it's worth a ten-spot?"
Blushing, but choosing to ignore the crack, Rich asked, "And what's around the world?"
"That's when they lick you all over and stick their tongue up your ass."
"Oh." I knew what Rich was thinking-we'd tried that, and was it worth paying fifteen for what we'd gladly treat each other to for free? At this rate, we might just be condemned to homosexuality for life. It was a hell of a lot cheaper.
Finally the drapes leading into another room parted, and a fat redhead in her late twenties-her heavy make-up made her look old enough to be her own mother-appeared. She was wearing one of those drag queen transparent gowns with a sheer bra and panties visible underneath.
"Okay," she grunted. "Who's first?" Then she got a better look at the clientele. "Christ! What is this-amateur night?! These punks don't look old enough to be potty trained yet, let alone know how to fuck!"
Phil paid the blonde five bucks for a straight and disappeared with the caustic cunt. Soon the drapes opened again and a short, dark-haired girl with Spanish features appeared, wearing an ordinary blue bathrobe and slippers. I jumped up bold as brass and in my deepest, butchest voice announced, "I'll take a straight, too," giving the blonde a five-dollar bill. I'd be damned if I was going to waste money on a blow job when I hadn't even been screwed the usual way yet and Rich could suck cock as well as any whore could, for all I knew.
"That's Elena," the madam informed me as she stuffed the money down the front of her dress, between her boobs.
"What's your name, honey?" Elena asked pleasantly as we went up a flight of stairs and into a small bedroom.
"Uh-Gordy," I said, having almost forgotten it in my nervousness.
There was a double bed, a washbasin, and a bureau in the room, which was virtually bare otherwise. Knowing that I was going to get laid made me nearly breathless with excitement and dread.
Elena opened the top drawer of the bureau and took out a washcloth and a bar of soap. "Here," she said, handing them to me. I went to the washbasin and began washing my hands, not knowing why. "No, no," she exclaimed, exasperated, as though talking to an infant. "She unzipped my pants, soaped up the cloth, and began scrubbing my turgid cock and aching balls-very thoroughly and professionally.
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Twenty-one," I moaned, trying not to come into the washcloth.
"No, I mean really ... it's okay, I won't tell."
"Well-seventeen," I answered truthfully.
"Your first time, huh?"
"Yeah-with a girl, anyway," I added in a sudden burst of honesty.
Elena didn't bat an eyelash, though, as she dried me off. "Has anybody ever told you, you got a real nice one?"
"Uh-not really." I wasn't used to having my prick discussed so openly, let alone praised.
"Well, it is-a real nice one. Big and fat and juicy," she said, smiling. And then it happened ... kneeling in front of me, she lifted my cock in her hand and put her tongue at the base of my balls and licked all the way to the tip of the head. Then the whole head and half the shaft slipped into her mouth. I had never felt or imagined anything quite so erotic, not even with Rich. She ran my cock slowly in and out of her warm, wet mouth a few times, and I could feel myself tensing up, ready to explode, when she abruptly stopped and got up again. One more lick and it would've been over.
"Let's get into bed, honey," she suggested, kicking off her slippers and peeling off her robe. She was nude underneath, her skin olive, with breasts that drooped just slightly, small-nippled ... her hips were larger, and a triangular mass of black pubic hair curled up from between her legs. I stripped and joined her on the bed. She ran her hands all over my body, as I began doing the same to hers, slipping one hand between her thighs-which she obligingly opened-to feel her hair and the lips of her pussy. Elena reached down, took my index finger, and guided it into the slippery warmth of her wet cunt. Even though she didn't hump and get excited the way Charlene had, I was pleased with myself. I was really about to get fucked! It was fantastic!
She stroked my cock and immediately I knew it was going to be too late. I pushed her hand away, but I was already spurting semen, and I shot all over the bed, helplessly. Shit!
Still, I rolled toward her and tried to mount her, knowing that I could get erect again soon and try again. She reached down and grasped my slimy, still semi-stiff prick. I thought she was going to put it in her pussy, but her dark eyes only smiled at me mockingly.
"You wouldn't be trying to kid an old pro like me, would you, baby?" she laughed.
I smiled back weakly, knowing I had blown it. She pushed me off her. "If we just waited a minute-" I began gamely.
"Maybe some other time." The cunt!
I dressed hurriedly and went downstairs. All the other guys were waiting for me, having been with the other whores. "What took you so damn long?!" Phil wanted to know. "Christ!"
I leered knowingly. "She liked me, so she gave me a blow job for free and then it took us a long time to fuck. I really fucked the shit out of her," I lied shamelessly. "She was terrific!"
Actually, I was pissed off a little ... there I'd been, in bed with a woman for the first time, her luscious paid-for cunt just waiting for my cock, and I had had a premature ejaculation! I thought I was probably the only poor jerk in the world who'd paid to go to bed with a whore and still hadn't been laid!
During the trip back, with our balls quieted down for the night, we started thinking about possible consequences ... we talked about syphilis and gonorrhea, which our gym teacher back at school had explained to us, and, despite all the gruff comradeship of four guys who had just been laid and one who had pretended he had been laid, I think we were all scared shitless. I told myself she'd only used her mouth on me, but she must have sucked off hundreds of guys ... suppose one of them had a dose?!
For two weeks after that night, I examined myself carefully every chance I got, just waiting for that telltale sore or drip to appear. It didn't, much to my relief, and I calmed down and forgot about it. That was my first and last trip to a whorehouse, though. I decided to find some foxy chick who would fuck for free-with no time limit imposed.
CHAPTER THREE
So what was a nice guy like me doing in a business like male prostitution?
To put myself through school I started doing after-hours gigs at places in San Francisco's notorious Tenderloin district-a wild area, frequented by bums and winos, addicts, whores, their customers and pimps, and homosexual men and women. The clubs would open at two in the morning, when the bars closed, serving food and soft liquor until sunrise or even later. Most of these places were bars that had had their liquor licenses revoked for serving booze to minors, but, surprisingly, they actually did a better business as dry clubs than they had as bars. People were attracted by the groups that played there, and for fifty cents a cup of coffee, and/or breakfast, they could sit and groove on the music we ground out all night. Of course, the patrons got hustled for another cup of coffee every fifteen minutes, and those who weren't already strung out on one drug or another probably ended up caffeine freaks.
Nicolo's, my favorite place then, was dark and dirty, but very popular. It was a hangout for streetwalkers trying to get that last trick of the evening, for their pimps who tried to push their girls onto the Johns, for gays after the gay bars closed, and for male hustlers. I met one called Marty there.
He was about six feet tall and always wore garish cowboy clothes-tight levis, a studded western shirt open to the waist, and a faded jeans jacket, with a Stetson hat on his carefully touslec hair. He was the kind of butch but baby-faced type some Johns go for (as I learned later), so you couldn't really tell how old he was. Even though he lied a lot about all sorts of things, he claimed to have been in the Navy, and he certainly spoke about life on ship authoritatively enough for me to believe at least that much.
One night I was playing the drums and, during a break, I leaned against a wall-the place was crowded-to smoke a cigarette. Marty was slouched against the wall too, but in a stereotype hustler's stance, and he lit my fag (so to speak!) for me.
"Cruising for trade?" he asked me, casually, by examining every part of my body at once.
"Huh?" I replied dumbly.
"You cruising for trade? You know-hustling?"
"Hell no," I said, not even sure what he meant Christ, was I naive back then!
"You ever hustled?" he demanded, skeptical now, as though it was unbelievable that I hadn't
"No."
He put his lips close to my ear so that I could hear him above the noise, and whispered quite matter-of-factly, "Well, shit, kid, you ought to You're built good for it. You could make a bundle peddling that ass and cock. I saw you had the equipment the minute you walked in here ... you could make some heavy bread."
"Yeah? How much?" I asked, already interested. A born whore.
"Young stuff like you? Don't make me laugh-a hundred a night, easy. No sweat."
"How much?!" I sputtered in disbelief. He had to be shitting me!
He shoved a hand into his tight levis and pulled out a wad of bills thick enough to make my eyes pop out of my head. It must've been seven or eight hundred dollars in cash, and I was immediately horrified because, dumb as I was, I did know you couldn't carry more than twenty or thirty bucks around with you in that part of town without begging to be mugged-or worse. I had never seen so much money in one place in my life, but I said, "Put it away, for Christ's sake, before you get rolled."
Marty laughed. "No way. I got a knife on me. Of course, all this ain't from just tonight."
"Yeah? But tell me-just how do you go about hustling?"
The room was filled with smoke and the noise from the band and loud conversation so we finally went outside to talk where we could hear each other. Leaning against the building and watching the nightly parade of hookers, transvestites, and other social refuse pass by, Marty explained exactly what he did. It was simple. He let gay men suck him off for cold, hard cash on the spot. Most of the customers were closet types, married, pretending to be straight, and so eager to score with a humpy guy quickly and discreetly that they'd do it in a dark alley, a car, anywhere they saw a young stud wearing tight pants to show he was reasonably well hung. It could all be over in three or four minutes, because the Johns were nervous about being caught by vice cops, rolled by hustlers' accomplices, etc. and wanted to get the stud's gun off fast so they could get the hell out.
I couldn't believe it was that easy. "But how do you meet these guys?" I wanted to know.
"Are you putting me on? There's ten, twelve right here on this fucking street now!" Marty pointed a few potential Johns out to me then and there. "All you have to do is stand against the building and look punk-sexy ... you know, make sure your whang makes a big bulge in your pants. Then, as the guys walk past, you just sort of make eye contact with them, let them know you'll put out for bucks. If they're Johns, they'll slow down, maybe walk back and forth a couple times to get up the nerve to come over and talk to you. If they're shy, and you're sure they're not cops, just stick your hand in your pocket and sort of stroke your peter. That usually gets them so hot they'll do anything to suck it for you!"
"Jesus!" I exclaimed, completely awed by the brazenness of it all.
"Then they'll come over and say something dumb about the weather, or ask for directions, or a light ... and you come on with your pitch, unless they come right out and offer to blow you. You tell the suckers you're trying to get back to dear old Mom and Dad in Wisconsin, but the bus fare is twenty, thirty bucks, and you'd do anything to earn it-ha ha. Some like to think you're straight, so they'll ask if you like getting it sucked off by guys. And you say you've fooled around some and it was okay, but you're just doing it for the money. Then they'll offer you the twenty or thirty if they can go down on you."
"Yeah, but you're standing there on the fucking street! Where do you do it?" I demanded.
"Oh, hell, anywhere safe! That porno movie house down the street is good. They can either blow you in the auditorium, if it's not too crowded, or in the men's room. Then there's that hot dog stand next door to it, with the dark room in back with those booths that show fuck movies for a quarter.
You can watch the movie and get sucked at the same time. Then there's glory holes all over the place...."
When I asked what a glory hole was Marty looked at me as though I was mentally retarded, or worse. "Jesus!" he blurted out, shaking his head slowly, "a glory hole is a John where queers hang out, with holes in the walls between the booths to stick your dick through ... don't you know nothing?"
"Not much, I guess," I admitted, embarrassed but fascinated.
"And the important thing to remember is always get the dough first-and never go to a hotel room, or anyplace else you can't run away from fast if the guy turns out to be a real freak."
We talked a few minutes more, and Marty filled me in on his life as a street hustler. During the next few days I thought about it a lot. It didn't sound so terrible, and the more I thought it over, the more determined I became to try it. Not only the money, but also the element of danger and sexuality, appealed to me.
The following night I deliberately hid behind a street light and watched Marty and the other studs at work. He was leaning against a store front, one foot propped up against the building. Pretty soon a businessman type strolled along, stopping and pretending to be windowshopping. It was Marty he was shopping for, of course, and Marty who made the first move: he sauntered over to the man, and they talked for a minute. Then the guy pulled out his wallet and gave Marty some bills, which he stuffed into his pocket. They went into the infamous hot dog stand with its peep shows in the back.
Ten minutes later the John walked out, followed at a discreet distance by Marty, who sat on a stool in front of the stand and ordered a cup of coffee. His trick left in a hurry, not looking back. The whole transaction had taken less than a quarter of an hour, and Marty had presumably made twenty bucks, because he said he never went for less. A dollar a minute wasn't bad!
That Friday night I went into business for myself, and got my first lesson in market analysis-the hard way. I couldn't wait to tell Marty that I was joining the street's meat rack, but he was nowhere in sight, so I decided to earn a few bucks while I waited for him. I stood on the fucking corner for two hours, freezing my butch ass, looking my sexiest in tight faded but not very warm jeans. Not one John cruised me, that I could tell; I couldn't seem to catch anyone's eye. Marty never showed up. He'd made it look so easy!
Saturday night I got a job playing for a stag show at a men's club. It was my first stag party, and I was curious to see what would go on. They had hired some girls to "perform," i.e, strip, and we provided the bumps-and-grinds music. There were four girls, all stark naked, and all mingling and chattering with us backstage before they went on, quite nonchalantly. Of course, we were trying our best to act nonchalant as well, as though we talked to naked women every day of the week. I got an instant and persistent hard-on, even though these girls were pretty tough, well-known whores, with no class whatsoever. Just before they went on, they put a little glue around their nipples and attached the traditional pasties with tassels dangling from them, and G-strings to cover (barely) their pussies. That way, they conformed with the law's definition of minimal decency as opposed to illegal nudity. If the room turned out to be free of undercover cops, they would take it all off for the benefit of the boys who were having their big night out.
I hoped I was in for some sort of big erotic revelation, but it turned out to be pure farce. The audience was bombed out of its collective middle-class skull by the time the girls went on. The sluts pranced around in what might be called dancing, if you felt generous, and sang-off-key-a few dirty songs that most junior high school kids I knew would've been able to top for prurience. The crowd, though, loved it all and bellowed for more-especially after the G-strings and pasties hit the deck and they saw the bare beaver they'd paid for.
Spreading their legs, the ladies bent from their waists and let their tits bounce around for the guys in the front rows. But we were the guys right behind this frowsy chorus line, so all we saw was a comical panorama of assholes and hairy, inverted twats, surrounded by four pairs of fat jiggling ass cheeks. As we exchanged glances, it was all we could do to keep from breaking up and go on playing. Then the girls moved out into the audience and, stopping at each table, spread their legs and held open their cunt lips while the men shoved folded paper money up them. One big blonde with tits that sagged almost as far as her navel was getting the most tips; I couldn't believe how much cash that over-the-hill broad ended up getting deposited in her vagina.
From then on, the scene started to get really raw ... the guys in the first rows began pulling out their hard pricks and wrapping money around them. The smell of cash lured the girls back toward the stage, and they started sucking their appreciative fans off, one after another. From where I was sitting, all I could see was their big asses and the backs of their heads bobbing up and down-it reminded me of a row of suckling calves! The guys made clever jokes as they came, those who could; one groaned, "Stand back, you fuckers-I'm going to blow her head clear through the roof!"
The horny ones in the back who couldn't get any oral attention came up front, too, a few of them whipping out their cocks and jacking off near the girls' faces, while the girls blew their buddies. The girls began straddling the chairs and squatting down onto the men, laughing and joking as they got fucked and applied just the right amount of pressure to bring their tricks off in less than a minute, if possible. These whores knew their business, I must say, and they weren't wasting any time as long as there was a prick or a wallet unmilked in the room.
