In Hot ... Hotter ... Hottest, George L. Blake takes us behind the scenes in the glamorous, most always ugly life of the actor and what he has to give up in search of the birth goddess, success. Author Blake pulls no punches and the ugliness he writes about in unpleasant, but it is there and he doesn't pretend is any way that it isn't. By presenting experiences with true-to-life accuracy, and with the graphic detail to heighten its full impact on the reader, perhaps the whole story can be told for the benefit of all.
You will soon realize through the following pages that any actors downfall can't be blamed simply on one person or one thing. Each of the people involved in the stories were in part responsible, the good and the bad, the concerned and the unconcerned.
Perhaps many people can be saved from the fate of the protagonist of Hot ... Hotter ... Hottest before it is too late. There have been too many of our young men and women who have already met this unfortunate fate. Perhaps a warning like Mr. Blake's might change quite a few minds about the often-times evil, ugliness and false glitter of the world of acting.
A.L. Saunders, M.A. New York City February, 1970.
Part One
CHAPTER ONE
With a last look at the sleeping infant in the crib, Linda Baxter closed the bedroom door and hurried down to the hall where an agitated young man, resplendent in evening dress, waited for her.
"Come on, dear," he handed her the light-weight coat which she slipped over her shoulders, "We're late now and I hate being the last to arrive."
"Sorry darling, but I had to make sure the baby was asleep. She won't give you any bother Mother," she added as she kissed the elderly woman standing by the front door. "Make yourself some coffee when you want it and go on to bed, won't you? I'm not sure what time we shall be home, probably very late!"
"You go off and enjoy yourselves." Linda's mother who had come across to stay the night while the young couple went out, waved to them as they got into their car. It was not often Linda and Larry went out together, having a two year old child made it less easy for a young married couple to get out, but tonight was a very special occasion. After several years of trying to get a real start in show business, Larry had recently been given a fair sized part in a forthcoming play. His change of furtune had stemmed from the time he changed his agent. Max Meztof might not be a very likable fellow, with his slightly hunched shoulders and typically swarthy face of his native Malta, but he was one of the top theatrical agents in the business. Already Larry had played in a few television 'shorts' as a result of the pushing of Meztof, and now had come the big break-through. The play was to open in less than a month's time.
By and large, Larry was not a good mixer with the stage folk, seldom did he go to parties and even less frequent were his social contacts since the birth of his daughter less than two years ago. But tonight was different. This was a party that he HAD to go to, a party given by Max Meztof himself, one that Larry had tried to get out of attending but the Maltese had been more than insistent. Larry was well-aware of the reputation that Meztof enjoyed, a reputation of being a whoremaster, of lewdness of the lowest order. It had been in desperation that Larry had signed with such a man in the first place, but Meztof could get results. He had already proved that much, and now that Meztof said, "You must come to my party and bring that pretty wife of yours," Larry knew that he had to play along or he would be 'out on his ear' as far as Meztof was concerned for further bookings. He would be back in a worse position than before signing with the squat Maltese agent and he would have even less chance of getting parts once Meztof turned him away.
Linda was not the little Miss Innocent being led to a naughty party unknowingly. She knew the sort of man Meztof was reputed to be, she was sensible enough to know that her husband was in a jam. He could not afford to refuse to go to the party, not afford to refuse to take her along. She had assured him that she wanted to go to Meztof s party, she was looking forward to having a change from continually staying at home. She could take care of herself, she was not a foolish virgin after all, was she? She had arranged for her mother to come and stay and look after the baby and everything was set for a happy, light-hearted evening.
The Meztof house was in Richmond, a large rambling type of Victorian building that had been brought up to date with every modern invention that money could buy. Meztof believed in showing his wealth, a face that impressed all the guests at his party. Not the least impressed was Linda Baxter, and equally thrilled was she at meeting so many stage folk, faces that she had seen on T.V. and now was meeting them in the flesh. It was an exciting evening for her, and the constant attention of the carming, if ugly, Max Meztof, himself, was also causing the young wife a great deal of flattering pleasure.
The party, with plenty of drink, loud misuc and the constant chatter of happy folk progressed along its merry way until close to midnight. It was then, when everyone was just a little high from drink, enough to make all their inhibitions so much less, that Max called them all in to the large living room at the back of the house. It was here, amid a lot of "OOV and 'Ahh's' that he was showing his guests the latest addition to his collection of Erotic Art.
Linda and Larry stood with the others looking at the display of erotic sculpture. On a raised dias, a life sized figure of a woman lay on her back. The figure was beautifully and delicately moulded, her head drooping back to hang over the edge of the dias, her back was arched and her hips were raised in the air as if captured in motion.
Even the cords of her neck were shown in detail to indicate her straining, taut pose as she reached behind her to clasp at the asscheeks of a man. The man, also beautifully and detailed perfectly, stood close to the dias. He was, like the prostrate woman, quite naked, and one large hand was gripping his very large and rigid prick. He was girpping the shaft down near its base while the woman, her head bent backwards, had the head of the cock to her lips. The man's other hand covered one of her large titties, letting the fat nipple poke up through his outstretched fingers. The detail was magnificent.
Max Meztof had moved around so he was next to Linda. Larry who stood on her other side saw the elderly agent slide his arm around her waist. "The detail is wonderful," they heard the remark among so many murmering asides. "Just look where her finger is, darling," another woman chuckled. When they looked more closely at the woman's hand that clutched at the ass of her partner they saw that her middle finger was crooked into the asshole of the straining male.
It was after Max had unvelied several large pictures that hung on the walls of this room of erotica and got his guests into the sort of mood he desired, that he produced what he called, his little swap-wheel. The guests gathered around him when he placed the wheel on the table. Linda and Larry saw that it was like a roulette wheel except that the numbers were different. They were mostly zeros and double-zeros and there were a few blank sections and some were numbered from two up to ten.
Instead of a ball to spin the wheel it was fitted with a rubber gadget that spun around like a wheel of furtune. The rubber 'gadget' was shaped like a huge prick, a perfect replica of a large rigid cock!
As neither Linda or Larry had been to one of Meztof s parties before, they didn't know how this swap-wheel worked, but they were soon to find out. The buzz of excitement was more intense now as they all moved closer to the table. Max drew Linda alongside him and to the guests he said, "As this is the first visit to my humble household of this very charming young lady, I think it only fair and polite of us to let her have the first use of the wheel." His lewd grin and huge winking of the eye was greeted with shrieks of delight and approval from the others. Larry saw Max take Linda's hand and make her clasp the huge rubber cock that formed the center piece of the wheel. He told her what to do and as he let go of her hand, she swung the 'prick' around so it spun in a fast circle from the center of the wheel. Only a low buzz of muted murmers filled the room while the cock spun and when it finally rested, it was directed at a partition marked 'Doubld-Zero' Max beamed and gripped her arm. "Double-zero, my pet," he chuckled. "That means another woman." He looked around the circle of excited faces and then beckoned for a dark -haired woman who was near the back of the crowd to come to him. Linda and Larry recognized her as Stella Starman, a woman they had seen in many television plays. She was in her thirties, ten or more years older than Linda, and her eyes lit up as Max indicated that she was to be Linda's partner in her swapping of a double-zero.
The guests formed a circle away from the table and Max came and stood next to Larry as they watched an embarrassed but excited Linda being embraced by this older woman.
"Your wife ever been fucked by a woman before?" Max chuckled. Larry felt sick, and yet the contemplation at what might happen filled him with an eager, if shameful, sensual feeling. He shook his head. "No ... no of course not. I'm sure she has never even thought about such a thing!"
Whether she had or not was beside the point. Linda was certainly not trying to avoid the lewd tongue kiss that Stella was giving her. The two women were kissing passionately mouth to mouth and it was easy to see from the movement of the older woman's jaws that she had her tongue well inside Linda's open lips.
Any resistence or embarrassment that Linda Baxter might have felt was quickly disappearing under the skillful administrations from the experienced Lesbian. Stella Starman was getting her own dress undone at the bodice, getting her large titties free from her nylon bra-cups and then with a deft movement, she had the pretty dress that Linda wore open from the neck to the waist. The pale blue brassiere, so delicately slender, was pushed away from the young woman's tits and the watchers were given the treat of seeing two pairs of large, well-developed, fleshy knockers being pushed and squashed to each other.
Without breaking the hot passion-kiss both women were getting their dresses further down. In a few moments both were down to their underthings, and gradually Stella was moving with Linda in her arms towards the side of the room where a large square shaped rubber-covered mattress was on the floor. The guests formed their circle around the mattress as both women fell down on it in a confused heap. At last, the kiss had to take a brief respite. As the two women leaned away from each other, Larry saw his wife's titties. Never had he seen her nipples so turgid, never so hugely bloated and inflamed.
Without embarrassment, Stella had slipped her panties away and lay with only her nylons and her smart navy-blue girdle adorning her voluptuous body. Linda was hesitant, and then as if making up her mind to throw caution and inhibitions to the wind, she, too, stripped her panties down. Her nylons were flesh colored, held tautly in place by a slender garter belt. A low murmer of horny excitement went through the watchers when they saw Stella delicately place her hand to the younger woman's hairy cunt. Quite without shame, Stella masturbated cleverly and rapidly at Linda's cunt, getting her face to one of the pert breasts while she did so and brought Linda towards an excited state of utter abandoned ecstasy. No doubt most of the guests had seen a Lesbian exhibition before. If they were on the books of Max Meztof and came to his parties, they most certainly had seen and taken part in all manner of perversions, but this was the first time that Larry Baxter had seen two women together in any sort of sex act, and one of the women was his own wife!
Slowly, Stella was moving her face lower down over Linda's heaving tummy. It was evident where the target was to be. A long, drawn-out heart-felt sigh came from Linda as the long experienced tongue of the older woman began to lap and lick along her fuck-hole. Then, like some wild, lewd beast of prey, the near naked figure of Stella Starman knelt between Linda's widely opened thighs and went to work in fast and avid sucking at the warm juice filled cunthole. When, after a few minutes, Stella lifted her face away from the young thighs it was evident to all of the guests that Linda's cunt was open and hotly ready for anything. It was at this moment that Max was pushing his way to the front of the circle. He had gone to the back for a moment or so and his reason was clear now. He had been stripping off, his hunched-back, rather squat and grotesque body was naked, except for the very heavy growth of dark hair that covered most of his flesh. They made way for him as he bent down over the writhing women, his fat hands were at Linda's hips as he knelt down beside her. Larry watched, rooted to the floor. Linda was not minding the old fellow touching her naked belly. He was hoisting her up, getting her on her knees just as he was, but he was making her face turn away from him, making sure that her uplifted asscheeks were directed towards that part of the circle of guests where Larry stood. The young man was amazed and fascinated to see Stella also on her knees beside Linda, she was bending her face to Linda's ass and she was kissing her asshole, licking it, running her fingers along the deep groove between the lovely white asscheeks. She was using her mouth and tongue on the small back hole in the same way as she had on Linda's cunt. For several moments, she continued and when she took her face away from Linda's ass, it could be seen that the asshole was covered in wet slimy saliva and appeared quite inflamed from the constant hard tonguing it had been given.
From beside the mattress, Stella picked up a tube of vaseline. It was when Larry saw her smoothing a great quantity of the grease along the rigid iron-hard fuck-pole that jutted from Max's loins, that he first had any apprehensions at what might be going to happen. He watched the fat hands of Max grip Linda's hips. The old Maltese moved closer to her upthrust ass. There was little change of mistaking now what he was going to do. Larry's jaw dropped, he stared with open mouth, unable to move from fascinated horror. He saw the heavy-domed cock, coated in faseline jabbing at his wife's tight asshole. Larry could see the thick prick actually throbbing, saw the heavy man ease himself forward onto Linda's back. Stella had her fingers to Linda's warm wet pussy and was gently and very cleverly finger-fucking her, making the young woman pant with lust as the heavy dong was slowly gouged up into her rear. A strange expression bordering on pain and ecstasy came to Linda's face, an expression that baffled as well as thrilled her watching husband. She was wriggling her ass, moving her hips, making her ass writhe until all the immense length of Max Meztof s long prick was lost from sight up her rectum.
To Larry's complete amazement and shameful realization, he saw that Linda was actually getting pleasure from vile Max Meztof fucking her anus. The vaseline had made the entry less painful for her and she was letting the naked hairy little monster screw at her bottom with heavy lunges. Her head was tossing from side to side, her expression gave added proof to the pleasure as well as the pain she was getting. Larry saw that her pretty lips were drawn well away from her teeth, her mouth was set in a tight grimace that allowed the watchers to almost to be able to feel the intrusion of that great cock in her tight asshole.