All the while, we kept up the nauseating stripper-type music we all despised-music to trick by. We hoped for some decent tips on top of our agreed fee, what with all those big spenders out there getting laid.
Somebody dragged out a folding table, and one girl lay on each end, raising her knees and taking on the guys who hadn't been serviced yet or who were willing to try for seconds. Any man who was insecure about his staying power would've felt reassured had he attended this sordid little orgy; I don't think I saw one of the fifty or sixty guys who screwed those sluts last longer than fifty or sixty seconds. Some barely got it inside a mouth or cunt before they shot off. The girls got about as excited as nuns at a Presbyterian church service, cracking jokes with each other and gabbing as they got fucked, just as calmly as if they were under the dryers at a beauty parlor instead of a drunken gangbang.
I could just imagine all of these jerks going home to their wives ... "Did you have a nice time at the party, dear?" ... "Oh, yes, Evelyn-just fine! We played cards and got stinking drunk, and I'm awful tired, so I think I'll go right to sleep, dear."
After the orgy I collected my share of our fee plus a lousy twenty-dollar tip, changed into my hustling outfit, and hit the Tenderloin streets. Marty was back on duty, leaning against the same store front. I told him I wanted to try hustling, but had had miserable luck scoring with a John my first time out. Marty, on the other hand, had already had three tricks and was ready to head home when I appeared. He told me it would be hard to get anybody so late, unless I latched onto a compulsive cocksucker, the type who just had to find one more dick to swing on before he went home from the bars and alleys.
Marty stayed just inside the doorway of the store and I leaned "casually" against the display window, putting my hand into my pocket and pushing my cock around until it made the biggest possible bulge down one leg of my tight jeans. There were plenty of guys walking past, but few of them seemed to give us more than an indifferent glance before going on.
Finally, after about twenty minutes of boredom, I got my first real trick-a butch-looking number, twenty-eight or nine, wearing a lumberman's jacket walked by. He looked like a hustler himself, but he caught my eye, slowed perceptibly, and paused at the corner. Following the scenario Marty had told me about exactly, he began to look aimlessly up and down the street, and wander back toward me. Marty gave me the thumbs-up sign. I strolled closer to the stud John and tried to look preoccupied, playing with my dick through my pocket all the while as it pulsed visibly, letting him check out the merchandise, the new talent on the block.
"Cold out tonight, isn't it?" he said brightly, staring at me, lust written all over his rugged features.
"Sure is," I said nervously.
"I'll say," he said idiotically. "You're kind of young to be out so late, aren't you?"
I shrugged. "I got no place to crash," I lied. "I'm-uh-trying to raise twenty bucks to catch a bus back home."
"Oh, you broke?" He smiled, sure of his prey now.
"Flat broke ... and freezing my cock off," I said, more brazenly.
He looked right at my crotch, running his tongue slowly over his lips, all but telling me he was dying to suck my cock.
"Nice-looking basket you got yourself there," he said, staring at my groin.
"Some people think so," I boasted, really relishing my stud-hustler role now.
"Ever had it blown?"
"Sure, a couple of times."
He raised his eyes to me, hopefully. "Can I suck it for you?"
"I, uh, guess so ... only I really do need that twenty to get home on."
"You a hustler?"
"A what?" I asked, all cherubic innocence.
"Never mind...." He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through its contents. "Twenty, huh?"
"Yeah-twenty." I took a firm stand, refusing to settle for less. If I was going to be a male whore, I might as well not be a cheap one.
He gave me two tens. "Where can we do it?"
I looked around as though undecided. "How about in there?" I suggested, indicating the porno theater. "Ought to be practically deserted right now."
He bought two tickets from the cashier, who looked at us knowingly as we went inside. It was very dark in the sleazy auditorium, but after a moment I could make out a few winos, snoring peacefully. We took seats far down in front where we could make a quick getaway through the fire exit if surprised, and for a minute simply watched the movie-an overweight chick riding some bored-looking guy's huge cock, up and down like a piston, to the accompaniment of raucous disco music. Then I felt my trick's hand on my thigh, sliding quickly toward my crotch. I hoped he wouldn't be pissed because I didn't have a hard-on yet. He put his other arm around my shoulders and my body, if not my prick, stiffened involuntarily ... he began to kiss me on the neck and I went even more rigid. Marty hadn't mentioned that I might be expected to put out like some slut in a drive-in, and, although this guy was attractive enough, I was just too uptight about the whole scene to get into any real lovemaking. The horny fucker stuck his wet tongue into my ear, to try to turn me on, and then-just as I was debating whether to make a run for it with the money in my pocket and my innocence undefiled-he groped my crotch again, mumbling some shit about how he'd just love to get me in bed and have me fuck him up the ass.
He fumbled with my jeans and finally got the zipper open and my cock out, jerking it expertly in his big, sweaty hand and moaning with lust. He got it about half-hard and leaned his head over to take it in his mouth, while he got his own large dick out and started to jack off beside me. His mouth worked on my erection and I had to admit it felt great. I began pumping up into his mouth and throat as he caressed the insides of my thighs, my balls, and what little he could reach of my ass. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and spread it over the head of his own tool as he whacked away on it faster and sucked me even more hungrily. I could feel it coming and pushed myself deep into his throat to make myself shoot ... within a few frantic, hard-breathing seconds I let him have my full load down the hatch, groaning loudly as I came. He continued sucking and licking until it began to hurt, so I pulled my cock out of his mouth and wiped it carefully with my own handkerchief. He sat up and began cleaning up the mess he'd made when most of what he'd shot had dribbled out of his handkerchief and onto his jeans.
I jerked my zipper closed and stood up. As I slid past him, my face burning hot with embarrassment, he patted me on the ass and thanked me hoarsely, his mouth no doubt still full of my semen. I nodded and rushed up the aisle and out of the theater, drained and shaken, but twenty bucks richer ... I was to discover that a lot of Johns thanked me effusively afterward, especially if I had given them an extra-large load to swallow.
Some even tipped me, over and above the price we'd agreed on before we went someplace to do the dirty deed.
When I found Marty I let him have it good, telling him everything that had happened ... he told me I had just found myself a real queer, and said I should have taken the stud to the hot-dog stand, where I could have stayed upright and watched the flick while the John would have had to kneel, so he couldn't hug or kiss me ... "Unless you dug him, man," Marty mocked me. He added that he only took tricks inside the theater early in the evening, when there were more people there, which forced the Johns to just jack you off until you were ready to blast and then get their heads down there quick, just long enough to catch it in their mouths as it flew out.
Okay, I thought, so I still had a lot to learn-but I had made my first twenty dollars selling my body in less than half an hour, even though it had seemed an eternity.
It wasn't long before I became a real whore, taking on all comers and leading a double life-swinging bisexual guy-next-door during the day, street stud at night. When I began hustling I often stood under a hot shower for fifteen or twenty minutes when I got home at night, or rather early in the morning, trying to wash it all off me ... I felt filthy afterward, because on a good night there'd be five or six guys going down on me. Soon, though, I got over being uptight about it and became as amoral as Marty or any of the others.
It wasn't long before I knew every sleazy spot in downtown Frisco where a guy could get sucked off or -rimmed quickly and in relative safety. There wasn't a glory hole I hadn't used-the restrooms of various garages and restaurants, the back alleys, the movies, the peep shows, the front seats of cars parked on side streets, and so on and on.
I became a pretty skillful bullshit artist, making up plausible stories to help the Johns think they were getting a virginal number who was just desperate for cash-or, if they preferred that fantasy, a gay satyr who only did it because he loved having sex with as many males as possible. I even developed a steady clientele-men who would cruise the area looking for me because they'd enjoyed blowing me so much before.
At first it felt great-all those nice, warm, and very eager and appreciative mouths running up and down my swollen shaft until I blew my load down their throats. But, eventually, I found myself becoming like the call girl who's been around too long: I got my cock sucked so often it became downright boring, a purely mechanical function like pissing. Soon it was all just a blur of nameless mouths nursing away on my dick, sucking out my juices to nourish their bizarre thirst. Day by day, trick after trick, I could feel myself growing harder-more callous.
My hustling activities aside, I still fantasized about girls, masturbated often to increasingly wild fantasies, and even got laid a few times when I wasn't working the street. But I hadn't learned much. I still thought the whole point of fucking a female orifice Was the same as scoring with a male John-get it in, get it hard, pump away like mad, and come as quickly as possible. The only refinement I learned was the use of rubbers, because some chicks insisted on them as a birth control device.
One night Walt, the trumpet player in our band, and I picked up these two girls at a high-school dance we'd played for and drove them to a popular make-out spot outside the city, overlooking the bay. My date's name was Hope, and she made it obvious that she hoped she'd get screwed before the night was over.
We kissed and fondled each other for a while. I bent her over so that her elbow was jammed between my thighs, and started rubbing my cock against it through my jeans. Playing the familiar "I'd love to touch your cock but only by accident" game, Hope slid down farther, rubbing her forearm over my bulging basket, and finally got her hand against it. Before she knew what was happening, I had called her bluff by whipping my prick out and pushing it into her hand, while my own fingers shot up under her skirt, over the top edge of her panties, and down to her cunt. Meanwhile, the car started shaking on its shocks as Walt got down to business with his less inhibited date, humping her like mad in the back seat. I was too busy to look around to see what they were up to, but the sound effects told the story eloquently enough.
I usually tried to get my dick inside a girl's hand before I really tried anything sexual on her. I found that if I took it out fast and they grabbed it, the shock gave way to horny curiosity, and they would start rubbing and playing with it ... then it was much easier to get into their pants, because a girl could hardly put on the innocent virgin act once she'd grasped a guy's hard, bare cock in her greedy hand. But Hope was no challenge whatsoever-she had wanted to get fucked from the minute I'd picked her up at that stupid dance, and, besides, she was more than half bombed from the spiked punch. She pulled down her panties and I pulled a condom out of my pocket. When I tried to roll it on over my hard-on, I got the wrong side and it got all fouled up ... by the time I flipped it over and tried to roll it over my prickshaft again, I was so nervous I lost part of my hard-on, so the fucking rubber wouldn't go on at all ... Hope began to giggle-the cunt!-and I started cursing. With all four hands groping at my cock we finally got it up again and the rubber put on it.
I kissed her again while she lay back on the seat. Hope had been around, all right. She wet her fingertips at her mouth and began to frig herself, rubbing up against her hand, to get herself lubricated so it wouldn't hurt when I drove my drill into her. It was the first time I'd watched a girl masturbate, and it really turned me on. When she was wet and ready she seized my cock with one hand, pushed on my ass with the other, and I entered her quickly and completely. About all I can say for rubbers is that they dull one's sensations somewhat, so I lasted four or five minutes instead of my usual two or three. When I came inside the condom, ballooning its tip out, Hope got wildly excited and begged me to keep it in her, as she pushed her hand down between her legs again. I could feel her rubbing the top of her pussy lips very fast and hard, going like crazy, when suddenly she stopped, arched herself up against me, hips churning, and went rigid all over for a long moment, gasping for breath, ignoring me completely even though my cock was still buried in her spasming cunt, her eyes and mouth wide open. I felt her vaginal muscles contracting around my shaft, forcing it part-way out of her as it started to go soft. Then she went limp beneath me, moaning loudly, as it gradually dawned on me that I'd made her come....
And so had Walt and his date, both of whom were leering down at us over the back of the seat, having long since finished their own fucking to their mutual satisfaction.
I was learning about sex-slowly, step by step, but pleasurably.
CHAPTER FOUR
By the time I started my second semester of college and had my own apartment, I was tired of hustling, at least on the street, so I became a call boy-one point upward on the scale from a street stud. It was simple to establish yourself that way-all I had to do was put a few come-on ads in various underground newspapers, and the fucking telephone started ringing day and night. I charge fifty dollars an hour, minimum, more for anything exotic, and within a few months I had money to burn.
I still did jobs with the jazz bands, or solo, which paid well and was far more pleasurable. Stag parties were always good, although I couldn't see what was so great about them. It always went the same-first the guys would get lit, but good, at the bar, then the projector and screen were set up and a porno movie threaded through the projector, while everybody sat around making nervous, corny jokes. The films were silent, with subtitles or title cards, and then men sat there watching the fucking and sucking and wishing they were alone so they could jerk off, their laughter forced and uptight. Often the audience's desire for titillation was so strong that they'd simply run the projector in reverse for an instant, backwards replay, instead of re-threading the film. Then it really got comical, though the guys didn't care-a cock sawing in and out of a cunt looked thrilling to them even if the come shots were reversed, the sperm flying back into the actor's dick!
Once the films were over and everyone was horny we'd start to play and the girls hired for the occasion made their long-anticipated appearance-any number from three to six or more. The broads started out singing risque songs and dancing a little, with their pastie-covered tits flopping up and down. They got a guaranteed fee drawn from the admission money, plus whatever extra they could get out of the Johns. Any guy who wouldn't wrap at least a five-spot around his hard-on would end up beating his meat himself, because the whores wouldn't touch him for less. With a large crowd a smart, reasonably attractive, hardened whore could take home five or six hundred dollars for her evening's work.
Of course there would always be some smartass motherfucker who would heat up a silver dollar with a match and try to shove it up a girl's cunt and scorch her snatch; but these chicks were wise to such tricks and would back off and touch the coin first, to be sure they didn't get a pussy burn.
One such party ended up pretty wild ... one of the girls was lying on a table in a corner of the room with a long line of Johns waiting for her. The guy whose turn it was would unzip his fly and she would throw her legs over his shoulders as he slipped it in and started fucking her drunkenly. Other Johns would be standing all around the table, watching, throwing cash at her ... she had her head turned to one side and was sucking and deep-throating one bastard while seven or eight others masturbated on her-and when they were through, others took their places at the table's edges. I thought the whore was going to drown in come-she had it dripping off her breasts and thighs, covering her face, running off her in gooey pools. Both of her hands grasped crumbled paper money, but she still used one to jack off a third John and ran the other in big circles over her naked body, spreading the semen around as though it were cold cream and good for her skin.
I walked over during a break-we were expected to play music during this gross orgying!-and watched, fascinated despite a certain disgust. As she rubbed her hand around, the jism-sticky bills would slip out of her fingers and be plastered to her drenched body. When the John at the head of the table pulled his spent prick out of her and the next one eagerly took his place, I could see a river of creamy white come flowing out of her cunt lips-her ass and the insides of her thighs were slimy with it, and the odor was revoltingly strong. A john standing by her head let go with a load that must've blinded her as it whacked into her eyes and wet the prick of the guy she was blowing at the time. On the other side of the room, the men had collected a cash bonus to entice two of the girls to make love to each other, and they were busy on the floor, moaning and thrashing about in feigned passion while sucking each other's cunts. The other three sluts were being more conventional, simply wandering around the room doing all the fucking and sucking they could get money for.
It should've turned me on, the sheer gross animal sexuality of it all, but it didn't ... I was only too glad to collect my own fee and go home.
That night I examined my bank book and the combination-lock box, hidden behind a loosened wallboard in my bathroom, in which I kept my profits from hustling-just in case the I.R.S. ever got curious. Although I liked making money by both fair means and foul, I had never bothered to add it all up-when I needed money for clothes or tuition or rent, I just took it from the box. It took me twenty minutes to sort and count the paper money in the box. Altogether, there was ten thousand, seven hundred and eighty-five bucks, plus another two thousand in my bank account. I was amazed-dumbfounded-that a guy could earn so much selling his cock! I knew that I'd blown several thousand in the past couple of years ... talk about learning a profitable trade! Trade-rough trade-was what was profitable, at least in a wide-open city like San Francisco, where half the population seemed to be gay!
After two years doing it, though, I was beginning to wonder whether I ought not retire as a hustler while I was still young and fresh and the Johns really dug me. I'd seen some guys on the street in their late twenties, their thirties, even, still trying to act eighteen and get picked up for profit. They were pathetic and I didn't want to end up like that. Maybe it was time to stop letting my whole life revolve around sex and devote more time and effort to school.
My sexual fantasies, fed by my recent experiences, got wilder, and I'd daydream about gangbangs and orgies with three or four women and a couple of bisexual studs, all servicing me ... I still hadn't learned much about women. By then I had made it with about twenty, but whenever I was with a chick, the excitement of actually being naked and in bed with her and being inside her pussy was too much for me ... no matter how hard I tried to hold out, my young, horny, overeager cock would go off with a liquid bang after the first minute or two of fucking.
Until I got lucky and met Maureen.
The band was hired for a fashion show in a large, enclosed shopping mall. We played the trashy tunes considered de rigeur at fashion shows and beauty contests, as the models emerged from a striped tent used as a dressing area and walked around the mall, pausing now and then to pose and turn around for the buyers, photographers, and gaping shoppers, and then heading back inside the tent to change into the next creation.
She had shown several outfits before I noticed her, or, rather, noticed her noticing me every time she passed the band-a girl about twenty-five, tall and thin to the point of emaciation, like all professional models, of course, with a boyish ass and breasts I could only guess at under the tweed jacket she was wearing when I took my first real look at her and our gazes met and locked. She smiled right at me, a message of warmth that made me tingle inside for no good reason-she really wasn't my type of cunt, because I liked the big-breasted, earth-mother kind, just as I preferred my male tricks utterly masculine, at least until we hit the sack. Each time this girl passed me, we exchanged glances for an instant, no matter how briefly. I got as hard as a rock and had trouble concentrating on my other instrument.
After the show the predictable confusion reigned, as we began tearing down our setup and trucks were parked at the nearest exit to load the clothes and dismantled tent into. People were running back and forth, taking down the lights and loudspeakers, and the designers-all effeminate, over-dressed gay men, of course-were bitching to the models to hurry up and hand over the precious glad rags. We loaded our van, and I started to get in when I heard a honk from a tiny MG convertible parked in front of us a few cars down. The girl from the fashion show was turning around in the driver's seat, gesturing to me. I went over to her car, not sure what to say or do.
She leaned over and opened the low-cut passenger door. "Get in," was all she said.
I had no idea what was going to come down, but I waved so long to the other guys, who looked envious and/or amused at my being picked up by a chick for a change, and waved back. As I climbed down awkwardly into the bucket seat beside her, she threw the car into gear and tore off like mad.
It was a strange ride. I made several attempts to speak to her, but there was too much noise from traffic, the wind, and our own engine to do more than turn and smile at each other from time to time. She was even sexier close up than she had been on the walkway. When we got into an expensive part of town, she pulled hard over to the curb and cut the engine, then threw her arm languidly over the back of my seat and announced, "I'm Maureen, and I live here."
I was blushing. "I'm Gordy-and I really don't know what else to say."
"Then why say anything? You never have to make conversation with me if you don't want to-I mean, you never have to say anything if it makes you uncomfortable." She grabbed her handbag and we got out of the car.
Her apartment was large and, to my eyes, luxurious. But I didn't have much of a chance to look it over, because Maureen immediately got down to brass tacks. "Want to know why I picked you up at the show?" she asked brightly as soon as we were in her living room. "Sure."
"I'm what's known as an easy lady," she all but boasted, as though it were something to be proud about. "What I want, I take, and fuck what anybody else thinks ... and the minute I saw you, I wanted you. In bed." She paused. "Does that shock you?"
"No," I boasted right back. "It's happened to me before."
That made her laugh. "Good. Say-how old are you? Sixteen?"
I was feeling a little, but only a little, more comfortable in her company. "No, I'm afraid I'm an old degenerate of eighteen," I admitted. I figured she was going to find out how shitty I was in bed anyway, so if I was too young for her, we might as well decide that now, before we got into anything rash together.
My age didn't seem to affect her one way or the other-she only nodded, thoughtfully, her eyes scrutinizing my face.
I explained to her how I happened to be a musician.
"Would you like to take a shower?" she suggested sexily.
"Yeah, I do feel pretty raunchy."
"So do I-that show was a royal pain in the ass!" She took my hand and led me into the bedroom, pulled off her sweater and, folding it neatly, put it away in her dresser drawer. Without even looking at me, this complete stranger then unhooked her brassiere and took it off as well, depositing it in another drawer as she casually talked about some of the hassles that had come up during the fashion show. She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, hanging it in the closet before she noticed me staring at her.
Her breasts weren't huge, but she was far from flat-chested, as some of the other models had been. Her boobs swelled out gracefully, tipped with small, dark red nipples.
I was getting a hard-on.
"Why aren't you getting undressed?" she asked.
"Uh," I responded numbly.
Coming over to me, she unbuttoned my shirt for me, then moved away and stepped out of her half-slip, sitting on the edge of the bed to unroll her stockings down her long, shapely legs. She stood again to get out of the panty girdle she was wearing. The hair between her legs was a lighter brown than that on her head, almost blonde, and her ass was small but ripely rounded, firm and athletic-looking.
Fuck it, I decided ... if she could strip so nonchalantly in front of me, I could too. Trying to act as though I got into this sort of easy fuck all the time, I took all my clothes off. My prick stood out throbbingly in front of me and I tried to act blase about it and ignore it.
Maureen didn't bother to conceal her interest in my manhood, though. "You've got one hell of a hard-on there," she observed accurately, smiling lewdly.
"I can't help it-you're very beautiful.
"Your body's beautiful too-your ass and cock and balls." It was the first time I had heard a woman with any sort of class use such language, so unselfconsciously. She took me down a hall and into a huge bathroom, and turned on the shower to warm up the water. Then we got into the stall together and she began to wash me with a bar of scented soap.
It was the first time I'd taken a shower with a woman. We rubbed each other's nude bodies all over with the sensuously, musky-smelling lather, touching and exploring gently. She scrubbed my genitals and reached around to do my ass, sliding her fingers into the crack and sending little shock waves of lustful sensation through me. I was roaringly erect, and when I felt her soapy fingers massaging my asshole I thought I would lose my load right down the drain then and there.
I soaped her breasts, belly, and pubic hair, letting her fingers guide my hand down to her cunt, and then still further down to her ass, as she bowed her legs and parted them so I could reach every part of her anatomy. She slipped into my arms and, slippery with suds, we rubbed our bodies together in a slow, side-to-side motion, writhing, moaning softly as we both got excited by this sex play. It was a tremendously erotic feeling, embracing with the warm water gushing down over us. She finally turned around and backed up against me, and with her soap-slippery backside against my prick I caressed her breasts and cunt, trying to squat down and thrust my dick into her from behind. But she turned around again, put her mouth to my ear, and whispered. "No-I'll tell you when."
She was teaching me, I realized with a slight shock. She was taking a dumb punk who really knew nothing about heterosexual lovemaking, for all his experience as a whore, and she was going to teach him everything about it. I found the prospect a little kinky, but I also knew that I'd never find such a lovely, sensuous, obviously uninhibited instructor again ... I told myself not to fight her, but to be patient and learn all I could. Of the very few smart things I'd done in my life up until then, that had to be the smartest.
I was very curious about her, but as we dried off and got into bed Maureen answered most of my questions evasively. She was twenty-four and had lived in Frisco for three years, after attending a famous modeling school in New York and getting her first big breaks into the field there. She didn't want to talk about her family, and, as far as her personal life was concerned, it began for me when we'd met.
"You'll learn about me little by little," she said mockingly. "That way you won't get so bored and we'll enjoy each other a lot more."
We slid between satin sheets, of all things, the feel of them on my naked body soothing yet erotically stimulating. If I was going to be picked up and kept by a woman, this was the woman I wanted to be seduced by. My cock was so hard it hurt: I had never wanted to fuck anybody as urgently as I wanted to screw Maureen. It was just like my very first time-I desperately wanted to do it, but I was also so anxious about performing well that I was afraid I'd blow my wad the second she touched me intimately.
I started to pull her into my arms but she stopped me. "No, you're tired," she insisted. "Just let me hold you." She crawled my head against her breast.
"I'm not that fucking tired," I protested, moving my head to nuzzle her breast and suck on her nipple.
Immediately I felt her hand on my forehead, gently pushing me away. "It's okay, baby-it's okay. You don't have to rush it or prove anything to me. I'll be here for you all night if you want me ... I want to hold you and make love to you all night long, and I don't want anything in return-yet. Just let me enjoy your body, just let me make love to you...."
The rest of the night was like every adolescent wet dream I'd ever had all rolled into one, but infinitely better. "Lie still, darling," she moaned, caressing me lightly but effectively. "I'm going to suck you all night long-so just lie still and enjoy it."
I relaxed, feeling her warm wet lips encircling the head of my cock, then sliding down lewdly to the very base of the shaft, taking every inch of my hard-on inside her mouth. Her tongue licked slowly back and forth across my prickshaft, and rubbed its wet back up toward the tip. Then I felt the bed move as she shifted her position to lie between my legs, the length of her nude body resting on top of them, her breasts pressing into my thighs. I felt a warm tingle go through my swollen balls as her mouth engulfed them, kissing and sucking on them ... her tongue moved up and down my cock again as her hand grasped it around the base and squeezed gently, sending tremors of pure lust through me.
Her oral movements weren't at all fast and frantic like the Johns who had blown me, or the few other women I'd been able to talk into giving me head. She was slow, deliberate, tender, appreciative ... but finally her luscious mouth settled down over my cockshaft and began a firmer up-and-down pumping. She was sucking me in earnest, trying to bring me off in her mouth, to drink my hot sperm.
My hands went down to caress her hair as she rolled her lewd tongue all over the sensitive head of my dick. It was too fucking much! I was just too horny! I arched my back involuntarily, ass cheeks clenched, and shot. She took the first couple of spurts in her mouth, then pulled away so that some of my come went all over her lips and face. Groaning, she sucked the head of my exploding tool back into her mouth and went down on it completely again, staying there as I shot and shot, swallowing it all ... when I had stopped ejaculating, she began sliding her mouth up and down on my cock again, but very lightly, so as not to hurt me; and as my cock went soft between her lips she tongued it lasciviously, refusing to let it go.
Time passed. I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was vaguely aware that she was sucking me hard again and then giving me another slow, voluptuous blow job as I moaned and squirmed under her and my cock pulsed violently in her mouth and throat. When I came this time, she pulled her mouth off quickly and pushed my prick back toward my chest, so that my semen splattered all over my belly and pecs-and Maureen licked my balls as I shot onto myself. I felt her slide up a bit, and then her ravenous lips and tongue were moving all over my torso as she eagerly licked up all the puddles of come on me.
Jesus Christ, what a fucking nympho! I thought dazedly, fucked out and freaked out by her insatiable oral drive. I dropped back to sleep almost at once, but I felt her take my limp, drained organ once more into her mouth, moving her tongue over it lightly from time to time....
I woke up the next morning to find her going down on me again. She had a real oral obsession!
"Lie still," she gasped when I started to move, "and let me suck you off again!"
Oh Christ! I thought. I didn't know if I could take much more of this sweet torture! I felt her mouth working on me, slow and loving and incredibly expert, her lips sliding wetly up and down my soft cock, coaxing back its rigidity, her fingertips tickling my balls. When I came she moved back her head a bit, put out her tongue, and we both watched my semen squirting into her mouth, dribbling out the corners where it had almost missed. Again she put her mouth over my cock as it deflated, keeping it inside for a while, barely sucking and licking, making me shiver with helpless response.
"The whole night-all this-it's just like a dream," I told her. Indeed, I wasn't sure it hadn't all just been an especially vivid masturbation fantasy and that I soon wouldn't really wake up, to find myself alone in bed at home.
Maureen crawled up next to me, took my head in her hands, and kissed me. Our mouths opened and I felt her tongue pushing my semen into me for me to taste. It was a tremendously erotic feeling-the two of us sharing my come.
At last she let me hold her, both of us quiet. "Did you like last night?" she asked softly.
"It was the greatest night I've ever had"-and I meant it.
"It gave me a lot of pleasure, sucking you. I'm a very oral person. I think most women could be, but they're afraid of their oral nature-they smother it under a lot of shame and inhibition and end up cheating themselves. I love having a man's prick in my mouth ... the feel of it, on my lips and tongue; it gets so hard, but the skin stays nice and soft.
And I love to feel it come, to have it swelling and bursting inside my mouth, filling me with that sperm. My mouth and tongue are really more sensitive than my vagina-I can feel a cock much better when it's fucking my throat." She freaked me out; I couldn't believe this beautiful, sexy chick was talking to me like that!
"And it satisfies me," she added thoughtfully. "Most women think they're 'sexually fulfilled' only if they have a big orgasm ... but I get off on every part of a sexual act."
"So do I," I hinted, "but I still haven't really made love to you-fucked you, I mean."
"Glad you mentioned it, Gordy. One of the most important things you'll ever learn about women is when not to screw them. It's the one thing that fucks up a lot of marriages and relationships that could've been fabulous otherwise-this crap about an oversexed man who has to get screwed right away or he'll die from an overdose of his own come." She saw the disappointment on my face and laughed, hugging me. "Oh, don't worry, darling-that'll come, too. And soon. Don't you worry one bit. I'll teach you how to fuck, too ... I'll teach you everything-well-I'll teach you well-"
CHAPTER FIVE
We slept peacefully in each other's arms. My hormones had quieted down, and I was more than content to just hold Maureen, to feel her warm, naked body pressed so intimately next to mine-her fragrance, the soft, natural scent of clean, freshly scrubbed skin. Eventually, I turned over, and in her sleep she fit herself into the curve of my back, her arms thrown across my side.
I woke up to Maureen lightly kissing me-featherweight touches of her soft lips on my eyes, my forehead, cheeks, mouth, chin, throat, shoulders, and chest ... I opened my eyes slowly, almost thinking it had to be a wet dream, then, realizing that it was morning and it was actually happening to me, reveling in the teasing rustle of her hair on my face as she moved her head over mine to kiss me everywhere.
We had coffee and orange juice, took our shower together-not without some groping and grab-assing and laughing-and I shaved. When I came into the living room, Maureen was lying on the sofa, reading the morning newspaper that had been delivered-stark naked.
I sat down next to her and we kissed-tenderly at first, but then with rapidly building passion. I ran my tongue quickly in and out of her luscious mouth, around and around inside it and over her parted, gasping lips, as I had learned from some panting, groupie-type teenaged slut a couple of years before. Maureen pulled back her head in mid-kiss and looked at me quizzically for a long moment, amusement in her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Kissing you-what the fuck did you think it was?!" I retorted breathlessly.