Max was gasping for breath, he managed to raise one arm and beckoned Larry to come closer and Larry moved as though hypnotized. From a range of less than two feet, he saw his wife's asshole enlarged beyond belief to accommodate this huge prick; he saw the heavy dangling balls of the man swinging and slapping against Linda's hairy fat-lipped pussy; he watched as Max drew the prick back, almost clear, then pushed it hard and relentlessly inwards so that not a fraction was left visible. Linda had every inch of the huge dong and in the unnatural shit-hole at that. She was panting like a mad dog, pushing hard back against the hairy loins of the man fucking her ass. Larry stared down at his lovely wife, the mother of their young baby. Here, she was being sodomized, and liking it, panting for more.
Stella Starman leaned lower to get her face alongside Linda's. She whispered something. Larry saw his wife nod, saw her turn her head and look back, not at him, but at the ugly perspiring features of Max Meztof. "Fuck it ... fuck ... fuck it ... fuck my ... asshole ... fuck it ... fuck my ... ass ... fuck my ass ... fuck my ass."
The crowd chuckled and clapped their hands in delight at her outburst. Clearly, it had been the whispering Stella who had put the idea to Linda.
Larry had never heard his wife use 'fuck' before and here she was using it with horny impunity, making it sound as if she really meant it!
The hairy torso of the old Maltese lay along her white back, his hairy arms around her belly, his hips pumping at her so that he was rooting and fucking her ass with the strokes that would surely bring on his orgasm very quickly. Linda was weaving and with her eyes now closed was moaning and mumbling incoherent words. The way she was urging herslef to meet his strokes, the way she writhed and rotated on his cock, it was evident she WANTED him to CUM.
Max Meztof was laying along her back so that his face was close to hers. He looked upwards into Larry's horror-stricken but excitedly flushed face. Max gave a half smile as he pounded away at the naked figure under him. "Your wife wants my sperm, Larry boy," he gasped out, "her belly is begging for it. Can't you see how badly she wants me to shoot my load inside her? It's a great night for her, isn't it? The first time she was cunt-sucked by a woman, the first time she had had a cock in her ass, and, I suspect, the first time she had been fucked by another man at all since she married you, eh?"
Suddenly, the heavy squat body began to convulse. Larry knew the wretch was about to cum if he wasn't already doing so. Linda collapsed under his wild abandoned attack, she was flat on her face and belly as her knees buckled. His cock was pinning her down. Like a pin through a butterfly, she was stuck face downwards on the mattress, his cock her master, his cock spluttering its wet wads of juice up into her bowels. She screamed as she came!
No sooner had their orgasms subsided than all the others were clammering at the wheel. The rubber cock was spinning, time and time again, couples were teaming up as a result of the final swings, men and women, women and women, and just here and there, man with man. Never had Larry seen such goings on. He was not interested in getting a partner, male or female, he was interested in getting his wife away from this beast of a man who had fucked her asshole. Linda, far from being ashamed or horrified at what had been done to her, was twisting her head and shoulders around so that she could get her mouth to the thick ugly lips of the Maltese lecher. Larry watched her kissing the old man with wet tongue kisses, watched her sucking her tongue all over Max Meztof s mouth and chin, kissing his ugly face as if it were the most priceless thing to her and she wanted to pay homage to it with her lips and tongue.
The young husband almost went into a fit with frustrated horror as he heard the old fellow chuckle and murmer to Linda, "You have the softest sweetest mouth my pet. A mouth that was meant for so much more that kissing another mouth, like sucking a man's prick!"
Larry had seen Max wiping the scum-drenched prick with the pair of panties that Linda had discarded. The prick was half erect again already and, with utter disbelief, he watched his wife leaning over the naked Max as he half lay on his side. She was kissing his bow-shaped fat legs, one hand held his prick and it was clear she was trying to get up enough nerve and courage to do what Max had suggested, to take his cock in her mouth, to use her mouth for something other than kissing mouths.
Larry wanted to stop her and yet he knew that Max Meztof would never forgive him if he did. As he waited and watched, he began to lose the desire to stop her; he wanted to see just how far she would go, how she would give in to the temptation to go down on the now rigid cock with her mouth.
She was brushing her tongue along the surface of the prick-head, getting the flavor of it on her tongue, licking it gently. Larry noticed her expression, one of almost insane passion, her eyes were dilated. There must have been something in the drinks to make her behave like this and with such unashamed abandon. She was doing to old Max Meztof something that she had never even done to him. Use her mouth like a cunt on his prick. She was using her tongue tip to trace right around under the sensitive flange of flesh that formed the head of the massive prick. Her pretty face was a mask of devotion to this manly fuck-pole. She was behaving in a way that Larry would never have believed possible. She was almost choking on the length of cock she was trying to take in her mouth and was using her lips for something far more sensual than kissing. She had a wet pool of Max Meztof s sperm in her ass and it seemed more than likely she would be getting a smiliar dosage down her throat.
Larry did not see the eventual shot of cum into his wife's mouth for Stella had collared him, had drawn him away from the mattress on which the Maltese and Linda were lovemaking. She was letting him pet her, getting his own clothing from him until he was as naked as she was. She was a lovely woman, so beautifully, strongly built this Stella Starman. He was looking forward to fucking her. It seemed to be the result of all this petting between them. It was then, when he was naked, that he saw Simon Dane, the long -haired, ex-disc-jockey, who was now featured star in one of the big shows Meztof had found the cast for. Simon was as naked as the day he was born, his hair still long and hanging in waves almost to his skinny shoulders. From his lean loins sprung a long prick, a surprisingly thick affair compared with the rest of his build, and the thick cock was gleaming with grease. It was a well known face in the theatrical world that Simon Dane was a Homo. It now seemed that this point was going to be further proved to Larry Baxter in the one sure way. He was close behind Larry, Stella barred the way in front of the young man so that Larry had to stay where he was. He felt strange bizarre thrills race through him and he hoped no one was watching him. Only Stella could know what was going to happen between the two men. He winced as he felt the tip of the well-greased prick pushing at his asshole. He instinctively bent forward slightly. At the constant pressure of this other man's prick, Larry felt his own dong getting harder. Under the stimulation of Stella's hands and the erotic sensation provided by the other prick at his ass, Larry's own pecker was getting immensely large and thick.
Simon impatiently pushed Stella's hands away from Larry's erect prick and held the straining rod himself. "He's all mine now, sweetie, you leave him alone." Simon chuckled as he eased and pushed until he felt his own cock sliding into the grippingly tight asshole of the young man. He pumped furiously at the cock with his hands as he arched and heaved at Larry's bent buttocks. Slowly and surely, the rectum accepted the thick prick. After the initial insertion, Larry found that he liked the sensation of being filled. It was a terrific feeling to be filled by the prick of a man, he was getting some idea how Linda must have felt with a big cock up her asshole. It was also a most excitingly bizarre sensation to look down at his loins and see another man's hand jerking off at his stiff aching prick. The full filling that was making itself felt from his rear was having the effect of not letting him reach his orgasm too quickly despite the urgent hand-rubbing that was going on down his shaft length. His balls felt heavy and ached with a desire to release their hot load. He saw Stella standing close in front of him, she had her legs well open, her fingers drawing her thick, loose cuntlips well open. She was waiting, waiting for his cock to be jerked off, waiting for the scum that was to jet from him to be guided to her hole.
He closed his eyes in sheer ecstasy, his knees almost bent, he almost collapsed. It was paradise, the hand was jerking him off to a wonderful climax. While he was shooting off his cum, so he was being filled up the shit-hole with a hot, soothing, wet balm.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the evidence of his plentiful cum splattered all on and around Stella's hairy twat. She was soaked with his cum, just as his own bowels and innards were saturated with the wet scalding fluid-juice from Simon Dane's virile prick.
He felt the limp cock being drawn out of him, he saw Stella go off, probably to the bathroom to get a refreshing wash and clean up. He looked around to find out where his wife was now, was she still with old Max Meztof?
She was nowhere to be seen. The living room was nearly empty, most of the others having teamed and coupled up and gone off to convenient befrooms for the rest of the night. Now that he had enjoyed a very badly needed sexual release, all that Larry wanted was to find Linda and get home. He had kept faith with that vile man, Meztof, he had come to the party and brought Linda along as well. They had both been degraded to the point of debauchery, and now he wanted to find her and take her home, take her back to sanity. Take her back to their baby daughter and the nice home they had made together. But, she was not in the living room, he could not tell where she might be. Hurriedly getting his clothes on, he began to search the adjoining rooms.
He found her in one of the upstairs bedrooms. She was not with Max Meztof but with another man, a complete stranger to them before this party. They were on a bed, both naked of course. She had her arms and legs around him gasping and panting as he fucked her. While the action was reaching its peak, she was drawing her lovely legs higher up, getting them, in face around the lover's neck and locking them behind his head as he screwed her with the feverish thrusts of a sex fiend. Neither Linda or her unknown fucker paid any attention to Larry as he came in and moved to the bedside. He looked down to see the huge cock disappearing and re-appearing time and time again in his wife's cunt. God, she was hot for prick. Larry could see his wife's cuntlips stretched and inflamed gripping at the thick stem of the pleasure giving fuck-pole.
Unlike her husband, Linda Baxter was not thinking of going home even though so far she had taken Max' prick up her asshole, sucked him off into her mouth, and this second man was fucking her in the cunt. She had never before known she could reach such depths of degradation and yet adored every moment of her sin pleasures. The way she was feeling now she wanted to go on being fucked all night. And this was the party that Larry had tried so hard not to bring her to! Neither of them ahd known the wicked licentious power of the aphrodasiac powder Max Meztof used in the drinks at his parties, a wickedly powerful sex drug that he got from his own native Malta.
CHAPTER TWO
Irene Bastin was trembling. Well, a happy and respectably married woman doesn't contemplate blatant adultery with any qualms at all. She closed her eyes as if to try and shut out from her mind the horrid, leering face of Max Meztof. True, she had not seen him for several days, only met him twice in her whole life, but since that last meeting, his leering features had been at the forefront of her imagination all the time.
He had called to see her husband. At first, she thought that the man brought good news. She had met him once before when first her husband, Frank, had signed the contract that made Max Meztof his agent. Frank Bastin was a would be comic, he was good, at least she thought he was, and it may have been her biased opinion, but she was sure that with the right bookings and experience he would become a very well-known comedian. When Max had started to be interested, they had both thought that success was just around the corner, just a matter of time, and a short time at that. But after only two shows for Max at halls that were very far from being first rate the agent had called to tell the young man that he no longer wanted to be his agent. He was, in other words, not promising material at all.
Max Meztof had been sorry at first to find Frank not at home when he called, then disappointment changed to lewd apprehension. He was quick to seize on any possibility of any nature that might help to gratify his insatiable sex appetite. Irene Bastin was a pretty girl, not much more than twenty-three, he suspected, most upset at his reason for calling to tell her husband he was not going to continue to help him with bookings. Then, had come the trump card. Perhaps if MRS. Bastin, instead of Mr. Bastin came to see him one evening at his apartment he might change his mind and keep Frank in his agency. He left a startled Irene Bastin alone that afternoon. She never told her husband that the agent had called. She knew that if she wanted to help Frank, wanted to help him stay ambitious and want to get on with good bookings that Max Meztof could get for him, she had to do as the vile man suggested. She had to go and visit him at his London flat.
She knew he wanted her pussy! He would be the only other man since she married Frank if she allowed him to fuck her. She was seldom tempted to even want another man's prick, and certainly not a man as ugly and ungainly built as Max Meztof. Was it worth it? She knew that Frank had set his heart on becoming a well-known comedian, knew he had been overjoyed to get signed on by a man as influential as Meztof. She knew he would be depressed and disheartened if this agent threw him out, she also knew that Frank would be deeply shocked and ashamed of her if he had the slightest idea she was contemplating letting another man touch her, fondle her and eventually fuck her. The thought made her tremble, made her hate herself, and yet she knew she wanted to fuck him to help her husband. This was the only way but if ever Frank found out? She dreaded to think what he would do, what he would say. But he would never find out. Never!
She telephoned Meztof just as he had told her to. Today Frank would be home very late in the evening, he was doing a show at the social club. This evening she could visit Max with safety. He gave her the address over the phone. Now, she must have a bath, make herself up as beautifully as she could . ... and hope for the best.
In the bath she soaped herslef, carefully and tenderly washed her tits, looking down at the lush wholesome fleshiness of her knockers and at the pert, pinkish nipples. She had a good pair of titties, she knew it, she knew how much Frank loved to fondle them. Now she was to allow another man to get pleasure from them. She loved it when her husband played with her titties and made the nipples so hard and sensitive. She wondered if she would respond in the same way when a man like Meztof touched her boobies. She was ashamed at the slight tingle of excitement she felt when she thought of such a thing. She made up her mind on one thing, she would most certainly not have a climax whatever Meztof did to her. She didn't want to get any pleasure from a man like him. He might think he was fucking her cunt as her husband did, but she would deny him as much pleasure as she could. She would not give him the satisfaction of pleasing her with his prick.
It took her an hour to get to the West End and another half hour to find the small dead end street where the agent had his London apartment. He had a drink poured for her and she felt she needed it. She wanted to slap his face when he took her in his fat arms, and yet she knew she had to stifle her revulsion and at least put on a good show for him. He would not be very pleased if she let him see how much she hated having to do this, he might even go back on his word and let her husband to after all. She felt his hands trailing down her back, he was smoothing her dress over her shapely ass as if savoring her shape through it thin fabric. He put his thick lips to her mouth and she was slightly shocked to find that she did not utterly hate his kiss. She felt a tingle of excitement and a feeling akin to sensual pleasure when his thick tongue burst through into her mouth. He was holding her tightly to his body and kissing her with passion. She felt the familiar symptoms in the pit of her tummy, at her cunt. She was stirring with sensual awakening and she had not been in his arms more than two minutes!
She felt his hand descend to her asscheeks. His large thick fingers were fanning across the springy cheeks, gripping, compressing the flesh. He forced her loins even more snugly and intimately against him as she felt his cock growing. He plugged his tongue deeper into her throat and she became more excited than she had intended or thought possible.
Something within her rebelled at the idea of having this man's tongue in her mouth, just as she felt ashamed and dirty at the idea of having his cock in her twat but, and it was a big BUT, she had to admit that his tongue thrilled her, excited her. Would his fuck-pole have the same effect on her?
He led her through into the adjoining room, a small very warmly heated bedroom. He started to undress her, he was deft and quick at the art and soon had her dress unzipped and lowered for her to step out of. Her new, pale-blue half-slip was then pulled down her thighs and now she was in her transparent bra, her soft natural flesh colored panties that were so sheer she knew her pussy showed through. She watched him kneel in front of her to unsnap her garter clips. He caressed her warm inner thighs as he did so. Funny, but Frank had never undressed her like this. Often he lay on their bed watching her take her clothes off for him, but never had he taken an active part such as this old devil was doing now.
The nylon stockings and shoes were soon laying in a discarded heap with her dress and slip. The narrow-stripped garter belt was unhooked and dragged from under her panty leg. He leaned forward and tugged the front of her elasticated waistband of her panties down a few inches and kissed her soft belly. She moaned as she felt his hot breath so close to her twat. When he stood up he caressed her pantied ass, looking deeply into her eyes to watch her reactions and her responses. It was when he removed her bra and fondled her titties that she really showed from her facial expressions just how turned on he was getting her.
"Get on the bed, Mrs. Bastin," his voice was so matter-of-fact, "while I get my clothes off."
She watched him stripping off his clothes. She had guessed he was one of those hairy type of men. He was covered in crisp dark hair but she was not staring at the thick matting on his broad chest as he faced her, but at the thick repulsive looking cock that reared from his loins. She found she couldn't take her eyes from his prick, found she was laying back saying words that she would not have believed she was capable of saying to anyone excpet her husband. She wriggled and twisted as she pushed her panties down, "Fuck me ... please ... don't make me wait." Was it her voice? Was she saying this sort of lewd thing to this grinning old man?
He was on the bed with her, helping her get the panties right down and off ... he was getting his face to her tits, first he sucked at the right titty, then at the left. Both nipples were soon aroused, both breasts swollen with her aching desire.
She closed her eyes. She must try and pretend it was Frank, make believe it was her husband she was with, and yet she was being aroused and stimulated in a far more abandoned fashion that she ever was with Frank. She reached down to find his dong and gripped it. The prick was large and very hard and she felt it throbbing but she wanted it to throb elsewhere, not in her hand. She lifted her asscheeks and tried to pull him over on top of her, tried to guide this fine pecker towards her waiting pussy.
Never would she have believed it! Here she was trying to urge the prick of another man into her cunt. She gasped. He was heavy and he was on top of her, she gave a little moan as he stuck it in her. She felt her cunt muscles working on his cock-shaft as he sank his stomach against her belly. He was in her, right in her twat. He was humping at her, steady yet fast and urgent strokings. It felt more wondrous than she would have dreamed possible. She groaned, gasped, cried and gave little moaning screams now and again as he fucked her. She lifted her legs and locked them about his back. This was to have been the screw that she would not let herself climax no matter what!
She knew from the way she was feeling now that no power on earth would stop her from aiming either before or when this virile brute had his own climax in her. He had brought his hands up under her back to clutch at her shoulders from behind her as he held her and hammered away in her pussy with his cock. She finished squealing and rotating herslef hard against him, her cunt muscles working on his dick like a moist velvet-gloved hand of many fingers. His strokes became harder and suddenly violent and then he was spluttering out his wet hot scum in her. He literally growled at her while he was shooting and she thought he was never going to stop the hot gushes. She didn't want him to stop, she wanted him to go on cuming in her cunt.
He fell forward, guiding his face to her tis, and taking her turgid nipple into his lips. She stroked the back of his head. What if Frank could see her now? What would he think of his loving wife? She didn't want to think about her husband, one, from the point of view of her shame, and two, from the point of view that she had just had one of the best and strongest cums of her whole life, and it had not been with her husband! It had been with this elderly, ugly, squat agent called Max Meztof.
Half an hour after the mutual climaxes, she was going down on the fat cock of her lover, not because he forced her to or what he might have done if she had refused. But, she did not want to refuse, she wanted to suck his prick, to pay homage to the cock that had given her so much pleasure. When she had made his dong stiff and firm again she sat on his heavy limb and he stuck the huge prick in her twat. He had made her shudder to her second climax before letting his hot fluid gush in her again. Afterwards as she lay in his arms, she hardly knew what to answer when he muttered, "I shall see you again of course, my dear Mrs. Bastin, won't I?"
He was not threatening her, not trying to bribe her again, just asking her as if he knew that she did not want to refuse. He made her move her arm so that she could reach his limp damp prick in her hand and massage it. She willingly caressed the warm length of cock. He leaned closer to her, "You love cock too much to be good and true to just one man, my dear," he muttured and she was half inclined to believe him.
"What time will Frank be home?" he asked. "Not until midnight, I think," she told him. He looked at the watch on the bedside table. "Another three hours yet my dear. How would you like some more prick before then, eh?"
He felt her fingers tighten on his pecker as she massaged him. That was her answer, but she was missing the point. He gripped her wrist and made her relinquish his half-erect fuck-pole.
"Not mine again, Mrs. Bastin," he smiled at her, "I mean with another man. How would you like to fuck another man before you go home?"
The words horrified her and yet at the same time stimulated her. She had been more than ready and willing to let him screw her again, but he was suggesting she take the prick of another man in her cunt. He slid his hand to her warmly wet cunt and fingered her gently, she arched at his palm and opened her knees wider. 'There, there," he chuckled, "you see, you want some more cockie don't you? Want some more really badly?"
He pulled her up from the bed. "Get your clothes on my pet," he beamed. "I know a little bar near here where we might strike gold. Come on honey. You are going to start to live!"
The booth was meant for two, but at the moment three figures were crowded in the seat and one of those was far from being small, it was Max Meztof. The other man was almost as portly and about the same age; between the two elderly gentlemen was the squashed and slightly tipsy Irene Bastin. It was a small bar just as Max had said, dim lighting, secluded booths, distant sound of soft-piped music. For the last ten minutes this man whom Max had introduced to her as Mr. Slessinger, had been feeling up under her dress. Not a single inch of her nyloned thighs from her knees upwards had escaped his wandering caressing fingers.
She was letting Slessinger kiss her, her mouth opened slightly to admit his thickish tongue. She didn't know for sure just why she was behaving like this. She had more drink than she could safely take and the fucks she had enjoyed so much with Meztof had made her want more. She slid her arm up about the fat neck of her new companion while Max Meztof pressed closer to her and encouraged her to give his friend a rub of his cock. Max had his face close to theirs, he saw that their tongues were mingling juicily. In the seclusion of the booth, the fat body of Meztof seated on the outside prevented anyone from seeing what the girl and the other elderly gent were doing and Slessinger moved one short fat leg over her nearest thigh and Leaned harder against her.
Despite the closeness and confined space he was managing to get her to lean back so that she was sprawled instead of sitting, he was trying to lean on top of her, his right hand caressing her broad thigh, his left hand at her tits, fondling, feeling, thrilling and exciting her. As if any more naughty stimulation was required to arouse the young woman, Max Meztof leaned across his friend's back to get his hands to Irene's belly. He stroked her, caused her tummy to heave and throb. Blatantly, the right hand of Slessinger cupped her cunt through her clothing as Meztof was trying to flick the front of her dress high up. It was then that a noisy crowd of drinkers moved into the small bar and the two lechers had to loosen their hold on the willing girl, had to make themselves more respectable. Irene felt a deep sense of regret. She nodded quite agreeably when Meztof whispered to her, "You want to fuck again, don't you honey?"
Under the table, Slessinger was making her rub her hand over the huge protrusion at the front of his trousers. It felt to her that he was made like a stallion, his trousered cock felt immensely strong and throbbing. They finished their drinks quickly, and got up to move from the bar. The short ride in a taxi back to Meztof s apartment did not take long, long enough however for Irene to be persuaded to open the fly of the horny Slessinger and toy with his prick. Reluctantly, the old fellow had to stop her hands, to wait until they got to the apartment or he would have spoiled his own, and her pleasure, by shooting his load right there in the taxi. For the second time that evening, Irene Bastin went into Max' small bedroom in the London apartment. This time she was accompanied by not one man but two, both honry and hot, ready to enjoy her lush, sexy twat.
Frank Bastin hated these Social club affairs. The money was poor and he only took the dates to keep his moral up as shen he had long periods with no shows at all he felt like giving up his ideas of ever becoming a top line comic. He was hoping for big things now that Meztof had taken him on his books. Big man, this Max Meztof. If any agent could help him it was this well-established and well-connected Maltese. He was glad that he had been first on at the club, now he could get home earlier than expected. It was while he was waiting for a taxi near Victoria Station that he saw another of the young men on Meztof's books, Larry Baxter. He had met him several times when they had been on the same show together through the Meztof bookings. The two aspiring, stage-struck young men were pleased to see each other, happy to go and have a drink together and discuss their mutual interests in the stage.
It was as they moved to the counter of the small bar to get their order that Larry felt his companion suddenly freeze. He was stock still as if he had been paralyzed. Larry followed the direction that Frank was looking, down the long narrow bar to the end where the small secluded booths were situated. There, squatting on the outside of the seat was the unmistakable figure of their agent. Max Meztof was in that booth with another elderly man, a young woman between them. Without being told, Larry guessed the reason for his friend's sudden seizure. That young woman being petted by the two men must be Frank's wife. He gripped the young comic's arm, restraining him from doing anything rash. "Come on, Frank," he was urging them back towards the door through which they had just entered. "Leave them alone, if you break up their little party now you can kiss goodbye to any more show bookings that Meztof can get you, and he will very likely put the poison in with the other agents as well. Besides, she doesn't seem to be raising any objections herself does she?"
Frank could have killed Larry for speaking like that about Irene, and yet it was true. She was kissing and being kissed by that other old fellow while Meztof kept watch. Stunned into almost hypnotized, trance-like condition, Frank let his friend take him out of the bar. They were both standing in the shadows of the building when a noisy crowd filed past them into the bar, a few moments later Irene, between the two old gents, came out of the bar, their little feeling and smooching game interrupted by the arrival of the noisy drinkers. They watched the strange threesome get into a taxi. It was a good guess that they were heading for Meztof s London apartment, and that was where Frank Bastin also headed as soon as he could detach himself from the restraining company of Larry Baxter.