"Mauling my mouth is more like it! Come here-I'll show you how to kiss a woman if you really want to turn her on. Take my face in your hands," she said softly, the teasing tone gone from her voice as she leaned toward me.
I did. "Heaven to touch...." That cliche fitted her to perfection.
"Now," she whispered earthily, "just do what I do. I'll do it first and then you do it, and then we'll do it together."
Her lips took my lower lip very gently between them and pulled it outward toward the interior of her mouth ... then she broke the contact, but immediately moved her mouth back to the corner of my lower lip and pulled on it again ... next, with my mouth open, she ran just the tip of her tongue slowly around the inside of my upper and lower lips. Fitting her mouth to mine, she inserted her tongue on top of mine inside my mouth. Slowly at first, then with quickening eagerness and desire, she started moving her tongue around, always very carefully, aiming it accurately, pushing it in and out-then, with a groan of pleasure, far into my mouth-and I sucked hard on it to pull it further in. I then reciprocated, doing everything to her that she had just done to me, fighting my urge to push her down flat on the sofa and screw her right then. When I put my tongue inside her mouth she sucked on it so passionately that it became painful at the base ... by this time we were both breathing heavily and turned on. I had a roaring erection, but Maureen chose to ignore it. She ran her wet tongue around the outsides of my lips, on over the skin around my mouth, licking my cheeks, my nose, my ears, my neck-and I did the same to her. Then I knew why animals like to lick one another-it's a marvelously sensual feeling.
I ran one hand over her bare breast, then down across her belly and between her legs. I knew I was supposed to feel for her clit, but all of those damn folds of skin got in the way, and I just couldn't seem to find the fucking thing that all the sex magazines seemed to make such a big deal out of!
Breathing hard, Maureen broke our kiss. "Watch," she panted, as she slid down on the sofa and spread her legs wide. "Put your head down next to my cunt and watch me...."
That sounded pretty good to me, and I quickly obeyed, staring right up into her relaxed and open cunt lips. She ran one hand over her belly, pushing hard on the hairy mound of her pussy; the other hand caressed her breasts in slow circular motions, taking the nipples between her thumb and index fingers and pulling on them until they were swollen and tender-looking, flushed a warm dark red and standing out high and stiff from her breasts. Then Maureen put both hands down between her parted legs. With two fingers of one hand she spread her cunt wide open and displayed the incredibly erotic, glistening-wet scarlet flesh normally hidden away between and behind the thick fleshy cunt lips. With the index and middle fingers of her other hand, she found a fold of skin just where her cunt lips joined at the top, and started a slow, up-and-down massaging motion that evidently excited her, because her breasts rose and fell more rapidly, her breathing got louder at once, and her nipples swelled out even larger and firmer.
"Here it is-my hot, hard clitty-right here-see it?" she gasped, and as her lightly caressing fingertips encircled the little flap of skin I could see the small bump standing out under it-her clitoris. Her motions got faster and more urgent, and I began caressing the insides of her spread thighs with one hand while-I blush to admit-jacking myself off with the other. I couldn't help it-I was just too fucking hot from seeing her masturbate in front of me like that. I had never before had the opportunity to have my face right there between a woman's legs, and to actually watch her play with herself. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. "Oh God!" she shrieked, tensing up all over. "I'm coming! I'm going to! Come! I'm coming!"
Her eyes rolled up in their sockets until the whites showed and her knees jerked open and shut spasmodically as she pumped frantically up against her hands, one on top of the other, both grinding down against her cunt in .fast, hard circles. Then she pressed her knees tightly together, trapping her hands between them, and-with her back arched high off the sofa cushions-she shuddered through her orgasm while I sped up my masturbation and, after a few extra-hard strokes from my fist, shot my come all over her thighs.
With a sigh, Maureen let her whole body go limp again, and she slumped, still trembling uncontrollably and panting wildly for breath, back down onto the cushions. Her hand moved to the puddles of sperm I had splattered all over her body and she rubbed the come over her thighs and tummy and cunt. "See?" she said, smiling. "That clit of mine is just like the launch button for a rocket ... one little push and I just fly off into outer space!"
The whole thing had taken her less than two minutes. Of course, I'd whacked myself off in the same time, but then I'd always heard and believed that it took a woman longer to build up to an orgasm.
After resting for a few minutes we went back into the bedroom and stretched out on the rumpled sheets we'd slept in the night before, and Maureen asked me to make love to her.
"Oh, sure, now you ask me!" I groaned, exasperated. "After I just jerked off like crazy and blasted all over you, and probably won't be able to get it hard again for an hour, you finally ask me to make love to you."
But if I was annoyed, Maureen's eyes were still warm with tolerant amusement. "Is there any law that says you have to have a hard-on to make love?"
I was surprised by the question. "Well, no-I guess. But it usually helps!" Particularly in my line of business! I almost added aloud.
"Come here and kiss me," she asked, pulling me up against her body. My sperm supply felt low and I didn't really feel much like trying for a new hard-on so soon after coming, but we kissed until we were both pantingly aroused again and even my depleted prick began to stir back to life, instead of hanging limp and useless-to my way of thinking, anyway-between my legs. Maureen, however, went on ignoring it.
"Now, make love to me," she whispered huskily, running her moist wriggly tongue into my ear. "Do just like I tell you to do, and make love to my whole body. Stroke my hair lightly-not against the grain, but with it ... now, with just your fingertips, touch my forehead ... oh, yes, it feels good! Wonderful! So sensuous ... my nose ... my cheeks ... my lips ... under my chin, I'm sensitive there-yes, right there, that spot exactly, oh God yes! Now my throat ... along the sides."
I was doing everything she asked, and starting to get into it, to enjoy just touching and exploring her cool skin. "Now," she gasped, "use a little more pressure, darling, on my shoulders. Now my arm-run your fingers around it and slide them-slowly!-all the way down, oh that sends a tingle right up my spine! My hands-feel them, press them-the fingers-the palms-the backs-!
"Slide back up my arm and move down to my breast-slowly, God damn it! All right, that's better, more like it ... no, don't push or pinch-not yet! Just rub gently up and down all over my tits. Around and around ... take my nipple between your fingers and pull it out and play with it, like you saw me do when I made myself come. That's right-feel how big and hard they get? Now lean over and lick my other nipple, get it hard, too ... oh, yes ... just lick it slowly, baby-around and around, oh God I'm getting hot already! Put your mouth right over it and suck it inside! Suck! Oh, suck! Yes! Feel it getting all hard and bumpy and tender ... ohhh, that's sooo nice!"
I felt her hand gently caressing the back of my head as I nursed on her tit.
"Now kiss me under my breast-just where it goes into my ribs. Lick it! Yes, like that! Move your head down, look close and you'll see the fuzz on my tummy. Rub your mouth and your cheeks over it ... Jesus! Put your hands on my sides and stroke them gently, up and down, over my hips ... ahh, it's so fucking nice when you touch me like that, it makes me shiver with the hornies!
"Rub your face over my cunt hair. Feel how soft and curly it is? Kiss my cunt! Yes-slow and easy-just like that, you're getting the idea now! Spread my legs with your hands. Wide! I want you to see everything, all of my juicy cunt, I want you to see how hot and wet it's getting for you. Feel them, feel my thighs-ohhhhh!-right up the insides, right up against my cunt lips-that's the most sensitive part of my body, except for my cunt and clit-run your fingers all over me there.
"Take my clit inside your mouth and feel it-suck on it-no, stop, I'm getting too turned on! Just run your hands down my legs, around my knees, use your tongue on the back of my knee. Ahhh ... fuck! Feel my calf, how smooth it is. Lift my leg and take my foot in your hands, rub it gently with your hands, massage it all over. Now, slowly, back up both my legs toward my rear end. Turn me over onto my stomach. Spread my arms out and kiss along them again. Down into my armpits. Lick them. Don't tickle! Now, gently massage my shoulders-oh, that feels so good!
"Kiss my back, right down my spine, then around, where my breast starts to swell out. Back up ... lick me everywhere there! Now, move on down to the small of my back ... next to my cunt, and the insides of my thighs again. Up over my behind with your hands and your mouth ... kiss and lick and suck ... doesn't it taste good? Doesn't it feel nice and sexy? Kiss my ass, darling-sink your teeth into it if you want it-harder, ah God, fuck yes it's turning me on oh no no no too hard, stop, please stop!"
Maureen's voice, soft and dreamy, sounded like an erotic incantation as I did everything she ordered me to willingly, moving and obeying as though in a hypnotic trance, finding all of the secret places on her body that could give her pleasure if they were stimulated-finding considerable pleasure, myself, in exploring them, the scents and tastes and textures of her flesh, as I began to learn just what it could mean to really make love to another person.
"Lick the cheeks of my ass, just where they go into my legs. Ohhh ... now, move up. Lick the base of my spine, just where the crack of my ass begins. I love that! Spread my legs out wider and rub them up and down, a little harder this time. Get rough with me, will you?! Really massage the fuckers ... and my ass cheeks, too. When you pull them apart and then push them back together again, it makes my clit rub against the sheets, too, and I get so hot!
"Run your fingers right through my cunt hair. Up and down, never side to side; that doesn't do anything for me. Yes ... now stick two fingers inside my cunt. I'm going to shove my ass up into the air ... spread the cheeks and lick the crack, lick it, oh God! Rim my ass! Stick your tongue up my asshole! Keep fingering me, keep fingering my pussy! Oh, Christ! Get those fingers up inside my hot cunt! Feel how wet you're making it?! Now put your fingers side by side and spread the lips apart until you can feel a sort of band of muscles tense against them-urrrggghhhhh!-not too deep with those damn fingers!-just a little way inside-now, take your other hand and put your finger about half an inch above the top of my slit and pull gently up toward my belly ... Yes, like that! God, yes! Now, take your tongue out of my ass and get down and lick my cunt! Lick it! Up and down between where your top finger is, and the split at the top of my cunt ... oh God!!"
"There?" I grunted between frantic, wet licks at her flesh.
"Yes! Yes! Shit, yes! Oh, baby-I'm so hot to fuck-lick faster, harder! Don't move! Don't stop! Keep that fucking tongue there, keep licking clit! Lick! Ahhhhh! I'm coming! Coming?"
Maureen gasped and whimpered as her hips squirmed wildly, humping and smearing her orgasm against my pussy-buried face. She jerked and thrashed so violently as her climax peaked deep inside her cunt that my fingers slipped out of place on and in her wet, dripping pussy lips, where she had instructed me to put them; but that obviously didn't matter. I had made her come, all right! She was spasming all over, in an agonizing wave of pleasure! Coming like mad! It was twice as wild as the orgasm she'd given herself with her hands.
"Oh, baby," she moaned as it subsided inside her. "That was so nice! I came like anything! So hard! So long! So much! Look, I'm dripping wet!" She hadn't faked it, that much was for sure. "Oh, thank you-thank you! Please-keep your tongue on my clit? But don't lick it! It's much too sensitive for a while after I have a really good, hard come like that ... just like a guy's prick is sometimes, right after he's shot off."
I kept my tongue poised against her rigid, still-throbbing clitoris. I was wildly aroused myself, but restrained myself, and my hot, moist breath flowed over her clit and cunt lips as they quivered in post-orgasmic flutters. The entire groove between them was sticky wet, as though honey had been poured into it and was oozing slowly out again.
"Roll me onto my back, lover," Maureen told me after a moment's rest. "No, don't lie on top of me, yet ... move off to a side and hug me, so I can talk to you. Let me rub your cock and your belly, your balls, your ass ... your prick's hard again! I can feel it throbbing in my hand! So big-so stiff! God, what a turn-on it is to touch a guy's cock when it's hard!
"I'll put my knees up and spread my legs wide-kiss my cunt-my belly-now get down there again and kiss the insides of my thighs-my clit, just once, lightly-ahhh shit yeah Hove that it feels so horny! It makes my whole pussy tighten up, just as if I already had your cock rammed inside me, fucking me! Fucking me hard, making me cornel You're making me feel so good ... don't worry, baby, soon it'll be your turn to get your jollies, I promise you!
"Put your fingers in my cunt again ... now, bring them up to my mouth, let me suck my own fresh cunt juice off them. It's salty, like vinegar ... more, give me more-rub it on my face-ummm yeah-back inside my mouth-want a taste? Oh, I've got to pump harder; it feels too fucking good when you put your fingers up my cunt! Get them deeper inside my pussy, don't worry, it doesn't hurt, it feels great! Keep spreading my cunt lips ... open and close my cunt for me, rub the lips ... lick faster, use more pressure on my clit, yes, like that. Put your arm under my ass and push my cunt up against your face, hard. Harder-faster, faster! Oh, Jesus! My legs are opening and closing around your head-can't help it-too hot-I'm coming again! Oh, baby you're making me do it again now now now coming right now you prick oh yes! Oh Christ, don't stop! I want more of it-more of you-fuck, oh fuck!
"Quick, move around and lie between my legs! Push them back-way back-until my knees are on my tits-look at my cunt, it's wide open, wide open for you! God, my cunt feels so wet! I can feel my pussy juice dripping out of me, running down over my ass! Look up my cunt. Spread it with your fingers. Kiss it! Kiss my cunt! Get your head down lower and lick my ass! Put your tongue up my asshole, rim me! Oh, God! Fuck it, run your tongue all over my asshole and then ram it up my ass and fuck me, fuck my ass with your tongue!
"Shit-I've got to play with my fucking tits! I wish I had ten, twenty hands so I could feel myself up all over and you too all at once ... just grope us both crazy, that's what I'd fucking do!
"Run your tongue all the way up to my clit and then rub it hard. Yes, like that! Bring it down to my ass again! Ohhhhh! Up to my clit again ... long, wet licks, all the way up and down my cunt and my ass crack ... oh, baby ... it's so good.
"Shove your finger up my hot asshole! Fuck it with your finger! God! Quick, get the fingers of your other hand inside my cunt! Move them in and out, fuck my cunt with your fingers! Oh darling! Jesus! I'm so hot! So horny! You're driving me sooo wild, so wild for sexl Keep doing that and lick my clit as hard as you can. Faster-keep doing that-keep licking I'm going off again! Keep licking and fucking, I'm there here I come!"
Maureen lost all control. She shoved my head down between her upraised, parted thighs, my face tight against her cunt. I had my index finger jammed up her tight, clutching, hot asshole, and two ringers of my other hand buried inside her pussy and pumping in and out as fast and as hard as I could get them to move inside the slippery-wet, convulsing channel. And, all the while, I was licking her clit and sucking on it furiously ... no wonder she came again! When she got close, she bucked so violently that I couldn't keep my finger in her behind; it popped out, but she was beyond the point of caring-shrieking at the top of her lungs, her head rolling from side to side on the mattress, her breasts heaving, her involuntary pumping against my fingers and lips and tongue faster than she could ever have made her lower body move by conscious volition. My entire face was smeared wet with a mixture of her cunt juices and my own drooling saliva. I had had some fleeting mental reservations about licking her asshole, but then I learned that Maureen was fastidious about herself and kept her ass as squeaky clean as her cunt. The taste of her pussy was slightly salty and acidulous, not unpleasant-rather stimulating on the tongue, in fact.