He knew the place, he had been there more than once when he was negotiating with Meztof about the agreement. He knew there was a metal fire-escape running up the back of the building, a small platform outside every window. He knew that Meztof s bedroom was on the third floor and it took him but a few moments to find the foot of the escape and mount upwards to the third platform. The window was open at the top, but he was not able to see through the drawn curtains. Up here above the street, all was deathly quiet? if he put his ear to the lower part of the window frame he could hear what was taking place in the room, even the heavy breathing was audible to him and then the sound of a man's voice. It was not Meztof speaking, he knew the old agent's tone of voice so well, so it must be the other man, the stranger....
"I'm going to fuck you, my honey, until you can hardly walk," he heard the stranger mutturing.
"Yes ... yes darling ... I want you to ... I want you to fuck me, my darling." There was no mistaking that voice, it was Irene, his wife speaking in a way most unusual for her usual modest sexual vocabulary. Frank tried to stop himself from shaking as he heard his wife speaking like a whore to a strange man. He was white with anger, with disgust; he gripped the sill of the window to steady himself. No one was speaking in the room now.
Only the heavy uneven breathing. He wished he could see into the room but the curtains fitted across too well, he wondered what was happening. Was Irene naked? Was the old man naked, or were both men still with her? Was she on the bed? Were they all on the bed? Was she on top of the old man or was he on top of her? Now, the heavy breathing had given way to a squirching, squelching sound, too wetly noisy for a normal kiss. Then, he knew that was happening from the way Irene was panting and moaning, from those slurpy sucking sounds. He knew that the man had his mouth to her cunt, that his wife was being sucked by another man, an elderly stranger!
Her moans were becoming more intense, her soft cries of pleasure more lewd and suggestive of just what depths of sensuality she was sinking to. He heard the sound of movement on the bed. The springs creaked a little and then the sound of the man's coarse voice panting and gasping for breath and then it was Meztof speaking, "She's got the sweetest mouth, hasn't she Slessinger?" The old agent was mutturing, "A pretty mouth meant especially to suck thick pricks, hasn't she?"
Both men laughed. Outside on the metal platform the young husband gripped the window sill harder in his intense anger, in his mind's eye he could see his lovely wife with her lips enclosed over the ugly head of that old man's prick. It was too much for him to stand, he had reached breaking point. He drew back his fist to smash the window and in his energetic efforts stepped back too far. He feverishly grabbed at the sill but it was too narrow to hold as he fell back. Greedily Irene sucked the hot steaming juice from the heavy, fleshed cock in her mouth unaware that from that moment on she was a widow. Three floors down, spread flat on the year, her young husband lay. Even as he fell into oblivion his mind was still seeing visions of his lovely wife with her mouth covering the prick of a strange and old man. Even as life left him as he hit the hard cement, his cock squirted from his aroused passions at his mental visions. His sperm flowed from his stiff prick at the exact moment that Irene was gobbling the juice from the fine virile stem of old Slessinger's cock.
CHAPTER THREE
Stella Starman looked at the young woman who had come to stay with her for a while. It had been their mutual 'friend' Max Meztof who had made the arrangements. After the untimely, sad death of her husband, Irene Bastin had been almost demented with grief and remorse. She had welcomed the suggestion that she move out of her house for a while and stay with a friend of Max's. The friend proved to be the Lesbian, Stella Starman, who was overjoyed to have a young pretty wife come and stay with her.
Seated on the soft couch in her very comfortably furnished apartment, Stella made the young widow welcome. Several heady cocktails were served while Irene unburdened her soul to the sympathetic older woman. It seemed such a natural thing for Stella to do, to slide her arm around Irene's shoulders. It seemed almost as natural for her to ease her face close to the young woman's. Irene gave a start as she felt the pressure of Stella's hand at the back of her head, she was being kept still while the made-up lips of the woman descended to her own. It was a soft tender kiss, the first kiss that Irene had had since Frank's death.
Their lips parted as the two women looked at one another. Irene's head was swimming, the combination of the cocktails, of the relief at being able to talk to another woman about her brief, and now this tender subtle kiss, it was all too much for her. She felt dizzy. She didn't feel offended at being kissed by this woman, she felt strangely stimulated, had the desire to talk more intimately to her, to make a real close friend of this understanding woman of the world.
Several more times they kissed then the talking grew more spasmodic and the kissing more frequent. Irene was surprised when Stella stood up and started to unzip her skirt and slide it down while she watched. With the skirt discarded the older woman sat back again on the couch, her loins tightly pantied in a pair of almost transparent lilac panties. She smiled as she took Irene's hand and drew it towards her pelvis, she made the younger woman feel all around her quite ample belly and pulled her palm to rub directly along that part of her panties that covered her hairy pussy.
She held the slim wrist so that Irene had her hand cupping the fleshy and hairy twat through the thin covering of the nylon panties. Stella smiled at her startled, but excited companion. "I want to help you forget your own personal worries and tragedy, my sweet," she said softly. "That's why Max sent you to stay with me, you know!"
Irene nodded numbly. Stella was leaning with her face alongside Irene's. "Do you like feeling a woman where she is all hot and horny, darling," Stelly murmured. The words thrilled Irene, she nodded, her excitement was real, this was a new pleasure for her.
"Why not take your dress off, my pet," Stella coaxed the flushed young widow. Irene was uncertain just what all this was leading to. She accepted another cocktail that Stella poured but she was still undecided, still hesitant. Stella laughed at her display of modesty, she stood up and quickly took off her blouse and bra and right in front of Irene's face she lifted her large titties and massaged them, knowing that the sight of another woman's knockers being handled and given pleasure would further excite her new friend. It was easy now to help Irene get her dress off, her bra too, and then her pretty underslip. With only her nylons, panties and garter belt remaining, Irene looked at Stella. She was clad in scanties and now she was slowly pushing her panties down while giving Irene a close-up view of the striptease.
Irene found herself staring at the very hairy pussy that was being exposed as Stella slid the panties further down. Stella put her hands to Irene's face and squeezed playfully, "Do you like looking at another woman's cunt darling?" she asked quietly. "Does it give you a naughty feeling to see the hairy twat of another woman? The hairy twat where men love to push their big, ugly pricks? Look my pet, can you see how wet my cunt is? How moist all the lip flesh is? Is your pussy wet and hot, darling?"
Irene nodded. She had seldom felt so horny and excited and certainly she hadn't felt sexy in the least since she lost her husband. "Yes ... yes Stella," she replied, her voice trembling. "I do feel wet and hot down in my cunt. I haven't felt like this for ages!"
"I think I know what you want, my pet," Stella patted Irene's face and then turned towards the closed door. "You can come in now, Jake," she called. "I think our young widow is ready for you."
Irene gazed at the door as it opened. This was a most unexpected turn of events! Into the room came a man, a tall, well-built man. He was black and he was naked. He stood framed in the doorway and Irene couldn't take her eyes from his prick. He was immense! At first, she had been shocked at the realization that Stella was calling a man into the room while they were both in this state of near nakedness. Now, she was staring avidly at his huge cock, unable to think of anything else, no shame, no remorse, just a wild desire that this woman had started and now it seemed this colored giant was to complete her fuck.
Jake came close enough to the couch for her to be able to stretch her hand to him. At the soft coaxing of Stella, she held his rigid cock, never had she known a prick could be so hard, so thickly bold and lust-throbby. It was so close to her, so on a direct level with her face. She leaned forward more and her mouth opened. It was all she could do to get the fat girth of the purplish cock-head into her lips. Seated close by, Stella watched the young widow becoming more and more hot, saw her throat muscles tighten and relax as her jaws screwed and stretched so tantalizing! He pushed her back roughly, Stella gripped her shoulders and made her lay fully back while the black man got her panties down. Irene gasped and cried with pain and pleasure as the sturdy wet dong-shaft dug into her cunt depths. He held her hips to keep her still and Stella was 'milking' her tits to keep her excited as the immense prick was rammed to the core of her cunt. This negro was like a machine, so huge, so unrelenting in the steady in and out rhythm.
He was keeping his stomach lifted off her belly and Stella was lifting the back of her head so she could look down between her thighs and see that massive black fuck-pole jabbing at her twat. It was a new thrill for her to see as well as feel herself being fucked, to see that great ebony rod sinking into her belly, to know that all that glistening length of prick that showed when he drew back was sunk deeply into her every time his loins descended to hers. She screamed as she climaxed, almost passed out when she had her second crisis as he spermed heavily into her after a few more lusty strokings. Stella Starman and Jake had performed well for their boss, Max Meztof. They had proved to the unhappy demented young widow that whatever else she felt about the sudden tragic death of her husband, she could not do without this. She had to have cock, and now this truth had been brought home to her. Max Meztof was the man to see that she was given all the prick that was good for her.
The Maltese agent was very good at placing young promising actors and stage struck youths and lassies, but he was even more experienced at 'placing' young attractive women who needed far more sex than they would normally be getting if left to their own resources.
In his very private files in his office, he already had the names of a dozen or so 'clients' waiting for the privilege of taking the young widow away for a sexy week-end and the name of an Arabian procurer who would pay well for her in about a year's time when the clients of Meztof had had their fill of her cunt. Once she was passed to the Arab, she would be set for distant lands, to the brothels of Turkey or Egypt. It had proved a very bad decision of her late husband to try and prevent her from being fucked by Meztof and old Slessinger. If he had left well alone and done as Larry Baxter suggested, go home and wait for her, all might have been well. As it was now, she was destined for a year of continual fuckings, helping Max Meztof to become even more wealthy, and then to lands far away and pricks of many different colors. That was to be her destiny from now on and even Frank, her loving deaprted husband with the aspirations to become a great comic, would not have found anything very laughable in this sad predicament.
The news of the death of Frank Bastin had unnerved Larry Baxter to a very great extent. He was never sure if the young comic had been pushed to his death or if it had been an accident, which was what the official verdict stated. One thing was for sure, though, this fiend, Max Meztof, would stop at nothing to get and to have what he wanted. It was a fear and a frantic apprehension that filled the young man's heart this evening when Max had taken him and Linda out to dinner. Now, they had all three of them come back to their house. They had a few more drinks and now the two men stood in the doorway of the bedroom where Linda had at last retreated when she felt the drink taking hold of her.
She looked lovely and desirable in that tight fitting, pale-yellow sheath dress. "My God Larry," the old agent muttured, "your wife is looking very beautiful tongight." He moved into the room towards her. Larry saw Linda back away from the old fellow, she was against the bed edge. The fat arm of the man was around her waist, and he was kissing her, a lusty bruising kiss. Larry did not intervene. He leaned against the door, watching one of the hairy hands reach to the neckline of his wife's new dress. With an impatient gesture, Max dragged the sheath dress downwards. He saw his wife clutch at the dress but it was no use. As the dress dropped lower, she put her hands to her titties but with a lewd chuckle, the old man was dragging her wrists downwards, and then continued to get the tight sheath down enough for it to drop to the floor. His hands returned to the upper part of her lovely torso. The thin straps of her bra were gripped by his fingers, the straps dragged down over her shoulders and his fingers reached behind her to undo the catches and then drag the bra right away from her. Again her hands clutched as protectors of her titties. The old man looked around at Larry and grinned, "Just look at your pretty wife trying to play all modest and shy my boy," he chuckled. "She knows what she wants.
You know and so do I that she wants her titties chewed, wants her nipples made solid and large by my mouth."
Linda trembled, keeping her hands to her naked boobs, she was unable to stop him from feeling her pantied ass with lewd obscene touchings. His hands were so hot she could feel the heat through the thin sheen of her panties. Then he was easing the panties down. Now, she had on only her nylon hose and the very narrow garter belt! He stood back from her and started to undress, when he was naked both husband and wife stared at his massive prick. For his age and build, he was strangely huge, immense, a monstrosity. Larry could see how his wife was lewdly fascinated by the old man's massive sexual tool. It was when that massive prick sank into her wet welcoming fuck-hole that Larry went from the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He would leave them to fuck as often as they wanted to. He didn't want to finish up like that young fool, Frank Bastin!
Part Two
CHAPTER ONE
The small living room of the home of Tom and Edna Raven literally shook under the almost simultaneous shrill scream of the siren and the blash from an exploding bomb that had landed not many houses away. It was another afternoon raid by the German planes on London, and hardly waiting to put down the cup of tea she had been drinking, Edna rushed from the room to the passage and the back door and across the few yards of garden to the half sunken Anderson Shelter in which she would at least be safe from all but a direct hit.
With her was a grey -haired man, who was as feverishly hurrying to get to the shelter as she was. Eric Small had very good reason to hurry, he was already a victim of the viscious air raids that London was suffering. Less than a month ago his own home had been demolished, his wife killed and all his belongings lost forever. That was why he was staying with Edna. She was his sister. Quite a few years younger than he was, her husband, Tom was already called up in the Army and was at present somewhere in the country undergoing his training.
Edna let the blanket fall back into place over the low doorway of the shelter as soon as her brother had followed her in. She had been trying to find somewhere in the country to go and stay to get away from these wretched air raids when the tragedy had happened to her brother's family. The least she could do when her sister-in-law had been killed was to offer to take in Eric and his son, Paul, who was fifteen and already working as an apprentice at a local factory turning out armaments. With her own husband away, she had welcomed having company to live in the lonely house. If it was not for these awful air raids she would not have minded staying in London even though most of her friends had evacuated away to safer areas.
Outside, they could hear the sound of gunfire, now and again the scream of a bomb coming from the sky and the continual low humming of the planes that seemed always to be overhead and neigher approaching or leaving. Poor Eric ... she felt his trembling as he sat close beside her on the low bunk that ran down one side of the low shelter. He was ten years older than she was. Even as a boy, it had been Eric who was the bold one, the brave one, now at the age of forty, he seemed a broken man. She was only thirty but she felt motherly towards him. To have lost his wife under such tragic circumstances was enough to send any man out of his head. She felt sad enough being parted from her husband and he was not dead but simply away training with the Army. She had her arms around her brother's hunched shoulders to help him to be brave and stand up to the fear that gripped him. Having been in one smashed home the tension during similar raids must be awful for him. He had his face down close to her large, well-formed titties, his mouth was open and he was making low gurgling sounds as he went through the motions of sucking at her huge knockers. A tremor of disgust went through her. Her own brother! What did he think he was doing? Then, as his whimpering went on and his mouth moved more fiercely she realized that he hardly knew what he was doing, he was partly demented. More intense termbles shook her as his mouth continued at her sweater-covered breasts. The last time she had felt such exciting sensations had been many weeks ago on her husband's last leave. Slowly, and trying not to disturb her brother's face, she eased her sweater out of her skirt waistband and hoisted it upwards. Her fingers trembled as she carefully and slowly pulled her fingers inside her bra cups and got them free from her white mounds. Now her brother's hot face was in direct contact with her bare flesh as his whimpering increased. Outside, the crescendo of the raid also grew more fierce but Edna was less concerned with this particular raid than any previous one, even though this one was very loud and bombs were dropping close to the house.
She stroked Eric's head as he fastened his lips to her tightening nipples, his right hand on her bare mid-belly, stroking her in a way that no sister expects to be touched by her older brother at any time of their life and least of all when they reach the age of thirty and forty and are both married! He toyed with her belly-button, his fingers trembled and this added to the sensual feeling he was giving her. She knew he must be missing his poor wife just as she was missing Tom. She slid her arms about his neck and pulled him up from her neck. It was a natural reflex as their faces came close together but it was a kiss that was far from natural for a brother and sister. She felt his tongue in her mouth, wanted it there, wanted to be kissed like this.
With the blanket drawn across the low doorway of the shelter not very much light was allowed in and now that it was getting dusk it was almost dark in the small space. Edna was glad of the cover of darkness as she let her hand slide down to the front of her brother's trousers. She was not surprised to feel that he had a huge hard-on and as soon as she got the buttons undone she eased his long, thick prick out from the restricting underpants. As she gripped his throbbing cock-shaft, she felt the sensual tremors go up her wrist and arm. She knew it was wrong on both their parts to be petting in this lewd fashion, brother and sister, in the darkness and closenss of the garden Anderson Air Raid Shelter. Yet, she felt compelled to continue her own thrills, to fondle her brother's dong, to give him thrills that he had been lacking now for so many weeks. Eric didn't see his sister bending her head down to him, but he felt her hot breath on his prick-head just a fraction of a second before her warm lips closed over the head of it. Dear Edna, his ever-loving young sister, she must be feeling so sorry for him. She was doing her best to give him some small happiness, helping him forget the fear he felt at the raids, doing something to him that in all his years of marriage his own wife had never done-suck his pecker. His sister was going down to him of her own accord. He felt her warm wet tongue wrapping itself around the sensitive head of his prick. She was licking as well as sucking at the heavy flange of cock-flesh. Almost to the brink of shooting his load, her sweet mouth fetched him, then his hands gripped her shoulders. He drew her up from his lap and did not recognize his hoarse voice as he muttered to her, "Kneel on the bunk Sis." His hands were feeling up under her skirt as she knelt alongside him, his fingers dragged at the damp crotchpiece of her panties and he was dragging her across him to straddle his lap. He felt her resist, she was trying not to be pulled to him. He could not, would not force her. Surely, she had done enough already to help him forget his abject fear of the raids. His hands were still fondling her asscheeks. His fingers kept the panties drawn aside out of the way; gradually he felt her ass begin to writhe, to twist, she was arching back towards him of her own accord now. He shifted his position so that it was easier for her to find his upthrust prick, lift was slightly off target, his cock-head jabbed against the smaller opening of her asshole. She tried to life herself and rehoist her cunt on to his cock so that he found her pussy, but his hands held her asscheeks in a grip that was severe enough to hurt her and he thrust up at her asshole.
He hoped that her husband had never fucked her this way. It would be so enthrallingly lustful to fuck her lovely ass and be the first man to do so. She was very tight there. Surely, he was the first to stick his cock up her asshole. She was not trying to avoid his unnatural approach now. She grapsed, "Be careful, I've never been fucked this way before," was music in his ears. So, he WAS the first to screw her anus and she was not objecting. Slowly, inch at a time, he edged into the tight ring of flesh. She was wriggling, heaving and pushing back at him to do all she could to help his prick up her ass, and suddenly, he was in! In her seven years of marriage to Tom, they had never fucked in this form of love-making. Her elderly brother was the first to fuck her asshole, to commit sodemy with her. He wished it was not so dark in the shelter, he would have liked to see her face. He knew she was squatting on his cock, her back to him, her head hanging down low as he gripped her hips and drew her down and back further on to his dick.
He felt her rectum membranes tighten and relax, tighten and loosen, her tight sphincter muscles held his cock in a vice-like grip and she gave a series of frenzied gasps of pain and pleasure as he began to joggle under her, making her 'ride' his cock saddle. His arms were wrapped around her tightly, brother and sister were joined in the most unholy of love-holds. His hand eagerly slipped down between her thighs, her glistening wet hot cunt was open and waiting for his pleasure-giving fingers. He found her clitoris large and stubby and very wet. He massaged it with a-savage fury between his thumb and first finger and knew that this would induce her to cum and he was not wrong. Within a few seconds, she was panting to him, "Eric, Eric my darling brother, you're making me cum, I'm nearly there, oheeeeee! Eric ... I'm there ... I'm doing it ... I'm cuming ... cuminggggggg!"
He felt the juice that was spilling to his hand become of a more wetter hotter muscous. She was cuming alright, cuming and cuming as if she was never going to stop. He massaged her very swollen clitty with her own cum juices as he finger and ass-fucked her with the heavy urgent jabs of a man who was himself very close to the sublime moment of ecstasy. A few more ardent rammings and he was giving his sister his hot sperm into her bowels. Somehow, with his cock still a prisoner in her anus, she swivelled around to get her arms around his neck. She kissed him with an ardent loving tonguing. "Darling ... my darling brother ... that was wonderful ... wonderful darling!"
The all-clear sireen had sounded but they had not heard it. It was the voice of Paul, Eric's son, calling from the kitchen that eventually brought them out of the shelter. The boy had come home from the factory and wanted his tea. The boy didn't know that his father and Aunty had been having their 'food' in the shelter.
CHAPTER TWO
It was a very unhappy Edna Raven who made her way up to bed. Her husband had finished his training, a short twenty four hour leave with her, and now he had gone. To a destination abroad, that was the only sure thing she knew. Just where abroad he might be serving, she didn't know, and to make matters worse, Eric her brother, had been taken ill. A sudden relapse, a delayed shock action from his bombing experience and the loss of his wife, as well as the fucking with his sister in the air raid shelter had all helped to give the unfortunate man a breakdown. On the same day that Tom Raven went off to play his more active part in the war, Eric was being taken to the hospital by ambulance. It was a sad house. She passed the door of the bedroom that her brother had been sharing with Paul. The fifteen year old boy was already in the room, and he was weeping.
Edna felt more sorry for her nephew than she did for herself. Poor boy, his mother killed in a raid, his father away in the hospital, it was a good thing she was there to take care of him.
She opened his bedroom door meaning to go in and comfort him before going to her own room. She didn't bother to knock, and as she stood in the open doorway she saw that he was in the final stages of undressing, almost naked. She felt herself blushing as he looked up at her unexpected entrance.
"Hello, Aunty, I didn't hear you coming," he too was a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry I'm crying, I feel so unhappy. I don't want to bother you, you are so kind to me and Dad, but I ... I .. feel so miserable."
She held him in her arms, ashamed at the waves of sensual tingling that she felt from embracing his near naked form to her own body. She was sorry for him, desperately sorry and wanted to help him, wanted to show him that although he was literally without either parent he was not alone. "Would you like me to stay with you tonight Paul?" Her voice was low, she had not intended to be so blunt, but the words had come out suddenly. Her own thoughts were put into words.
She felt him tremble. "Oh, Aunty, if only you would! I dread laying along and trying to get to sleep. I'd lay awake for hours. I am sure I shall be so much happier if you are with me."
He kept his eyes averted from her as she started to undress, she was not going to bother about going to her own room to get her nightdress. She didn't want to wear a nightie if she was going to sleep in her nephew's bed. She climbed in between the sheets and held them up for him to slither in beside her. He had taken a lead from her and not put on his pajamas. He lay alongside her, but not close enough for their bodies to actually touch. It was almost an accidental movement as he lay on his side and his hand touched her hip. They lay facing one another and she edged a few inches closer to him. His head was level with her shoulder and she slid her arm around his neck, lifting her hand to place her palm at the back of his head. Gently and yet firmly, she drew his head down and forward until his face brushed against her womanly tits. She maneuvered his head so his face pressed into the soft fleshy orb, his mouth against her nipple. She hoped that he could follow the most natural instinct in the world when a woman's nipples are at his lips and the youth fell for the bait. He gently kissed the very large stub of the titty tip, making her moan with a pleasure that she had certainly not expected tonight, or for many future nights either.
Paul felt the stubby, fleshy nipple in his mouth becoming harder and was amazed at the way it was growing. He knew it was a result of the way he used his lips and his tongue, and he knew that he was giving his aunt a great deal of pleasure with his inexperienced sucking. She did not have to hold his head for him to keep his face to her breast, he wanted to suck her tits. He enjoyed the tender petting as much as she did as her hand stroked his head, his cheeks, as she moaned low and continually.
Her voice was throaty and she was panting slightly as she gasped, "Paul ... Paul, my darling nephew, suck my other breast, thrill my other tittie for me, darling boy!"
He did not need a second invitation as he greedily got his wet mouth over the comparatively small nipple of the unsucked breast and went to work fiercely on the nipple to make it swell to the size of the other one. It was his turn to gasp as he felt her other hand wander down his naked stomach. She was searching for his prick! For the first time in his life, the hand of another person was to hold his cock and it was the experienced hand of his married Aunty. She felt his dong begin to get hard the moment she clasped his rod in her warm fingers.
He was a well-hung boy, had a good cock on him, like his father, the naughty wicked thought raced through her excited brain. Paul was leaning more across her now to make himself more comfortable with his face to her titty. In his movements, his hand brushed across her belly and his fingers eased through the thick foliage of her pussy hair. She was relieved that his hand stayed at her cunny. If he had not felt her gash, she would have gripped his wrist and MADE him feel her cunt. She sighed as the nimble fingers began to explore her slit and sensed his own excitement, his own lack of knowledge at just what to do as he fingered her loose wet fleshiness. She knew it was wrong, terribly wrong, but she could not help herself. She had her hand, that had been stroking his face, around his waist, she was using all her strength to heave him up and over her as she sidled beneath his body. She had him on top of her as she spread her legs and he flopped down in between her thigh on his knees.
His cock was as hard as iron. She kept one hand around his prick as she spread her wet cunt lips with the fingers of her other hand. She arched at him, drawing his young cock to her as she did so. She felt the hot head of his prick touching her clitty just as she made an adjustment to the angle of her cunt, then the hot rod slid into her wet boiling pussy, inwards more, another two .. three inches.