We were both out of breath by the time she stopped coming, and it took us a good ten minutes of just lying there doing nothing, not daring to move, to calm down ... the only thing that wouldn't calm down, though, was my hard-on. My cock had gotten stiff again and it wouldn't quit throbbing and pulsing. I was a bit tired from all my oral activity on and in Maureen's body, but quite proud of myself for having been such a quick study. I had learned so much about female sexual response so soon that it was all pretty much a blur in my brain; I would have to sort it out later. But of one thing I was confident: if I could make an obviously experienced broad like Maureen come repeatedly on my very first try, I had already mastered the essentials of cunnilingus.
I was very lucky. Most men learned a bit here, a bit there, from various sex partners, over a lifetime of trial and error. But I was being systematically and patiently taught it all, by a woman who evidently knew it all. I was grateful to her-and, despite my fatigue, eager for the next lesson.
I looked at Maureen's naked body splayed out obscenely on the bed, her limbs heavy with orgasmic exhaustion, and I decided to forget about the urgent need throbbing restlessly between my legs. It wouldn't kill me if I didn't come for an hour or two. I was learning, all right.
We lay together talking for a while-the aimless, unimportant things two people talk about when they're fucked out for the time being. Soon Maureen fell asleep. I slid out of her arms quietly and sat in the living room, looking through the newspaper. I decided that while Maureen slept would be a good opportunity for me to explore the apartment a bit.
Nothing unusual-books, records, the stuff one would expect to find. I slid open a closet door noiselessly. Inside were two fur coats. Gifts? Payment? If payment, from whom, and for what?! There was also a big cardboard box on the closet floor. I was tempted to open it, but didn't-not out of any moral compunction, needless to say, but simply because I was afraid I might get caught in the act. I didn't want Maureen to know I'd been checking out her personal effects, so I went back to finish reading the paper.
Maureen woke up a few minutes later, yawning loudly, sleepy-eyed and warm, purring like a contented, well-stroked kitten. She'd been wellstroked, of course, in several senses of the word. I got back into the bed with her and we held each other close, not saying much.
"I can still smell myself-my pussy-on you," she remarked matter-of-factly.
"Oh. I'll go wash," I replied, taking it as a tactful hint.
But she stopped me as I began to slide out of the bed. "No, don't. I like to smell it on you. Let it alone."
We went out to lunch. The restaurant was crowded with couples and their small children, shopping in the area; the family next to our table was desperately trying to control three bratty kids, and Maureen stared at them coldly.
"I hate children," she said bitterly.
"Yeah? Why?"
"Because they're so dirty and noisy and selfish, and need so much attention. It must be exhausting to be a full-time mother with several brats, like her. I'm sure it just drains the womanhood right out of you and leaves a tired, bitchy old lady in its place."
"Well, you were a kid once," I laughed, "pissing in your pants and having to be potty trained-"
"I was never a child. Not really," she insisted, blowing a cloud of smoke from her cigarette-she was chain-smoking. "I had to grow up too fast for that shit, thank God! And children always make me nervous. I get uptight just being around them, like now-whining motherfucking brats! Who needs it!"
"But people keep on having them," I observed, would-be philosophically. 'Well, not me!"
"You wouldn't want any of your own? Not ever?"
"Hell, no! Never!" All this suddenly reminded me that I certainly hadn't been doing anything about birth control, and I hoped Maureen was on the Pill or something. Maybe her dislike of children was one reason why she enjoyed all sorts of sexual activity, not just ordinary intercourse. Less danger of impregnation that way. I let the subject drop, however, because she was getting uptight about it. She ordered another martini-her third-and downed it quickly with her meal, her eyes hard and distant. Her strangely emphatic insistence that she hated children gave me some insight into her enigmatic personality-or so, at least, I flattered myself into thinking. I made a mental note to do everything in my power to make sure I didn't knock her up.
Back in the apartment, Maureen went into the bedroom to freshen up and told me to make her yet another drink. I didn't want her to get bombed, so I fixed her a weak martini on ice. She came back into the living room wearing a heady musk perfume I'd never been exposed to before-it preceded her by a yard or two-and a very seductive, clinging silk pants suit with a plunging cleavage. I could feel my balls, undrained since that single jerk-off that morning, twitching even before she got close to me. Her mood had changed again-for the better, I was relieved to see-and she was all good humor and sexiness again. And was I ever ready to take full and unscrupulous advantage of it! I wanted to touch her, to start something, anything, that would get us into bed, but by now I knew that it was always best if I let her take her own sweet time and make the first move on her own.
She didn't keep me waiting long. As she watched television she put her head in my lap, and suddenly I felt my zipper going down. I didn't actually have a hard-on, so my cock was nice and soft as she took it into her mouth. My ramrod started to stir immediatley, bloating and engorging itself, but she kept her mouth down on it, letting it thicken against her tongue and fill her entire mouth ... she sucked me until I had to hold her head still as a signal to her to stop, unless she wanted a mouthful of come, which she very well may have. She let my prick slip out of her wet, clasping lips, slid to the floor, and pulled off my pants as I struggled to get out of my shirt. "It's time," was all she said, and we went into the bedroom.
At last, as we slipped onto the satin sheets, I knew that I was going to get my cock into her cunt and really fuck her. It seemed that I had waited a long time to do it, which made me exceptionally horny. The first time we'd gotten it on together, Maureen had practically made love to me ... the next time, she had shown me how to make oral love to her. This time, though, we'd do it together, to each other-we were really going to ball!
I got to go over all of those intimate parts of her body that I had discovered before-her soft flat belly, the small of her back, behind her knees, her nipples, the insides of her thighs ... meanwhile, Maureen, no longer passively accepting my caresses, was all over me, too, devouring me-rubbing her face in my crotch and ass cheeks, feeling my arms and legs, sucking my cock for a few thrilling minutes only to stop it and rub my balls before licking the head of my hard-on again, tantalizingly. I felt ready to pop my nuts any second, and hadn't even put my prick into her pussy yet.
She rolled onto her back and brought her legs up to open her cunt again. "Suck my cunt for a minute, baby-that way it won't make as much friction on your dick when you shove it in me," she begged. "Just enough to make my pussy good and slippery!"
Her entire body smelled of musk. I put my head down between her thighs and licked her cunt lips and clit, until she began to moan and hump up against my face ... then I went lower and inside her cunt with my tongue, spreading the thick lips with my fingers and driving my tongue in and out, leaking as much saliva into it as I could, until she was thoroughly lubricated.
"Now, baby, now!" she moaned. "Come to mama and fuck her good!"
With my chin and cheeks smeared by her juices, I climbed up between her legs, eagerly positioning myself on top of her and getting ready to ram my cock deep into her-but she stopped me, holding my chest. "Just put the tip in-just the head, first," she whispered heatedly.
Tilting my body slightly to one side so I could look down and see what I was doing, I slid my bloated cockhead between her labia as she pulled up her knees in order to open her box as wide as possible for me. I watched the end of my tool disappear between her wet cunt lips. Her pussy was extremely wet and hot, so the sensation wasn't particularly intense yet-it was like shoving my cock against a soapy sponge in the shower, closing the sponge around it like a thick, loose wet glove. I could see her hairy lips open still wider to take me between them.
"Ah!" she groaned pleasurably. "Now come up on me!" She seized me behind the arms and pulled me down on her body, against her breasts, easing her legs back down to the mattress as she did so ... this way, my cock was aimed almost straight down between her thighs; it felt as though it would buckle or break off! "Now rub it in and out of me slowly, just the head of it, lover-that's right-Oh Christ! So horny! So hot for that cockl See?-this way, you're rubbing it right against my hot, hard clit; it's just like being jerked off and fucked at the same time for me-so good!"
She wrapped her arms around me, her hands running up and down my back, stroking my hair, sliding down to my ass-pushing and guiding me. "Faster!" she panted eagerly. "As fast as you can! Fuck me, oh fuck me now!"
Using the same basic movement, I started really hammering in and out of her, like a rattling machine gun, and I made the startling (to me, anyway) discovery that I'm sure she wanted me to make-that the faster I pumped, the less I could feel. I seemed to be just on the brink of ejaculation, but in no danger of actually coming, so I could last forever! The lips of her pussy were so squishy, slippery-wet by this time that I felt almost no friction against my prickhead at all. The position wasn't too comfortable, but it was still a real turn-on to be humping her juicy cunt like that, evidently driving her wild with lust. I wanted to bury myself deeper in her, of course, but when I started to push my cock into her mushy slot she gasped, "No! Not yet! Not yet!"
So I resigned myself to this bizarre stamina test ... but, if I wasn't feeling much direct stimulation, fucking her this way, Maureen was feeling enough for both of us! She kept her knees low on the bed, so that my cock maintained maximum contact with her clitoris. By riding her this high, not only did I have continual contact with her most sensitive genital area, but each time the head of my dick-driving only very shallowly between her cunt lips-went in or out, it opened and closed her lips a little, tugging even harder on her hot little passion bud.
When her panting became broken and desperate-sounding, huge frantic gulps of air, I knew she was ready to come. Within seconds, an orgasm welled up visibly within her writhing, sweating body. "Now!" she cried. "Fuck me now!"
She didn't wait for me to obey, but grabbed my buttocks with both hands and literally forced my cock all the way inside her horny, climaxing cunt, screaming with lustful satisfaction as it sank into her to the balls and she instinctively brought her legs back up and locked them around my waist to keep my dick inside her as she humped wildly against it!
The sudden, total plunge into her hot wet pussy, after holding myself back all that time, was indescribably exciting. I wanted to come, to fuck her hard and fast and brutally and blast my full load into her. At this point it was a simple, overwhelming, animal instinct, a primeval urge to rut. But-even in the throes of her orgasm-Maureen maintained some degree of self-control, for the sake of teaching me some more of the finer points of fucking: she kept her arms locked tightly around my back and held me still. "Pump with me, not against me!" she instructed me in a hoarse, breathless gurgle as she went right on coming. "Fuck me when I fuck you!"
I tried my best to match my thrusts with the convulsive gripping pressure and relaxation of her orgasming vaginal muscles ... it wasn't too difficult; with her legs around my waist and her arms hugging me so tightly, I couldn't pump hard anyway. She held me against her so that my body had to move along with hers as she spasmed repeatedly, and with her legs thrown back like that I could feel my cockshaft rubbing hard against her cervix and clit ... after Maureen had humped and gasped her way through what seemed to me like an unusually long, hard orgasm for her, she lay still for a second, then shuddered all over as the aftershocks of her earthquake-like come hit her, I was still breathing hard and sweating like a pig when I felt her arms and legs relax their grip on me. She smiled up at me. "See? It's not so hard, is it?"
"It's about as hard as it could get," I retorted, rotating my ass so that she could feel just how rigid my prick still was inside her.
Maureen laughed, more relaxed now, almost as though we were having a casual conversation instead of fucking. I glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed. I had been in her for about ten minutes-the longest I had ever screwed a woman. And for the first time, I had made a woman come with my cock-or, rather, Maureen had taught me how to last long enough to let her climax.
"Now, just lie still ... lie still with your cock buried deep in me. Did it feel good, baby?" she asked.
It was difficult not to move at all, lying there next to her-inside her; I had to fight the urge to pump and make myself shoot. "It felt great ... especially when you came with my cock inside you," I admitted.
"I'm glad you can get satisfaction from pleasing a woman," she whispered. "When you get as much satisfaction from that as you can from getting off yourself, then you're a real lover, not just a horny stud who can keep it hard and fuck."
"I've got to admit, though, that I wouldn't mind coming right about now," I hinted.
"The trick is that it should feel good for you, but not too good-not so good that you'll come before you want to," she went on, ignoring the hint. It felt weird lying there on top of her, our bodies joined so intimately, carrying on a conversation about sexual techniques instead of just doing it. But I was beginning to enjoy it, despite my horny impatience to get my rocks off.
"A lot of men try to hold out by thinking about something else," Maureen laughed. "Some doctors who treat sex problems, like premature ejaculation, even encourage them to do that ... but I think it's ridiculous and insulting to be screwed by a man whose mind is on work, or a football score, or anything except you and him in bed together, making love. Men just cheat themselves that way, and they cheat the woman too, because if some guy's shoving his prick in and out but really thinking about how much he hates his boss or something, then he's not really there, mentally, at all-and the woman can always tell.
"If he's that preoccupied he's not making love at all, and the woman might as well fuck herself with a dildo as with that guy's dick, because neither of them has any emotion attached to it.
"I'll teach you how to keep fucking from feeling so good that it makes you have to shoot when you don't want to yet," she promised wantonly, caressing my back and ass, "but just so you'll have that choice from now on ... I don't want you ever to be thinking about other things while you're fucking me, because if you do, you'll get so uptight about performing you won't be able to get an erection at all."
"Ha," I protested, but I knew she had a point.
"No, really ... I want you to enjoy our sex and keep all your feelings and emotions involved in it."
"Did you enjoy it, just now?" I asked. "All that rubbing, without really going in your cunt all the way and fucking flat out?"
"Well, I came, of course. But I didn't get into it as much as I might have, because I was busy thinking about what you were doing...."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." She kissed me on the cheek. "I wanted to do it that way. And I'll keep on doing it slow and careful until you know everything I know about fucking, and then you'll just naturally start to take over, and I'll start really enjoying it the way I usually do. But I'm not going to rush it, not when you have so much sexual potential ... I like to think that my 'graduates' are the best lovers in the world."
"What do you mean-your 'graduates'?" I demanded.
"All this sexy talk is making me horny again," she said, pointedly changing the subject. "Why don't you just close your eyes and rest on top of me, on my big tits, until your hard-on gets soft about halfway?" she asked, turning my head to rest it on her shoulder and breast. I could feel myself going down a bit. "Stay in me all the way this time," she whispered, "but don't pump against me at all yet."
She began moving her body up against mine very slowly and deliberately. "Get up high on me again, but not as much as last time-face to face with me, so we can kiss. Now bear down, so that your dick rubs against my clit. Move with me-up and down, up and down. We're fucking! Can't you feel it-my cunt moving right along with your cock?! When you move the same way I do, I can get enough friction against my clit to come like crazy, a couple of times at least, and better yet, I can feel your cock in me, all the way-filling me up completely."
She started to hump, very slowly and erotically, savoring every twinge of pleasure, and I moved with her, my cock stiffening again inside her cunt. "Rest your weight on your elbows," she advised, gasping. "When I want to feel your body just crushing mine, I'll pull you down on me and you'll know I'm so hot I'll do anything. If you have to shoot, just do it and enjoy it. You won't get me pregnant."
That was a relief. I wanted to ask her why not, what method of birth control she used, but it seemed a tactless thing to discuss at the moment. When she started to fuck up against me I forgot all that shit and just concentrated on staying hard and moving with her ... I could feel myself growing hard and horny again inside her clasping pussy and I pushed in as far as I could, pressing the shaft of my prick, at its very base, against the top of her cunt slit and her clit. Maureen knew what she was talking about, all right-as usual. Our tongues found each other as she pumped against me harder and faster, losing control. I could feel just the slightest bit of slipping in and out of her out of sync, because our motions couldn't be matched precisely all the time; but the slight unpredictability made my cockshaft tug on her clitoris from time to time, and she began to pant with lust. I could feel her getting wetter again as our fucking motions made lurid little squishing sounds.