She saw he had his eyes closed. She too closed her eyes, she could not look at anything, anyone, least of all her young nephew as she made him fuck her. This was incest of almost the worst order. She was a married woman, the boy's aunt. He was but fifteen, yet his large cock was male, her cunt was female, nothing else mattered at this precise moment.
The boy, too, was having his pangs of guilt. This was his father's sister, his Aunty, the woman who had been so kind to him and Dad since Mother died, and here he was in bed with her, fucking her, something that he knew only her own husband should ever do to her. Yet, it was wonderful, the most excruciatingly wonderful experience he had even known. He was well inside her cunt, it felt so hot, so slithery and wet, like a velvet hand was clutching at his cock tightly and moving back and forth down it's aching stem. It was a delirious sensation and yet it was so wrong, so wicked, he had to get off her, let her sleep in his bed for company but they must not screw. He tried to pull back but as he moved her hands grabbed at his naked asscheeks. She began to jerk and rise beneath him, causing his cock to ram and slide with even more heated, piston-like strokes in her hot wonderful hole.
He looked down into her face. It was screwed up in what he thought was anquish but was later to learn was a woman's expression of utter lustful enjoyment. She was panting and still working her belly up and down under him. Suddenly, he had to respond, he had to ram away at her, to meet her upward heaves with heavy slams down with his own strong young stomach. He had to lurch at her hot innards with his cock, to get even deeper into her. She gave a scream and for an awful moment he thought he had hurt her. Then, she was clutching at him with arms and legs, heaving and tossing under him until for a few brief seconds, she was taut and still. She collapsed as the only drawn wheeze of air escaped from her opening and closing mouth. He was yet to learn that this was the action of a woman having her climax, he had made his married Aunt cum, and cum with the most heavenly orgasm that she would never forget.
He masturbated frequently but the warmth grip of her cunt was like a hand that jerked at his cock with strokes that made it most urgent for him to shoot his juice. As he tried to get some sort of rhythm into his fucking he felt the hot fluid begin to move from his balls. He knew it would soon shoot up his pipe. The wet sticky sperm that he usually caught in his hanky would be loose and injected into his Aunt's pussy but he couldn't stop it. He knew that she didn't want him to even try. She clung to him in an impassioned lust grip as he emptied his young balls in her womanly womb. At that moment of ecstasy they both realized that while the boy's father remained in the hospital and her husband was away in the army, they would never sleep alone. Aunt and nephew had found a new solace for their cares and worries. She had a lot to teach him about fucking, all the things that she ever hoped her husband would do to her she could make this youngster do. All the wicked, degrading acts she wanted to perform with her own husband she could persuade this horny young man to do with her and no one would ever know. She could degrad herself with her Nephew in a way that she wouldn't have the nerve to do with her own husband.
A nearby siren started to wail, another raid was about to begin. Neither woman or boy cared! She was already rubbing him to a large hard-on, her own cunt wet and eager for his prick again. Raid or no raid, she was going to get him to fuck her again, she just had to have that supreme prick again, she just had to.
CHAPTER THREE
"Well, good luck, son." bluff, hale and hearty Eric Mane was shaking the hand of his young brother-in-law. "You show those Jerry bastards a thing or two when you get over there, son!"
It was alright for him to talk. He had a good job in a factory turning out war metal and ball bearings, it was the less fortunate ones like Ron Lake who had to go over the Water and fight the enemy. Ron looked at his brother-in-law. He was not a bad sort really, and besides he was much older than Ron was, too old for the forces perhaps, and so far he had been a good husband to Martha.
For the last few days of his leave before going abroad with the Army, Ron Lake had been staying with his married sister and her husband. Martha was the eldest in the family, she was ten years older than her soldier brother and she felt badly at his going away although she had not seen him before this leave for several years.
They watched her husband go off down the path. Eric was on the night shift this week, by the time he got home in the morning Ron would have left for his Army depot.
"If you've got to be up early in the morning, Ron" his sister was saying to him, "you had better go up to bed, dear. I will bring you up a hot drink. You go on, I'll bring it up to you."
She was a good sister alright, she had done everything to make his last few days happy days, he would be sorry to go from this comfortable home to the stark realities of Army life again. He was glad that his brother-in-law had made arrangements for her to go down into the country and stay until the air raids were less frequent and dangerous. She was going down to a farm at the end of the week, her two young children were already evacuated down there. Strange to think he was an uncle. At the age of nineteen, a youth doesn't like to think he had two young nephews and nieces, makes a man feel old doesn't it? He grinned as he thought of the two youngsters, happy kids they were. His thoughts were interrupted by Martha's arrival in the bedroom doorway. He looked at her and his jaw dropped, he had not seen his sister like this before. She was wearing a kind of nightgown that was flimsy and mistily transparent, he noticed also that she had put fresh make-up on her face, far from making her look more pretty it made her look older than her age, made her look less like his older sister, more like a mature woman of the world.
A thick bright lipstick made her usually sweet lips look large and her mouth appeared as a crimson slash, she had applied heavy eye-shadow and a lot of mascara as well. Under the transparent nightie she was still wearing a sort of foundation-girdle, which reached from her waist to her tits, the large pendulous globes hanging free of the lacings of the corset-like garment.
On her feet she had a pair of very high heeled, black glistening patent shoes and her shapely legs were encased in a pair of black net stockings which were held in place by an elaborate black and pink garter belt over which she wore a clinging pair of pale pink panties that revealed her bushy twat.
"I knew you would be surprised, Ron dear," she started to explain, "my husband likes me to dress up like this sometimes, to make out I am a naughty woman. You know, a naughty loose woman, a whore. He gets pleasure from having me dress and act like this, a great deal of pleasure, and as this is your last night in England and goodness known when you will be back again, Ron dear, I thought you might like me to dress up like this and give you the same pleasure I give Eric."
The young soldier was still gaping when his sister came closer to him, she leaned over towards where he sat on the edge of the bed so that he could peer down at her powered white tits. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms about his neck and dragged his face to her titties, he made a half-hearted attempt to pull back from her but her arms tightened. "No one will know, Ron darling," she was coaxing him, "my husband won't be home until the morning, we have all night. You don't have to leave the house until eight do you to get the bus up to the barracks?"
He felt her hands getting inside his shirt, her long fingers traced down his sides and his back, this was a change of events he had never dreamed of to have his sister making up to him like this. True, she was ten years older than he was, true, she was experienced, she was not a virgin. She was a married woman and yet SHE WAS HIS OWN SISTER. Just a few minutes before her husband had been shaking his hand and wishing him good luck, now Martha was behaving as if she was a whore whom he had paid to fuck for this last night of his leave.
One of her hands that was under his opened shirt, was sliding down inside the waist band of his underpants, her sharp nails scratching along his ass crack, her silk stockinged thighs brushed against one another making a sensual exciting sound.
When she moved back away from him he was afraid she had suddenly changed her mind. She smiled at him, "You want me to stay with you tonight, Ron dear," she chuckled, "you want to sleep with your married sister for a few hours don't you darling brother?"
He nodded, he was struck dumb and numb with amazed excitement. He saw her carefully flipping her flimsy nightie down from her naked shoulders, then she kicked off the high heels and pushed her flimsy panties down. Now, he saw the wonderful bizarre contrast of her white powdered flesh that showed between the tops of the black net hose and the lower regions of the corset-foundation garment of black and pink. Eric certainly knew a thing or two getting his wife to dress like this for him when he wanted some arousing. She helped him get undressed, then as they lay on his bed close together he eased himself over on top of her. She spread her thighs for him, "You are as impatient as my husband, darling," she chuckled softly, "but I like a man to be in a hurry. There, darling ... there my darling brother ... here it is ... here darling ... oggeeee ... ohhhhh ... your prick is nice and big darling."
His cock had slipped into her cunt depths as if their sexual organs had been made specifically for one another. He felt his sister clamp her thighs together as soon as he entered her pussy making her cunt walls grip him as tightly as if she had been a little-fucked young girl instead of a well-fucked married woman with two small children to show for her screwing.
So warm and tight was the groove into which he rammed his cock, the soldier came to his climax almost at once. He lay panting and sorry that he had not showed more control and hoping upon hope that his sister had meant it when she said she would stay the WHOLE night with him in his bed. He felt her warm lips kissing his belly, lower and lower in a slow maddening circle she moved her mouth until she was letting her tongue tip touch his pubic hair that was wet with his perspiration.
"My husband likes me sucking his prick, darling," she teased softly. "Do you think you will like your sister sucking you in such a naughty way, Ron dear?"
He felt the warm, wet tongue lap across his limp cock, then laying with her face sideways along his groin, she edged the head of the loose cock stem into her lips and drew in her breath. He gasped as her mouth, that clearly had sucked a prick many many times before, coaxed his cock into a new hardness. When she had him hard and strong enough, she lay again on her back and helped him get on top of her. "Come on, you horny soldier boy," she coaxed him wickedly, "give your sister another good fucking. Show her what you are going to do to those hefty German wenches when you get the chance ... come on darling ... fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck your sister again."
He began to lunge in and out of that wet, hot clinging hole. He gripped her fleshy upper arms with his fists and leveled himself up to be able to look down into her heavily made-up face. She did not look like his sister, she liked his fucking her pussy so much she was like a whore trying to please a client. Yet, she WAS his sister! He pounded and hammered at her with all his force, after the first quick orgasm, he was able to control himself much better this time, able to make it last a long time, able to prolong their mutual pleasures of the build up to the climax. He felt her trying to hold back her cum, but as the spasms wrenched through her and he felt the warm wetness increase in that hot twat pit into which his sturdy cock was screwing, he knew he was making his sister cum. He saw tears start to roll down her cheeks as if now that her pleasure had been lustfully gratified she was bitterly sorry for screwing with her own brother. He was amazing himself by the length of time he was fucking her. He was still as stiff as a poker, still fucking her, still not near his climax. Slowly, she began to move again with him, the tears disappeared. Her face assumed a mask of lust and desire that was most certainly not a make-believe grimace. He was kissing her mouth greedily and spurting his sperm high into her womb while she was having her second orgasm with him.
If she gave her husband this sort of fuck very often he was a lucky chap, thought Ron. A lucky devil, but one that would need a lot of stamina. Right at this moment, he felt he could not move a muscle, his married sister had drained him of all his manhood, his very life energy was up there in her hot greedy twat.
He dozed, sheer exhaustion forced him to. When he was aroused it was to find her hands pumping at his cock stem with a force that had awoken him. He was half erect, her hands had jerked him to a semi-state of desire and her voice was throaty and hoarse as she whispered to him, "Darling ... my darling brother ... let's fuck again! Let's keep on screwing until you have to leave in the morning." To the best of his ability, young soldier, Ron Lake, kept on fucking and fucking his sister as if he had been married to her instead of Eric Mane.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Eric Small was eventually allowed out from the mental home after his breakdown, he fully intended to go back to his sister's place and take up again with her as he had just prior to the unfortunate breakdown in his health. Edna and Paul had visited him many times at the hospital and he half guessed that his fifteen year old son was taking his place in his Auntie's cunt at night. The lad looked more pale and worn out with every visit. His father guessed correctly that his mature married Aunt Edna was providing more pussy than a young teenage youth could manage. The sexy Edna Raven was, in fact, getting her young nephew to screw her at least twice a night and when the boy came home for lunch on the few days that he did not stay at the factory canteen, she made him screw her either with his prick, if it was not too tired, or at the least to suck her cunt.
Edna Raven was having three times more fuck activity and satisfaction than when her husband was living at home with her. Even the beastly air raids came second in her thoughts now, her absent husband was third. First, was, of course, cock! At the moment it was her young nephew's virile prick, but she was not fussy where she got her gratification as long as she got it. Her fighting husband would indeed find a great change in his once modest and sexually shy wife when he came home, if he did come home, and according to the reports he was not coming home ever.
Enda would have welcomed sharing her bed, and her body with both Eric and his son Paul. She hoped that now he was to be discharged from the home, Eric would be coming to live with her again but the doctor would not hear of this arrangement. It was essential, so the medic insisted, that Eric Small should be down in the country. He must find a relation who could put him up for a few months far away from the bomb raids. It did not take Eric Small long to know just the relation he would stay with, that is if she would have him. It was Mabel Grant, a distant cousin, whom he had not seen for a few years. She lived well out in the country, down near Cornwall, he thought. He found the address, and it was the doctor of the home that made the contact and the arrangements. It took a few days and then the glad tidings were brought to Eric in the ward.
"Your cousin will be pleased to have you for a few weeks, Mr. Small," the doctor told him. "I have heard from her today. Her husband is away in the Army and she lives alone in the country with her daughter, Jill. The child, I believe, is about twelve. It will be peace and quiet for you, a complete change and it will do you good. Just what you need."
Eric was not listening to the doctor. As soon as the name of the girl was mentioned, Jill, he remembered. She was that pretty girl who always called him Uncle Errie. She had never been able to call him Eric, always Errie, Uncle Errie. She had been about eight when last he saw her. Yes, she would be about twelve now. He wondered if she was still as pretty, wondered if he could fuck her young pussy.
It had been a stroke of genius on his part to arrive at the cottage on the evening before he was expected. He had written to tell Mabel he would be arriving at mid-day on Tuesday and he had turned up at ten o'clock on Monday night instead. It had just been a hunch, he knew that Mabel had always like the men, he guessed she wouldn't be able to be true and faithful while her husband was away in the Army. Just for the heck of it, Eric Small made the trip on the day previous to try and find out his cousin. Sure enough, his longshot had paid a dividend. Two Yanks from the nearby training grounds were met at the cottage door coming out just as Eric Small, cases and all, was arriving at the gate. A short embarrassed meeting with Mabel after the Yanks had departed, a meeting that should have been joyful, a meeting at which Mabel should have been able to tell her cousin how pleased she was to be able to help him after his troubles, but now it was a meeting between these cousins that was far from what had been expected. Eric had a threat to hold over her. How would she like her husband to get a letter telling him about the way his wife was fucking not one, but two American soldiers in her cottage while he was away fighting for his King and country?
At first Mabel had thought her vile elderly cousin wanted to screw her. Well, she didn't mind, she liked younger prick but if he insisted and it would keep him quiet, well, she would give him her twat. But, this was not his plan at all. He wanted Mabel, oh yes, he wanted her in good time, but first, he wanted the youngster. It was her daughter he was after, his niece, the twelve year old Jill. Arrangements were made.
It was not often that Mabel took her young daughter out with her, especially if she was visiting the pubs where she might meet the able virile men from the nearby American training base, but tonight had been different. Uncle Eric was with them for one thing, that was different. And Uncle had insisted on taking the girl with them. She could not go into the bar with them, but he was sure she had drinks in the lobby outside and not kiddie drinks either. Lemonade with an ample dash of gin, then a coca-cola with a little Scotch in it.
The girl was a little light-headed by the time she was brought back to the cottage on the arms of her mother and her kindly Uncle Eric. The girl nodded and sighed when, still on their supporting arms, she was taken into her mother and father's room. Her own little room was along the landing but the girl assumed that as she had been complaining that she did not feel too well after those funny drinks at the pub, her mother was going to let her sleep in her bed in case she was ill in the night.
It was a very puzzled, but tired and head-aching young Jill who watched not only her mother getting undressed to get into bed with her, but also her Uncle Eric. She saw him naked, she saw her mother naked. She was instinctively afraid and pushed the bed clothing away and tried to get across to the door and race along to her own room.
Her mother caught her before she got the door open. She tried to sooth the frightened child, "Now, now darling, there is no need to be afraid. Uncle Eric wants to play a little game with us. You will be alright. You love Uncle Eric, you know you do. Come on my pet, come and sit on his lap."
Eric was seated on the bed edge, he held up his arms for the frightened child, taking her up and squatting her on his naked lap. She seemed to be less afraid when he embraced her, although she was still sobbing quietly. She felt her mother's hands at the hem of her nightie as it was being tugged up the slender girlish legs. Jill felt her nightie being drawn to her waist, now she was sitting on her uncle's bare flesh with her own naked flesh. She felt his firm cock pushing against her ass. She knew what it was, it was her uncle's 'dickie'. The feel of it on her flesh made her feel funny, made her feel strangely excited. She stopped her sobbing as his hands began to caress lovingly her small tits. Her mother sat on the bed near them, watching her cousin teasingly caressing and petting her twelve year old daughter.
The child felt a warm glow between her soft thighs, a feeling that she had never really known before although it was something like she experienced when she was riding a horse from the nearby stable and the saddle was too large for her. She felt her uncle's hands roaming down to her belly, to her thighs and to that little belly-button again, then slowly up the tummy to the titty peaks. By the time his hands had been on a wandering tour once or twice and returned to rest on her titties, the youngster was laying back more relaxed on his broad hairy chest. Her mother saw that she was not less tense and afraid and she got up and helped Eric maneuver her daughter into a different position. Eric stretched his hairy legs outwards more while the girl was turned to face him. Mabel drew her young daughter's long slender legs down and caused the girl to fall on to her uncle's body, that rigid pulsing length of prick resting close to her pink little cunt as Eric wriggled into position under the girl's light weight.
Mabel knelt on the carpet down between the feet of the man and girl. She reached up to push her daughter's thighs more apart and in so doing was given a perfect view of the small girlish cunthole, the lips now glistening wet and slightly distended. The girl was excited, they were beginning to get the twelve year old in heat. Mabel glanced upwards, she saw that her cousin was getting his hungry mouth to her daughter's. Jill was not trying to avoid the kiss although it was very different from the usual kiss that a niece might expect to get from an uncle, no matter how loving he might be. Mabel watched as her daughter's mouth was explored lewdly by a male tongue for the first time. Proof of the child's heat was there when she started to suck on the male tongue in the same way that her uncle was sucking on hers. Mabel saw that her twelve year old offspring was gradually being brought to the point of no return. It was horrid and wicked to allow this to happen, it was vile that Eric had threatened to denounce her to her soldier husband if she didn't play along with him. But now that it was actually happening and she was not going to stop it, Mabel found she was getting a bizarre thrill from this enacted incestuous petting, and she knew where it was most likely to end.
Mabel felt her own passions rising as she saw the slimy dribble coming from their joined mouths. She knew that her young daughter was tasting the tongue and spit of another person for the first time and that person was her elderly uncle. There was no doubt at all the sensation was enthralling for the child, she was letting the wet saliva be pushed into her mouth by her uncle's tongue and now the man was beginning a slow rhythm with his stomach and that hard long dong against her own little tummy. Mabel watched the naked body of the man jogging up and down under her daughter's belly, she put one hand up and gently with her fingertips made a slight alteration in the angle of that strong rigid cock. Now as he jogged up and down, the head of the great purple cock nudged at the opening pinkish cunny lips of the youngster.
It was incredible how the pale lips of that little twat had become blood gorged and Mabel saw her daughter's cuntlips get visibly swollen and puffy, and the hole that a moment or so ago had been so small and hardly visible was now a black, elongated crevice that accentuated the child's clitty. At the tip of the flesh-slit appeared a bright red pimple, the first signs of the clitoris of the young girl as it became aroused and forcibly swollen from her emotions and new passions. Every time the swollen smooth head of the cock rubbed against the clitoris stump, the girl sighed and gave a startled gasp of pleasure. A more continued rubbing of her clitty caused her to start to jerk her hips to and fro and to arch herself harder to her uncle's naked hairy loins. It was her mother's hands that held the cock shaft steady while the girl writhed and squirmed. Mabel guided the iron-hard cock to the center of her daughter's cunt as the child ground herself in a new frenzied sensation while her uncle held her so lovingly in his strong bare arms.
Against that small hole the head of the cock looked immense. Surely, no such sized monster would ever be able, to penetrate into so small an opening! Even now with the child so excited, her uncle's prickhead covered entirely the area of the hole itself. No more than half the domed crown of the prick would fit into the little warm nest of soft wet flesh.
They had given the girl strong drinks in her lemonade, had made her light headed and not averse to letting herself be petted. They had rubbed her and kissed her to an aroused state of horniness, they had induced her little twat to get her hot and, clearly, the small hole wanted to be penetrated. But now at the crucial moment, it was abundantly clear to Mabel that her daughter was too young, too small, too under-developed yet to be able to have a man's cock and Uncle Eric's prick seemed to be larger than a normal man's. Certainly he was larger than her husband, larger than either of the two Yanks who had fucked her the previous night, and then be caught by Eric's sudden arrival, Mabel wanted her cousin for herself. She felt her own womanly hole wetting and getting so hot she could hardly bare leave it alone. She didn't want him to fuck out his passion on the child. She wanted his prick for herself.
She reached up and clasped the strong sturdy cock in her hands, trying to ease it away from the angle that would keep its swollen purple head to her daughter's small cunthole. "Leave her till she's older, darling," she moaned, "come and sleep with me. Let me show you what a real woman can do for you. She's too young, too small yet, please Eric, my darling cousin. Eric darling, fuck me ... fuck me, I implore you darling ... Cousin darling ... fuck me ... I need you so."
Young Jill panted and played with her hot wet little cunt as she watched her mother stretch out on her back near her on the bed and Uncle Eric was getting his face right down between her thighs. The child watched as her uncle, seemingly chewed and ate her mother's hairy cunt. The bed creaked as the sudden quickening of the woman's writhing and lifting and falling asscheeks heralded her first orgasm. Jill had never guesed that a man ever did that sort of thing to a woman. By the strange sounds that came from her mother's contorting mouth, it had given her terrific pleasure. Jill wished her uncle had done that to her with his mouth. She watched as her mother opened her legs, the meaty red raw cunt of the mature woman was a vivid contrast to the puffy lipped tight little nest that had laid between the child's spread thighs. This hole looked as if it was ready to allow a telegraph pole to be inserted in it. The young girl watched in open mouthed astonishment as that long thick dickie that reared from her uncle's tummy was thrust and lost from sight right into her mother's body. That was the strong, heavy immense thing she had felt trying to force it's way up into her body. It had felt impossible, and yet her mother's pussy had taken it so easily and so greedily.
At the tender age of twelve-and-a-half, Jill watched her first fuck. She watched her mother being fucked by her Uncle. The girl knew this was what married couples did, this was what her father did to her mother when he was home on leave, but now it was her uncle sticking his prick into her mother, and Mother was getting terrific pleasure and excitement from it. Perhaps it didn't really matter who did it, perhaps a woman enjoyed it with anybody. She had heard her mother begging Uncle Eric to 'fuck her'. She had heard the word several times at school from the older girls but had not been sure what it meant. Now she was sure. This was fucking, her mother was being fucked, fucked by Uncle Eric!
Twelve year old Jill fingered her newly aroused clitoris stem. Never had it felt so large or so sensitive as it did now. She knew why, she wanted to have what her mother was having. She wanted to be fucked! She hoped afterwards that Uncle Eric would fuck her. After all, he had started to when her mother had dragged him away. Jill fingered her pulsing cunny lips and dragged them open. She tried to make the center hole larger by spreading the outer lips. It seemed so terribly small and immature compared with her mother's and yet she knew that twelve year old girls DID fuck men. Only last week there had been a lot in the local paper about a man in the village who had been sent to prison for a long time for fucking a girl of thirteen. That was only a few months older than she was. Jill was sure that the man in the paper had fucked the girl just like her Uncle Eric was fucking her mother. He had fucked her, so it must be possible for a girl of her age to be fucked by a man, must be possible for a fully grown man to fuck a girl of twelve.
Her thoughts were broken by the wild cries and rough contortions of Uncle Eric and her mother. They were having their cums ... it was nearly over ... nearly ... nearly.
Jill looked with unbelieving eyes as her uncle rolled away from her gasping mother. His cockie, once so long and thick and so fiercely strong, was now limp and small, more the size that would go into her small little hole. But her instinct told her that it would not be what she wanted. Her feminine instincts were already at play, already she knew she wanted a large strong cock, just like her uncle had had before her mother took it away from her. The youngster remembered the horrid old tramp that had tried to stop her in the lane on her way home from school a few days ago. He had tried to grab her arm as she ran past him. She had not stopped but she had heard his obscene words, "You're a very pretty girl," he had called after her "come and look at the nice big cock I've got for pretty little girls!"
She had been too afraid to even mention the man to her mother or the teachers at school. Now she hoped she would see him again, not to report him, but to let him show her his 'nice big cock'.
If Uncle Eric wouldn't fuck her, she would soon find a man who would.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Hello, dear, why aren't you at school?" the tall angular grey -haired man followed Jill from the front door into the living room.