"Move in and out a little more," she moaned. "Long-dick me! Give me more of your cock each time you shove it into my cunt!"
I did, and it worked perfectly ... the juicier she got, the less I could feel, actually. I experimented with lengthening my strokes until it felt so good I wanted to come, then I shortened my thrusts again to delay my ejaculation. Her panting started to get very uneven and laborious-sounding under me, and I knew she was on the threshold of orgasm again.
"Fast now-fast and hard against me!" she cried. I started going in and out of her cunt like a jackhammer, as I had done the first time, and it worked wonders again ... actually, my prickshaft was only sliding wetly back and forth no more than an inch or two, but I was moving it so fast my nerve impulses couldn't seem to catch up and make me hot enough to come.
Not Maureen, though. Her cunt constricted, then spasmed wildly and repeatedly around my pistoning shaft, and she came with a cry of delight. "Don't stop! Christ, no, don't stop now! Fuck! Fuck me! God, keep doing that, I'm coming, coming! Put your hands here-under my shoulders-and shake me, fast! Fast! Hard!"
I'd never heard of this particular trick, which sounded pretty far-out to me; but I shook her upper torso against me and the mattress as violently as I could, making Maureen's breasts jiggle and her head fly back and forth, her hair flailing the air ... her head rocked up and down off the pillows like a sexy piston, her eyes open and rolling and wild with lust, seeing nothing as her body felt the full force of the orgasm, her tongue lolling from her mouth ... she screamed and groaned, sucking in her breath, and seemed to be having another, even more powerful, orgasm right on top of the first!
"God-now!" she shrieked hoarsely. "Now, baby! Come in me if you can! Shoot, oh shoot! Gimme your load! Your come! Oh, hurry, baby-hurry up and come in me!"
Excited beyond anything I had ever experienced, I gave a few of those long hard strokes I had been practicing and treated myself quickly to the orgasm I had been denying myself so long-moaning and crying out wildly as I felt my prick twitch and throb violently and my hot wet sperm blast free, easing the horny pressure inside my body at last. I filled her with my come. Maureen's hands were clenched tightly around the cheeks of my pumping ass, pushing my cock in and out of her as she came, and just as my semen started to spurt out into her, I felt one of her fingers slip into my asshole, tickling hard ... it was like a kick in the balls, making me come twice as hard and much as usual. The long holding back had heightened the intensity of my ejaculation, and the more I came, the more Maureen seemed to come with me.
When I had no more sperm to give her cunt I collapsed onto her body, drained, exhausted-but those hands of hers kept kneading my buttocks, my cock moving sluggishly inside her incredibly warm, wet, mushy cunt.
"Keep going for a while," she panted. "It'll make us both feel even better!" Again, she was right ... as I kept pumping slowly for a minute or two, I felt several more acute surges of pleasure inside my cock and balls, and I could feel Maureen's vagina muscles quiver again from several aftershocks until it finally spent itself completely and quieted down.
I glanced once more at the alarm clock ... I had been inside her, fucking her, for more than half an hour!
CHAPTER SIX
We lay there intertwined, and Maureen talked to me about her philosophy of free love.
"How many men have you slept with?" I asked. I was curious-also stupid; I felt her grip on me go cold.
"Enough, I guess," she said drily. I could sense her determination to put no inflection or emotion into the reply.
Then, as though forcing herself to forget about my dumb question, she began sucking me again, turning her body so that I could go down on her at the same time. We sixty-nined, lying on our sides ... it had been less than half an hour since I'd shot, and I didn't think I was ready to come again just yet.
Maureen thought differently. When she had sucked me back to erection she pulled her lips off my prick and told me she wanted me to put it into her again. She turned over onto her back and put her knees all the way back up to her breasts, thus bringing her cunt, which was wet and slippery from my licking it, against my groin. She instructed me to stay on my knees between her legs and lean over her, but not too far. Then she took my cock in her hand, bent it slightly, and stuffed it into her pussy inch by inch, groaning at the feeling.
"Now," she breathed, "you can do whatever you want, but keep your cock in me pretty much all the way so it won't slip out-and rub my clit every time you pump it into me and I fuck back."
I pumped hard and furiously for some time, hitting Maureen's rigid clit each time I pushed into her, and she fucked against me, putting her legs up over my shoulders to make sure I wouldn't slide out of her slippery trough. This was the most excited I had yet seen her-crying out, sucking in deep gasps, clawing the sheets with her hands, raking my back with her nails. When she came she lost control altogether, screaming and squirming, and I got so excited by her wild orgasmic responses that I fucked her twice as hard as before-which turned her on still more and made her come last longer and get even more violent ... she writhed so ferociously under me that it was all I could do to stay on top of her and keep riding her cunt.
I humped her more gently then, until her breathing returned to normal and her body relaxed. Then I started fucking hard again, pushing deep into her and bumping the tip of her clit at the end of each pistoning stroke, taking care to move with her, not against her, as her cunt spasmed around my shaft. When she got passionately aroused again-which didn't take long-I pushed my body up on hers until my chin was over her head and my dick was pointed almost straight down, buried in her lewdly upraised twat. I pulled it out until just the head was still planted inside her pussy lips, and began short, rubbing strokes right against her hot swollen clit. She was so wet by then I felt like I was screwing a tub of warm, melted butter.
"Take your hand," she panted feverishly in mid-fuck, "and slide it under my ass and up to feel my cunt-all around it, where your cock's going in and out of me ... put your finger in my asshole-not too hard-feel around my cunt some more ... now go into me all the way! Now!"
I shoved my cock all the way into her, and as I did so I felt her hand slide between our bodies to rub her clitoris and begin working it against the base of my shaft with frantic energy.
"Faster," she moaned, "go fast-faster! Put your finger up my ass! Shove it in! Fuck my ass with your finger, fuck my ass while your cock fucks my cunt!"
I began to jackhammer my body against hers, my pubic bone banging painfully against her wildly masturbating hand, and I reached down, feeling my prick pounding in and out of her, then lower, where her dripping juices had soaked her anal cleft. I pushed my index finger into her asshole as far as the first joint. Her mouth opened wide, sucking in air, her eyeballs rolled back in their sockets, and her hips and ass cheeks went into a sharp, uncontrolled jerking rhythm which felt so good on my pussy-planted cock that I knew I would have to come, too.
She pulled my mouth down to hers and shouted her orgasmic fervor into it, howling "Uhhhhh, fuck, ahhhhh!" like a sheep's bleating. She kept up that mad jerking motion of her cunt, which literally sucked the sperm out of my prick. As I came, I drilled into her in long, hard, battering-ram strokes, and felt her fingers as she went on frigging herself. She must have had one orgasm after another for a good three minutes; I was spent and just wanted to pull out and roll off her, but Maureen held me tightly to her, gasping for breath, her mouth on my ear, her hands sliding over my sweat-slickened back and ass. My cock was still moving inside her sluggishly, as I moaned with pleasure and felt myself shriveling fast in the hot clasp of her slushy wet orifice.
Maureen was panting frantically. "You're going to be the best-the best fucker of them all," she managed to squeeze out. "Jesus Christ," she laughed, "I'm so fucked out I can't move ... I feel like I'm dead ... fucked to death!"
I didn't know if she meant it, or if she just said it to make me feel good-but I was proud of myself: I felt like going out and raping every female I met, just to do them a favor. I had a powerful urge to sleep, but Maureen anticipated that: "Don't you dare," she said.
"Dare what?"
"Go to sleep on me-yet. I don't care how tired you think you are, or how sleepy. When you've finished fucking is the time a woman most wants to be held and caressed and talked to. Otherwise, you make her feel that she's just been used-that once you're through with her body you don't really give a damn about her, you just want to roll over and forget it ever happened. So don't go to sleep until the woman starts drifting off, too ... that way, she'll sleep with a smile on her face and love you twice as much as if you just turned over, said "Thanks for the fuck,' and started snoring."
Finally we separated, Maureen's body damp and shiny with our mingled sweat, her beautiful satin sheets shockingly stained with large dark pools where our sex juices had run down her ass and the insides of her thighs and soaked into the bedclothes.
"I'm sorry my jerking set you off," she said lightly, "but I was so hot I couldn't help myself-I thought I'd die if I didn't come."
"It's okay-I was ready, anyway." I sure had been!
She licked my glistening, limp cock delicately. "If I do that again and it feels too intense or if I do it before you're ready to come, pull almost all the way out of my pussy and hold your prick still, if you can ... I'll be too far gone, so I'll have to keep on humping until I cream, but you can probably lose the urge to shoot if you squeeze your ass muscles, like when you take a shit." I had to laugh at this combination of sex lecture and vulgarity. "It doesn't always work," Maureen admitted, "and it's not so great, anyway, because by then a man's probably really turned on and dying to shoot off, so it's just a matter of how much he can take before he erupts." She cupped my balls tenderly in one hand. "But sometimes that extra minute, or even a few seconds' delay, can make a big difference...."
We talked a while, and then went into the bathroom to clean up a bit.
"Sit on the toilet," Maureen said-her voice taking on that husky, extra-sexy timbre I was beginning to recognize. She had something up her sleeve-figurately speaking, since both of us were stark naked.
"But I only have to piss," explained Innocent Little Old Me.
"I know, but sit on the John anyway. I want to show you something that feels just marvelous!"
"What?"
"Shut up and do it, don't spoil the surprise...."
"Bitch-" I sat down, and she sat facing me, straddling my lap with her arms around my neck. We kissed, and I was actually so naive that I had no idea of what she could be up to, except possibly fucking-which seemed a strange thing to want to do in the bathroom, sitting down, and on the John besides ... when Maureen pulled her face back from mine, though, it was tensed up in a look of such concentration-eyes closed, mouth open and groaning faintly-that I knew something pretty kinky was on the agenda. Then I felt a startling warm, wet sensation against my belly as she started moaning with pleasure! Jesus Christ-she was pissing on me! And what shocked me even more was that, hell, it did feel wild and horny! Maureen began lifting herself, moving up my chest, and I could feel the hot torrent of urine from her cunt run down over my body, drenching my genitals and dripping into the toilet below. I thought she would stop at my neck, but she didn't. She shoved her cunt right into my face, and I could see from close up the thin stream of urine still pouring out, if not (mercifully!) with the same force it had had a few seconds before. Her pubic patch and the insides of her thighs were wet and the piss was running in rivers down over the lower cheeks of her ass, and then dripping over my chest and lap. We were both inundated with the flow from her bladder.
"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed in real awe. "Where'd you learn this?"
But Maureen didn't, or couldn't answer. She got off of me quickly, pulled open the shower curtain, and lay on the cold cement floor of the stall, ass over the drain.
"Stand over me and piss on me!" she moaned, beginning to frig herself furiously with both hands, spreading her cunt lips wide open. "Hurry up! Piss! Piss all over me, piss!"
I stood over her body and directed my penis downwards, but for some reason-probably simply stage fright-I couldn't unload at first.
"Hurry up!" she kept yelling. "Hurry up and piss!" The cold floor of the shower stall was already wet with her urine, dripping off both our bodies. Finally I felt my cock relax inside, and I started to piss in a thin stream, then much more forcefully. There was going to be a lot of it-I could tell. I was full to overflowing and I let her have it all, every hot drop!
"All over me!" she screamed excitedly. "Do it all over me-ohhh, it feels so warm and nice! God!" She was writhing on the floor beneath my hot wet stream and masturbating herself into a frenzy. "Do it on my pussy-ahhh fuck yessss-now on my face, damn it-hurry, piss on my face!"
I was starting to run dry, so I got down on my knees, straddling her breasts, and pointed my prick at her face. But she wanted even more. She took my spurting dick in her hand and rubbed it all over her face, and as the last drops were coming out the slit in my cockhead, she sucked it into her mouth and drank them as she enjoyed a long, shuddering orgasm, her free hand buried halfway inside her twat and fucking away mindlessly, wet with our mingled piss and her freshly-tapped internal lubrications.
It had to be the freakiest sex trip I'd been on yet. Maureen was so weak from coming, I had to pull her to her feet. We turned on the water and had a long, hot shower together.
Then, relaxing in bed, she talked to me about it. "I suppose some people would call what we did absolutely filthy and depraved ... so, fuck them, who cares?! Psychiatrists like to label everything and file it away neatly, you know. They call fucking 'coitus' and if you pull out early it's
'coitus interruptus,' and if you like to take it up the ass it's 'sodomy,' and if you get off on drinking piss, it's 'urolagnia.' They have a name for every sexual practice, and if it doesn't conform to what's fashionable right now, they label it an aberration. Ten years ago, masturbation was considered awful, but now you're weird if you don't do it ... and oral sex! God, some people I know can't get off on any other way because they're afraid they'll be called square or unliberated unless they can deep throat. It felt good, didn't it?"
"What?"
"My piss going all over you-it felt good, didn't it?"
I had to admit that it had felt good; in fact, it had felt great-really wild.
Maureen and I talked about sex for hours and I enjoyed her conversation tremendously. She only had a high-school education, plus modeling school; but she couldn't have been more worldly or intelligent. Her ideas excited me-forced me to re-evaluate my conceptions and see things in a way I'd never even thought of before we met.
She lay between my legs, her head resting on my thigh and cock, her hands caressing my torso, and we fell asleep together.
In the weeks that followed, our lives fell into a pattern. I would get up in the morning and drag myself off to school. Maureen would sleep late-her "beauty sleep"-because she rarely had a modeling assignment until ten or eleven o'clock. She expected me to study every evening, giving me books of her own on philosophy and religion and history ... and then we would devote the rest of the night to making love.
Under her expert, patient tutelage, my performance in the sack improved beyond recognition. I got to the point where I could fuck for an hour or longer if I wanted to, and not come-at least most of the time. On some occasions I would be just too horny to wait, or Maureen would move too wildly unexpectedly, and I would blast helplessly inside her hot, tight cunt, filling it with my sperm. But it didn't matter any more, because coming was only part of our mutual sexual satisfaction. Often Maureen would build up to multiple climaxes, exploding again and again in rapid succession, and when she got on a good roll like that she would tell me to come with her and make it even better for both of us.
My new found sexual prowess made a difference in my general attitude toward heterosexuality. Now I would look at girls with more than casual interest, assuming that there wasn't a female alive whom I couldn't turn on. Maureen told me that my eyes seemed to say, Baby, you're looking at a stud who can fuck you right up the wall! She enjoyed this change in me even more than I did-at least at first.
I still did jobs three or four nights a week, and Maureen would often go with me. She would sit on the side of the room or back by the drums and wait for our breaks and talk to me. It must have been terribly boring for her, and guests at these various affairs always asked her to dance, and tried to pick her up, but she brushed them all off. During the time I stayed with her she never saw another man, and I, of course, wasn't seriously attracted to any other woman.
In other things, though, she was independent, doggedly refusing to let me share the rent with her. She could have seen all the men she wanted, but she refused to; she insisted that two people couldn't get into each other if they were busy fighting feelings of jealousy and competing for each other's affection with strangers.
Our lessons in bed went on, and, as time passed, we got into all of the incredible positions discussed and illustrated in sex magazines and marriage manuals, mostly just for the hell of trying them all out. We fucked and sucked every way except standing on our heads and swinging from a chandelier, and I quickly came to the conclusion that most of the more erotic positions and methods are a pain in the ass, unless you're double-jointed, a contortionist.
The manuals insisted that the woman-on-top was great-easier on the guy and giving the woman more freedom of movement around his cock. But Maureen was one of the few women disciplined enough to control that freedom of motion. Others I fucked later would tend to ride my dick as though their cunts were sliding up and down a flagpole, which made me shoot off in no time at all. To prevent this, the man has to put his feet flat on the bed with his knees up. That way, as Madame goes up and down on your dick, you can go up and down with her to ease some of the pressure.
Doing it doggy-style-one of Maureen's favorite variations-also had its advantages and drawbacks. Even with a cock the size of mine, it tended to slip out very easily; and, furthermore, we couldn't get any contact with her clit, except some indirect tugging on it as I pumped, so I'd have to reach around and stimulate it manually-not that that wasn't pleasant or effective. It's a great breast-groping position, though, I must say, because the woman's boobs are hanging down like ripe pears for you to grab and knead at will.
Lying on your sides, face-to-face, is also nice, particularly if the girl throws just one leg up over your shoulder, which really opens up her box and gives you access to it ... but, after all that's been written about various positions, there's still nothing that can beat the tried and true missionary position ... it's intimate, it provides total body contact, it assures the best stimulation of clit-by-cock for the woman and the best possibilities of endurance for the man. It's comfortable, too, and when either or both of you are having an orgasm, it's the most satisfying position by far-both partners rolled up together, fucking and coming away, stroke after stroke. That's why they call it "balling," after all!
CHAPTER SEVEN
It wasn't until I had lived with Maureen for a few weeks that I really began to find out about her. To a guy my age it wasn't a very nice story, even though I was in no position to be surprised by it or to make any moral judgements. As my first infatuation began to fade, I saw things more clearly, noticing what had escaped me in my initial sex obsession.
For one thing, Maureen consumed a lot of gin. At first she drank it mostly in martinis, but I soon noticed that she often just tossed some ice cubes into a glass and filled it up with straight gin and slugged it down thirstily, immediately giving herself a refill. And if she was upset about anything she would take her booze right from the bottle-no glass, no ice, no nothing. She had a drink in the morning before she left for work, and when she returned home she would usually head directly for the bar and have a quick gulp of gin followed by several more leisurely drinks before and during dinner. Maureen liked to dine out and taught me how to order for her, how to handle the waiters, how to choose a wine, leave tips, and even proper table manners. She always had four or five martinis in the course of such an evening out, and a couple more once we got home.
Still, she wasn't an out-and-out alcoholic like some of the winos I'd seen on the street. She never took a supply of booze with her in a hip flask or even a bottle, as I'd seen some perfectly
"respectable"-looking women do; and, as far as I knew, she never drank at work and never got up in the middle of the night for a quick belt. If we went out for the day to the beach or someplace like that, where there was no booze available, she didn't seem to miss it. Nevertheless, she went through a fifth of clear white Gordon's every couple of days, and bought it by the case to keep the apartment well stocked.
The liquor often made her irritable, sometimes downright bitchy: if we were out she would get insanely jealous if I even looked in the general direction of another female, or indeed male, between the ages of twelve and sixty ... she would ask me bitterly if I wanted to fuck this one or that one, or get into another one's pants, and then she'd start accusing me of screwing around on her and threatening to throw me out-reminding me loudly that everything I knew about heterosexual fucking, I owed to her. Her face would turn hard and cold and her eyes would blaze with vindictive fury-whenever she got like that she scared the shit out of me!
Once we got home she'd apologize as violently as she'd fought with me, and we'd end up making love until we were both thoroughly fucked out and passed out in each other's arms. And, in the morning, she'd say it wasn't the liquor that turned her into a bitch: no, it was because she was due for her period, or having it, or late for it, or because something had happened to upset her at work the day before ... lies, of course. I had been on the street too long not to recognize a drug or booze binge when I saw one. But her drinking bouts weren't her only problem.
I often wondered why Maureen was so attracted to young gay guys, when she was sexy enough to have the real he-men types fighting for the chance to fuck her. But I never worked up the nerve to discuss this sensitive issue with her.
One Saturday Maureen came home tired out from working a fashion show. I had a gig playing for a wedding reception that night, so Maureen said she'd just stay home and get some much-needed rest.
We were supposed to play from eight to midnight, or until the guests got too drunk to dance; but something unexpected happened. Just as we were tuning up, while the guests were still devouring the catered dinner, everyone was startled by a loud crash, accompanied by a scream, from the head table ... the father of the bride had passed out cold with his head buried in the cake. He'd had a mild heart attack and was rushed to a hospital in an ambulance; nothing serious, everyone was assured-maybe it was getting the bill for the bash that set him off-but the party broke up, naturally, and we were paid and sent home. Marriage, I thought-who needs it?!
I drove home and walked in the door about nine o'clock. The apartment was dark, but unmistakable sounds of lovemaking were coming loud and clear from the bedroom. I threw open the bedroom door ... silhouetted against the shaded windows were two figures, jumping upright in the bed at the sound of my unexpected entrance.
Maureen's voice sounded shocked, but in control: "Go into the living room and don't turn on the light!"
I was confused, to put it mildly. So, saying nothing, I stomped back into the living room. Tired my ass! I thought angrily. She wasn't too tired to be balling some other guy! I could hear whispering in the bedroom ... on a sudden, vindictive impulse, I went back to the doorway and flicked on the bright overhead light. They were both sitting up naked in bed, staring at me-Maureen and a very pretty blonde girl!
"I thought I told you to stay the fuck out," Maureen scolded me, as though it was my fault.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" was all I could think to blurt out.
There was an awkward silence, as the other girl looked helplessly at Maureen. "D-do you want me to go?" she stammered in a soft, frightened voice.
Maureen sighed theatrically and shrugged her shoulders. "No," she insisted. "Stick around. I want you to stay." Then she smiled sheepishly at me. "I was going to tell you, eventually ... it was just a matter of time. I didn't think you were ready for it yet, that's all."
I felt paralyzed with shock and disbelief. Sexy, cock-loving Maureen-a dyke?! I just couldn't believe it was possible.
"Come over here and meet Lisa," she commanded me, in control again. "Lisa, this is Gordy-obviously."
I actually shook hands with Lisa, not seeing anything ludicrous in the gesture at the time, as Lisa got a sudden attack of modesty after having flashed me her naked tits and pussy, and covered her breasts with a corner of the sheet. So there I was, being formally introduced to my supposed girl's girlfriend-her lesbian lover. Surreal!
Again there was an uncomfortable silence, broken only when Maureen wanted to know why I was back so early. She patted the bed to indicate she wanted me to sit there, and I did, telling her about the fiasco of the wedding reception and how the father of the bride had almost dropped dead. Maureen and Lisa were both casually sympathetic, the way people tend to be when it hasn't happened to them, and we talked about it for a few minutes, more to fill up the silence in the bedroom and avoid discussing what had just happened than for any other reason. Maureen lay back against the pillows, with Lisa on one side of her and me on the other-very cozy.
"And then you find me in bed with another woman," she said, just a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "Not exactly your night, huh, baby?"
I grunted.
"It's all right," she said. "You ought to know that I'd never be unfaithful to you with another guy for as long as we went on seeing each other, but this is different-special-I don't really know how to explain it to you so you'll understand. Lisa is a lovely girl, isn't she?-and it's ridiculous for you to feel hurt about this, because it doesn't affect you and me. So-come lay your head on my shoulder and let me put my arm around you."
Hmmmmm ... this was getting interesting. Lisa watched me anxiously as I automatically crawled forward on the bed to lie beside Maureen. My emotions were still up in the air and thoroughly confused, with resentment predominating, but my cock, which always has had a mind of its own and no morals whatsoever-no false pride, certainly-was beginning to get hard in my pants. I lay with her arm under me, hugging me, and she began to rub my back and neck ... I could smell the sweet gin on her breath. Lisa forgot all about modesty again and let the sheet slip down, exposing her lusciously rounded naked body. She sat beside Maureen with her legs folded under her, a honey blonde with light brown pussy fur, a bit thinner than Maureen and smaller, younger-looking, more girlish. Her blue eyes had a slightly stunned, wounded look, as though she, too, felt uncertain about what was going on with the three of us. She looked about twenty and, from her boyish build and small firm breasts, I guessed that she was a model too and had met Maureen through their work.
As Maureen caressed me with her left arm her right hand reached up and began gently fondling Lisa's breast, tracing the outlines of it with the flat of her hand, then slowly massaging the small pink nipple into erection. Lisa stroked Maureen's forearm with both hands, very sensuously, for a few minutes, and then stretched out at full length beside her with her head on Maureen's unoccupied shoulder.
By now I had a real hard-on and was wondering if there was any possibility of my getting to fuck Lisa-whether she swung both ways and, if she did, whether I turned her on and would Maureen mind her having sex with me ... knowing Maureen-or did I?-I felt sure that she had something sexual in mind, or I wouldn't be in bed with the two of them in the first place.
Maureen finally turned her head toward me and we kissed, sucking on each other's tongues. Then she turned her head the other way, and she and Lisa kissed, if anything much more passionately than we just had. I was getting too turned on to feel insulted, though, and I moved up over them so I could watch better ... the two girls were kissing full on the mouth and sucking each other's tongues avidly, as Maureen and I had. Suddenly, Maureen twisted her face up toward me, and we kissed again. I felt her pulling Lisa closer, so that our three faces were together, and Lisa's arm slid smoothly over my shoulder for support as we necked furiously.
Maureen held the back of Lisa's blonde head, pushing her face over until all of our lips were touching. All three of us kissed for some time, our lips and tongues indiscriminately connecting with each other in various combinations. Lisa and I kissed, while Maureen licked around our mouths and cheeks ... of all the new erotic experiences I had enjoyed with Maureen, this had to be the most sensually arousing yet.
Finally Maureen whispered to me to get undressed. I got off the bed and fairly tore off my clothes while the two girls went on kissing and fondling each other. When I was standing there naked with my prong in the air, Lisa looked up at it and gasped faintly, an odd expression on her face-fear mingled with lust.
Maureen, noticing all this, quickly told me, "It'll be great if the three of us have sex together ... but you've got to remember that Lisa's terribly afraid of men's cocks. So be extra gentle and don't do anything that might hurt her."
I promised I wouldn't, trying to hide my disappointment at not being able to show off my recently-acquired heterosexual prowess by just fucking Lisa like crazy. I got back onto the bed, and we all kissed and fondled some more. Maureen moved to Lisa's other side and told me she wanted us both to make love to the lovely little blonde girl, who lay back and sighed as Maureen began sucking one of her breasts, and I sucked the other. We ended up between Lisa's legs, feeling the very soft, satin-textured skin of her lower buttocks and inner thighs, and running our fingers over her clit and in and out of her cunt. She quickly got turned on, what with two people both stimulating her genitals, and began to moan and pump her body slowly up and down on the mattress.
I leaned down and closed my mouth over her nipple, sucking on it and drawing it out gently until it throbbed between my lips and against my tongue, fully erect. Maureen kissed Lisa's belly and thighs, and, moving around between her thighs, began to lick her juicy young blonde cunt. Lisa sucked in her breath in a rasp the moment she felt Maureen's cool wet tongue touch her clit, groaning with passion. I could look down and see Maureen's closed eyes as she licked and kissed Lisa's pussy lips. Suddenly, she pushed Lisa's legs back up to her breasts getting the girl into one of Maureen's own favorite positions, cunt fully exposed and readily accessible.
"She's just about ready-suck her cunt!" Maureen ordered me breathlessly. I moved my head down between the girl's legs, licking her pussy from above while Maureen tongued it from below. Maureen's tongue licked lower and lower, until she was kissing Lisa's ass. Immediately, the blonde began to scream with pleasure as Maureen -rimmed her, grabbing my hair with her hands and pushing my face hard into her twat, as her whole body arched up rigidly and vibrated wildly, yelling her way through a prolonged, thrashing orgasm until her voice gave out from sheer hoarseness and lack of breath. Her cunt spilled its wet juices against my eagerly sucking mouth and probing tongue as she came.
We rested for a moment, as Lisa took Maureen into her arms, showering her with soft kisses and thanking her in gasps. It seemed strange that she should thank another woman for making love to her when I'd gone down on her, but she just kept saying how happy she was, and thanking Maureen again and again, while all but ignoring me ... maybe she'd been pretending it was Maureen's tongue in her twat that had brought her off, the little dyke!
Still embracing Lisa, Maureen reached over and began playing with me, rubbing my cock and balls lightly but effectively. At that point I was so hard it wouldn't have taken much to set me off: the strangeness of the situation and the knowledge that I was in bed with two women instead of one was almost enough in itself to make me come. I could feel my come boiling up in my balls, and, to make it even worse, Maureen twisted away from Lisa and started to suck my cock, as though to show her lesbian lover that there was nothing to be so afraid of ... Lisa, indeed, slid down close to watch the blow job, fascinated, as Maureen's incredibly talented tongue licked my prickshaft up and down its entire length. Maureen took the back of the blonde's head and, with a gentle pressure, pressed Lisa's lips against my cockshaft, murmuring that it was okay because I wouldn't come in her mouth-little did she know how close I was to blowing my wad!
Watching both girls' lips and tongues working on me, I had to fight back the urge to shoot. At first Lisa didn't seem to enjoy giving head to a guy very much; I suppose she only did it to please Maureen, who held my shaft in her hand and guided the swollen head into Lisa's mouth, kissing and licking all around Lisa's lips as the blonde hesitantly sucked my dick. I could tell that she hadn't sucked many other guys, if indeed any before me. Her lips were wet and warm, though, making up for her clumsiness; but she didn't lavish anything like the affection Maureen displayed when she blew me ... she just kept her mouth moving up and down on my meat, her eyes looking at Maureen for signs of approval and encouragement. Still controlling the action with her hand, Maureen finally withdrew the tip of my tool from Lisa's mouth and slipped it into her own-what a difference-and then back into Lisa's, then back into her own mouth ... the two of them kissing lustfully for a moment as they made the switch, running their tongues into each other's mouths and using the head of my cock as a sort of sexual common denominator, licking it as they licked each other, coating it with their mixed saliva ... I had to fight to keep from blasting as the horny little game went on.
At last Maureen announced she wanted me in her, and turned onto her back. Sitting upright on my knees, I bent my prick down at the right angle and slid it deep into her without wasting any time about it. Lisa-who, like me, had apparently never been in such a threesome before-confirmed her voyeurism by bending down to watch from a few inches' distance, as my cock pumped in and out of Maureen's fabulous snatch. I was so close to coming that I was afraid to move very much, but let Maureen set the pace with her strong, well-trained vaginal muscles and lewdly rotating pelvis. She pulled Lisa into her arms as I fucked her, so that Lisa lay diagonally across her body, while Maureen slipped her left arm under and up between the girl's legs to play with her pussy. I stroked Lisa's hair and back as she moved down to suck Maureen's breasts, working on each ripe nipple for quite some time, finally brushing her panting lips down toward Maureen's plugged cunt lips. What a horny sight that made-there I was on my knees between Maureen's spread legs, screwing her, with Lisa's blonde head bobbing up and down in the space between our humping bodies; as she licked Maureen's stiff, jutting-out clit, I could feel her wet tongue rub across the shaft of my buried, fucking prick each time. Maureen began humping frantically up against my cock and Lisa's tongue ... that was too much for me to take-the come simply boiled out of my cock and I had as strong an ejaculation as I could, flooding Maureen's spasming cunt with my sperm.
My cock started to go soft inside Maureen, but she was too turned on, too far gone, to feel it. She jerked wildly, and I slipped out of her wet pussy, but neither girl seemed to notice or care. Lisa moved down farther, getting a lot of my fresh semen-which was running right out of Maureen's cunt-smeared over her face. She sucked on Maureen's clit ... Maureen screamed and heaved for over a minute, and then she collapsed, groaning, spreadeagled on the bed, still coming in little quakes and shudders as Lisa's tongue probed her juicy quim and tried to lick it clean.
We all three simply fell asleep where we were, in a jumbled pile of limbs. Sometime later, noise and bed motion woke me up again, and I looked up to see Maureen lying on top of Lisa, between her legs, rubbing and bumping her own cunt against Lisa's pubic mound, then moving down quickly to slide her cunt over the top of Lisa's thigh ... Lisa had reached behind to bury her fingers inside Maureen's pussy from the rear and finger-fuck her. They writhed together, breathless and sobbing, kissing each other desperately and pumping together in a blur of frenzied motion. With a last deep gasp of effort, Maureen clasped her lips over Lisa's and they both came again.
Even though I was beginning to feel superfluous, I got hard again from watching them as they rolled over in mid-orgasm and Lisa began to rub herself against Maureen frantically, moaning nonstop. I slid closer and caressed Lisa's back and ass and legs as she humped herself through her climax, pushing my hand between their bodies to feel their wet cunts convulsing and spilling, finally moving around behind Lisa and burying my tongue up her ass-but she was fucking too fast for me to keep the contact long. Very soon she had still another shuddering, wrenching orgasm, and lay still on top of Maureen.
After a while Lisa got up, shakily, and started getting dressed, looking for her clothes in the darkness and picking them up from where they'd been scattered all over the floor. I turned the nightstand lamp on to help her.
"Aren't you going to spend the night?" I asked sleepily, a little surprised that she would want to leave so soon after all the heavy action.
"I'd like to," she admitted, smiling ruefully at Maureen, "but my husband is waiting at home for me, and it's getting pretty late."
Her husband! That freaked me. I had been blown by plenty of married Johns who liked to swing both ways, but I had never thought of women being that way-especially Lisa, with her fear of cocks!
Maureen saw the bewilderment on my face.
"Lisa's husband is a theater producer," she said, and her look explained it all.
As soon as Lisa was gone, Maureen confirmed that Lisa's old man was as gay as they come and that theirs was a marriage of convenience. Maureen also told me about her own lesbian desires. She had been introduced to lesbian practices in modeling school: she was awakened one night by her roommate, who had pulled the covers down and was trying to masturbate Maureen in her sleep. When Maureen realized what was happening and started to protest and struggle, the other girl shut her up by putting her tongue in her cunt and licking her until she came as she never had until then-all over the place, as Maureen put it frankly. They'd gone on having sex together, and the roommate taught Maureen the fundamentals.
"Loving another woman is so different from fucking a man," Maureen said wistfully. "The sensations-there's no comparing them, even though the woman may be doing the very same things to your body a man would. A woman's touch is so light and soft, her body feels so soft, while everything about a man's is hard. And not just his cock-everything! I like to stand next to a woman and let our nipples, nothing else, touch just slightly, and then rub, nipple to nipple, back and forth. Then I like to push the tip of my breast into my lover's cunt, and turn her on by rubbing it up and down over her clit; and I like to have the same thing done to me. I love licking another woman's pussy, going down on it, smell her fragrance there and taste her juices dripping out of her as she gets more and more excited. I could just lie cunt to cunt, with my legs wrapped around hers, and rub back and forth all night-coming like crazy, so often we lose count. I like to do sixty-nine with a lesbian lover and have her suck my nipples, or my cunt, while I suck hers right back....
"It's all such a totally feminine experience that I don't think a guy like you could begin to understand it. It wasn't that I preferred Lisa to you; you mustn't think that. It's just that it's so different with her I can't afford not to experience it from time to time, and I didn't think you'd mind, once you knew how I felt. You're my favorite, as far as men go. But-men can only go so far, you know. Sorry about that!" she teased.
Lisa wasn't the only woman Maureen made love with. There was also a friend of hers who was into the same bisexual trip, and another married woman we spent a wild, three-day weekend with when her husband was out of town on business, fucking each other silly. Maybe it was simply because I felt outnumbered two to one, but I always felt like an outsider when Maureen had a girl staying with us for sex-as though they were the lovers and I was the imported stud.
Some of her lesbian friends were really committed to it, though, and not at all bisexual, not digging males under any circumstances. Then I would stay in the spare bedroom-with all of the moans and cries of sapphic ecstasy coming from Maureen's room. I could hear them going down on each other and bumping pussies and coming again and again even with the doors closed. Strangely enough, though, apart from the simple nuisance value of all the sex noises, I felt no real jealousy after that first surprise with Lisa, even knowing that Maureen was in the other room sucking off a girl friend ... possibly it was because no sense of male-against-male competition was involved, so I didn't feel threatened; I don't know.
"I'm not really a lesbian, you know," Maureen said abruptly one day, bringing up the subject herself and becoming quite serious.
"Oh, sure," I said sarcastically. "You just like to have sex with other women, that's all."
"Well, you let any man who had the money suck your cock for a year and a half, two years, so I guess that makes you a queer-right?"
She always knew how to shut me up, the cunt!
"Okay," I said, "so why aren't you really a lesbian? Don't forget, I did all that for money, but you do it for fun."
"Well, I may do it for fun, but not because I'm basically lesbian ... if anything, it's autoeroticism, narcissism, with me, and also I think with a lot of other women who are basically straight but find out they can enjoy sex with each other, too."
"What do you mean-autoerotic and narcissism and all that?"
"Well, obviously I can't make love to myself, except by masturbating, which isn't quite what I mean. I'd like to be able to really do it-really fuck myself! So this is a substitute ... I love myself, my own body, love to look at myself in the mirror, especially when I am making myself come with my hands. But I can't kiss myself or suck my own breasts or lick my own cunt, and I think it would be wild to be able to. And masturbating isn't really all that satisfying for me. So I get other girls, girls with beautiful bodies like mine, and who look as much as possible like me. Then, when I'm in bed with them, I can pretend that it's me, making love to myself. And I find that terribly exciting ... haven't you ever wanted to suck your own cock, for Christ's sake?"
"No, I can't say that I have-and anyway, I'm not limber enough," I joked.
"But suppose you could find some gay guy who had a cock exactly like yours. Wouldn't you like to suck it off-just to see what it would be like to do your own? And pretend that you were sucking your own dick?! God, what a horny fantasy!"
I had to admit I had never seriously thought of it that way. It all sounded like just a way of rationalizing her predilection for dykes, but I never tried to judge Maureen's behavior, and, whatever her real reasons for liking girls, they remained her own, unquestioned by me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One afternoon I got back early from college classes, long before Maureen was due home, and brazenly examined the contents of the box on the floor of her closet. It was like a scrapbook that hadn't quite been organized, so the story it told was incoherent, bits and pieces of obviously related material that didn't add up to a real explanation of her. There were photos of her with her family, at various ages, and her high-school yearbook with a class picture in which she looked more innocent, if not exactly virginal, but still very beautiful and womanly ... the faces of several boys in group shots were circled, but with no explanation. Had these been the ones she'd dated and/or screwed? I speculated jealously.
There were two very hot lesbian love letters from the girl who had evidently been her roommate at modeling school, saying how much she missed "those delicate pink petals of your pussy and the soft breasts I loved to lie on," and swearing to love Maureen undyingly, the horny, sentimental dyke! And there was a detailed bill from a hospital, addressed to Maureen's father, demanding eight hundred bucks for an emergency dilation and curettage, whatever the hell that was, with a carbon copy of a letter explaining that because of "unfortunate circumstances" damage had been done to the endometrial lining of the uterus, so it was un-likely that Maureen would ever be able to conceive a child again. It didn't take me long to figure out that she must've had an abortion, probably a clumsy, illegal one, and that complications had set in ... that explained her ambivalent attitude toward children: she wanted a young boy for a lover, to mother as well as to fuck; but other women's kids made her feel bitter, remembering what had no doubt been a gruesome, traumatic experience.
There were pornographic photos of Maureen, too. In one shot she was sucking the cock of a guy whose face wasn't shown; in another she was getting screwed doggy-style; in a third, she had a black stud on top of her and her head turned toward the camera, which showed a very young blond boy ramming his prick into her mouth. In another picture she was lying with her legs obscenely spread toward the camera, shoving a huge flesh-colored rubber dildo up her cunt. I was in no position to make any moral judgements, of course, but I was still a bit jolted by this revelation of just how sexually uninhibited she could be.
I replaced the box exactly as I had found it, and didn't feel tempted to go snooping again.
Maureen's drinking continued. It seemed that my screwing her was the only thing that could keep her away from her gin bottles long enough to make her compatible. Unfortunately, because she often came home tired and depressed from the cut-throat-competitive world of modeling in a big city, and hardly in the mood for sex, I took a lot of abuse from her ... she accused me of screwing some of the girls and guys in my class at school, even though she knew I thought of them as dumb kids. She began to demand that I come home immediately after my classes and jazz gigs, explaining every minute of my whereabouts to her satisfaction if I was late. I couldn't even go out for a beer with my friends after a job! It sure as hell didn't sound much like the mutual-trust and independence routine she'd handed me at the start of our relationship. Then, after a fight, once we went to bed together, she would get apologetic and remorseful, saying she didn't know what got into her to make her such a bitch, and begging me to forgive her. And we'd fuck, as if my cock were the only thing that could exorcise the demons in her body and psyche.
It suddenly dawned on me that, despite all the sex I was getting, I wasn't all that happy with our deteriorating affair. Still, I lacked the maturity to leave her and go back-to what? The streets? My call-boy service? My gay fuck buddies? Other, less sophisticated and loving women? Shit! I didn't know what I wanted, or how to find it. So I went along, playing our game by Maureen's rules, until it got to the point where I wanted to kill her when she yelled at me over nothing.
One evening it all blew up in our faces. I was an hour late getting to her place, and Maureen let me have it as soon as I stepped through her front door-where had I been that extra hour? Who was I screwing, ungrateful little punk hustler that I was? Wasn't it enough for my ego and my insatiable faggot sex drive, being her kept stud? And so on and on and on ... she wouldn't even let me get a sentence in edge-wise. Of all her tirades, this was the worst-the most irrational and vindictive. I blew up too!
I gave her a hard, open-handed slap across the face, knocking her sprawling over the sofa cushions.
"Shut your hole, you fucking bitch!" I shouted. "I've taken just about all the shit I'm going to take! I'm tired of being your goddamned sex slave around here, waiting for you to get drunk and yell at me over nothing, then want to fuck like some bitch in heat! From now on I go where I want to and I screw who I want to, and the next time you open that cocksucking mouth of yours to put me down, I swear to Christ I'll knock your ass right through the wall! You picked me up, sister, in case you've forgotten-not the other way around. I never asked to be your 'kept stud,' as you so delicately put it, garbage mouth! Hell-if I was still working the streets or my phone at home instead of servicing you, you horny nympho lush, I'd be making thousands of dollars ... but no, I gave that all up to be with you! Talk about ungrateful! You cunt!"
I was panting, completely out of breath, and shocked at my behavior. I walked out on her before I said or did even more to hurt her.
Thinking back over the scene that had just taken place, I began to wallow in sexual sentimentality and toyed with the idea of going back to apologize. But I knew that if I did I would go on belonging to her body and soul, completely at the mercy of the strong erotic hold she had acquired, over me. Next time, breaking away from her would be even more difficult. She had me by the balls-castrated! I came to a painful decision-that it was time to move on, get on with my life. My future didn't lie with Maureen, as great as it had been with her in the beginning. She was just another experience that I had had, and survived.
The next morning, when I woke up alone in my own apartment, I found a letter in the mail box from Maureen. There was no stamp; she'd delivered it personally during the night, but without ringing my bell to see if I was there to talk to me face to face.
"My darling Gordy," she wrote in a large, wobbly handwriting. "I know you will think I'm a coward for not saying what I have to say in person, but, believe me, I have good reasons, and the fear that I'd break down and cry and change my mind are not the least of them.
"When I met you two months ago I sensed at once your extraordinary potential-not only as a lover but as a human being. You were throwing yourself away as a male whore, as I was throwing myself away as a female whore. You know there were other men-hundreds of them-before you and there'll be others now, but forget about them. Maybe I am a nympho and a lush, but I can't help myself. I want you to have good memories of our time together and not feel bitter toward me. I'm proud that I helped change you from an awkward, arrogant, ex-stud-hustler to a young man mature beyond his years, ready to take on the world-and I don't mean just in bed.
"I turned you into a pleasure-giver instead of just another taker. Last night when you clobbered me-as I well deserved-I knew that there was no more I could give you. To keep you with me now would be selfish of me and a waste of your life. You don't love me, because any love you think you feel would just be misplaced gratitude.
"I'm moving in for a few days with a friend of mine, so you can pick up the things you kept at my place. She's an older dyke type, very butch and heavy sexually, but I've always found comfort in her arms-and I feel guilty about it, can you believe it? Me, guilty about sex? Please don't worry about me. Somewhere out there is another Gordy-another confused young punk with your kind of potential, for me to educate and send out into the world as a man, as I've done with you.
"P.S.-just to make it easier for us to break up, I've got a belated confession to make. Our meeting at the fashion show wasn't an accident. I noticed you when you played at another show a month before that, although you didn't even look at me. I was the woman who found out your name and where you lived, and sent that hustler Carlo over to you as a fuck present. The fact that I lied to you about that harmless incident all this time may tell you what kind of a devious, unprincipled bitch I really am.
"All my love-Maureen."
I put the letter down slowly, then re-read it, folded it carefully, replaced it in its envelope, and put it in my combination-lock box. I wanted to save it.
I felt terribly alone at first, and not at all confident about that new-found sense of maturity that Maureen insisted I had. But, as she'd confirmed in the letter, it was past time to get on with my life. Maybe I'd call Paul, or one of the other guys ... and maybe I wouldn't. For the first time since I'd lost my virginity-twice over, first to men and then to women-I didn't have to worry about whether I was gay or straight, or even think about it. The whole matter was irrelevant ... because there were just two kinds of sex: the good, caring kind that Maureen and I had shared early in our relationship, and the bad kind. I'd had more than enough of the bad, impersonal, exploitative variety.
From now on I was only going to settle for good sex, no matter who or what I fucked. Thanks to Maureen.