"I haven't been feeling too well Grandad," she told him. "Mother and Uncle Eric have gone into town for the shopping and if I am not any better tomorrow she is going to get the doctor."
The old man looked at his young pretty grandchild. Her lovely, long legs were not hidden very much by the short uniform she wore, and if he kept at just the right distance from her as he followed her, he could catch a glimpse, when the short dress flaired out as she walked, at her small short garter fastenings that kept her school nylons so taut and fully stretched.
"Not feeling well, eh." he repeated, "what is the matter, my dear, not those nasty tummy pains you had a few weeks ago after you had been eating too many apples?" He chuckled as if those rotten pains she had had were some sort of private joke. They had not been a joke to her at the time. "No, Grandad, it is not the same this time. I have just not been feeling well."
She saw him looking closely at her. "When do you expect your mother and Uncle Eric back, dear?" he asked. He seemed pleased when she said they had not been gone long and would probably not be back for a couple of hours.
"Have you been getting any pains here, my dear?" he asked, touching her lightly on her pert young titties that made the front of her uniform and white poplin blouse jut forward, "I know a lot of girl about your age get growing pains here."
"I ... I ... I. well ... I don't ... I...." she was stammering, she was looking down at his hands as they began to unbutton the small pearly buttons at the front of the blouse. She watched him open the blouse. Now her tits became more visible to him, now only the pale blue cups of her girl-bra hid the actual flesh from his old glinting eyes. He cupped both young titties in his palms and rubbed the nipples with his thumbs. "You sure you gave not been getting any pains here, my child?" he asked, trying to make his question sound important.
"Well ... er ... er .. no ... no Grandad .. not really," she stammered, "but now that you touch me there I do feel ... rather strange."
She was indeed feeling strange. Not only at her breasts but she was getting that naughty, tingling exciting feeling again in her twat that she had first got that night on the bed with her Uncle Eric. She dare not tell her Grandad what had happened then, and that she was feeling that way again now. She watched him tweaking her nipple to and fro in his thumb and finger, she felt it growing, felt it making her whole tit and cunny throb. "I think your nipple is swollen," he muttered, "I think I had better have a look at it, Jill dear."
He was feeling around under her blouse at her back, he found the small catches of her bra and soon had the harness unhooked. With his wrists inside the blouse and his fingers under the bra shoulder-straps, he drew the blouse and bra down to her elbows and then down from her arms altogether. He gazed at her pert, milky-white titties in breathless silence for a moment-his voice was trembly as he told her, "I think you are alright there, my dear. I don't think there is anything wrong with your pretty breasts at all."
He slid his hot hands down from her glowing white tits to her soft belly. He patted the smooth flesh lovingly. "How about down here, my dear? You can tell your old Grandad, you know. Do you ever get funny feelings down here?" he rubbed her belly flesh, gradually working his fingers towards the center of her girlish cunt covered by her slip and underthings.
"Well I ... I do ... I do ... urr ... I ... well," she didn't know what to say. He saw her coloring up and he smiled at her to reassure her. "Perhaps you had better let your old Grandad have a look, my dear. No point in bringing the doctor all the way out here to see you tomorrow if it is something that Grandad can put right."
He helped her off with the slip. Now she had on only her dark tan school nylon stockings kept up with that straight black garter belt and a pair of very brief black cotton panties. He was panting in such a way that he sounded like a breathless animal. It frightened the girl and yet she didn't want to stop him. She watched his trembly hands getting her school pants down. He told her to sit on the edge of the couch and she felt all hot and excited when he dropped to his knees in front of her and she felt his hot breath on the bare flesh above her stockings. Was he going to fuck her like Uncle Eric had fucked her mother? She held her breath. She prayed he wouldn't stop now, that he wouldn't suddenly be afraid to go on. "I do feel funny down there, Grandad," she muttered, "I feel that something is wrong ... very wrong ... you must do something for me. I'm sure you know what's good for girls when they have an ache in their cunny."
He hardly believed his ears as he heard her words, she was holding her small pretty hands right over her slightly -haired little hole. He gripped her slim wrists and pulled her hands away, then getting his right hand under her left knee, he raised it and hooked it over his right shoulder. "Yes, I think I know what is good for little girls when they feel as you do, child." he muttered and then buried his face to her waiting hot little minge. For fully five minutes he sucked at her young cunt and when she was sticky and wet he heaved her leg down from his shoulder, stood up in front of her and pointed to the terrific swelling at the front of his trousers. "Would you be a good girl and open Grandad's trousers for him. I am like you. I feel a pain and feel funny. Now you must help me."
Her hands reached for the fly zipper ... it was stiff and he had to help her get it down, then she was holding and stroking the glistening smooth head of his fine prick. He watched his grand-daughter's small white fingers caressing the huge bloated cock. He held her wrist, showed her how to jerk him, encouraged her to move her fingers so that she massaged the sensitive prick-head. He put both his hands behind her head and clamped his fingers together, now he drew her head forward. She sensed what he wanted her to do and, slowly, she let her pink tongue tip protrude from her lips and allowed it to gently touch the crown of his cock. It was far from being an unpleasant taste, she felt thrilled at what she was doing. She began to slowly lick. The pulsing heave that the fuck-pole gave as the soft wet warmth of her tongue caressed it made her jump. The think was getting so big, not so huge as her Uncle Eric's, but very large nonetheless. She heard her Grandad breathing like a horse that had just run in the Grand National. She heard him muttering, "Take it in your mouth, my darling girl, suck it right in that pretty mouth."
She tried to do just that, closing her lips about the heavy prick at the end of the shaft and sucking inwards. With his hands clamped to the back of her head he soon got her into a steady rhythm. She soon began to bob and weave her head at his loins, giving long satisfying and drawing as much of the actual cock length into her mouth as she could without gagging.
Suddenly, she felt sure he was trying to kill her by poking his dick right down her throat, then, as she felt that not another fraction could she take, the felt a hot wet flooding. She tried in desperation to drag her face way from this shooting wetness but her Grandfather's hands were even more tightly to the back of her head. She couldn't lift her mouth an inch off his cock, the wet hot fluid was draining down her throat, was all in her mouth saturating her gums and her teeth as well as her lolling tongue. When at last she was allowed to lift her head, she saw that the once strong cock was limp just as her uncle's had been when he had fucked her mother. Yet her grandfather had not fucked her, unless this was a sort of fucking fucking in her mouth! She wished with all her body that she hadn't sucked him off but had let her elderly relation get his prick in her twat just as Uncle Eric had down with her mother. That was the best way! That was the true way to fuck, that was what men and women were meant to do! She was only twelve but already she knew her part in the fucking of male and female. She was not going to wait till she got married to have cock. If her Uncle Eric wouldn't fuck her, she was sure that Grandad would on his next visit especially if she never mentioned to her mother what the old man had done to her on this quick visit ... or what she had done to him.
CHAPTER SIX
It was not often that Grandad Grant came up to London, and when he did it was only for the shortest possible time. He did not like big towns even in peace time and with the constant threat of air raids the attractions of London were far less for him. The reason for this visit was to collect Kenny and Suzy, the children of his eldest son who had just been called up for service. Their mother was working in a munitions factory and so was unable to look after the children very well, and this together with the frequent air raids, had made the invitation of old Grandad Grant for the kiddies to stay with him in the country a good idea. He stayed but one night in London at their home and then brought them back to his own quiet cottage, far away from the enemy planes, far away from bombs, far away from the influence of their mother.
Kenny was fourteen, his sister only ten, but Grandad Grant was pleased to find that the girl was well built for her age and quite nicely developed. He didn't intend to waste any time in finding out how easy it might be to get the young brother and sister interested in an incestuous way. Right from the first night at his cottage, he made them share not only a bedroom but the same bed.
The first night at the cottage Suzy went into bed first, she was tired from the journey and upset at being away from home. Grandad gave her a little mild sleeping pill, a pill that also contained a far from mild aphrodasiac.
An hour later when the old man escorted her brother into the bedroom the girl was laying on the bed, her hot condition tempted her to throw the bedclothing back, her warm soft thighs were open and to the eager eyes of the old man and the excited gaze of her brother, the girl was showing her sweetly moist cunny-hole.
Although the child was asleep her young twat was soaking wet in her drugged arousal and her brother and old grandad were able to detect little pearly drops of her girlish juice dribbling from the small gash amid the soft sparse curls of her pussy.
Kenny had undressed in the bathroom and now was in his pajamas and dressing gown. He didn't make any protest when he felt the hands of his grandad at his gown sash or when the dressing wrap fell open and his grandfather's hands extracted a far from^ small prick from the fly. Grandad Grant was delighted to see his grandson had a very good sized prick. Even at his age it was stiff and erect at the sight of the little girl's wet slit.
"Give her little cunt a nice kiss before you get into bed with her," the boy heard the old man suggesting quietly to him.
The excited boy didn't need a second invitation. The old man stood back and watched the boy bury his face in between his young sister's thighs. The room echoed to the sounds of wet slurping noises as the greedy mouth of the boy sucked at the cunt juice from his own sister's lush young cunny.
Grandad sat on the bedside, gently slapping the girl's face in his effort to get her to wake up. He heard her begin to moan as she started to awaken, the first pangs of her drugged sexuality were starting to excite her and the soft lappings of her brother's tongue at her cunt added to her girlish lust.
The child's moans became louder and more intense. Grandad drew her nightie right up to her neck and then taking the boy's wrists, he pulled his hands to the little titties and showed the lad how to fondle the pert little stubs of her nipples. It was incredible that even at the age of ten her nipples responded; small as they were they became longer and more firm. Her next actions even surprised the old man, though far from displeasing him, he loved to see such a response in a girl of only ten. Her slim long white legs lifted and crossed over the bent back of her brother, her heels pressed to the back of his neck as she maneuvered herself to wrap the naked legs about him. Her eyes were open now and she was fully aware that her grandfather and her brother were in the room with her, she was fully aware what was being done to her, and fully aware that she loved the sensations she was experiencing.
She looked up into her old grandfather's leering face, "Kenny, Kenny shouldn't be doing this ... he must ... stop ... stop him. . oheeeee ... stop him ... ohee Grandad ... stopppppp ... himmeeeeeee."
Grandad Grant patted her flushed young face. "We must never tell anyone what you and Kenny do down here, my pet," he said to her softly, "but you don't really want me to stop him, do you?"
She shook her head, biting her lower lip she writhed and tossed under the inexperienced but frantically exciting tongue-sucking her hot little cunt was getting from her brother's mouth.
There is no doubt that the boy would have continued to suck her to her climax, such as it would be at her age, but grandad had other ideas. He held the boy's shoulders and dragged him up so that he lay on top of the naked little girl. Grandad tugged at the boy's pajama trousers until they came off and now brother and sister lay tummy to tummy, naked and throbbing. It was natural for the boy to start kissing his young sister on the mouth, Grandad was pleased to see this, he knew the mixture of cunt juice flavor and their mingled saliva would excite the two youngsters to the point of wanting to give in to the natural urge to fuck each other.
Grandad hovered above them, his hands under his grandson's belly to grasp at the now iron-hard and quite long prick. It was an easy matter to guide the jutting rearing cock towards the little girl's hot wet fuck-pole. Nature did the rest. The urge for fucking had been given a start and it was taking place. Kenny thrust his prick at his young sister with all his might. The old man who leaned so he could look between their bodies saw the boy's cock slide up into the girl's young hairy-lipped hole, brother and sister were united and fucking together with the best of all locks, a cock!
This was the very first night he had the youngsters under his roof and already he had them not only sharing a bed but fucking together like a married couple, and Kenny was fourteen and his sister 'bride' only ten. The boy was answering the perfectly natural call of his flesh by screwing his sister with long heavy strokes of his young prick and incredibly enough the young pair seemed to be fucking in unison to obtain the peak of their lusts together. Grandad would have been willing to swear that the child, although only ten, was having an orgasm as her brother pumped his hot sperm into her sweet belly. There was no possible mistaking the boy was getting his climax out of his balls, the rich creamy sperm overspilled from the ten-year-old cunnygash in a way that suggested he had given her little immature womb a good filling first.
And this was but their first night with Grandad Grant. The old man had many more plans for them. The young brother and sister had taken to the straight forward fucking like the most natural thing in the world, now it was up to the licentious old grandfather to teach them the perversions: assfucking, cock-sucking, pee-hole fucking and more advanced stages of sexual lust. A lust that was twenty times more satisfying when it was of an incestuous fashion such as brother and sister. Or grandfather and grand-daughter?
PART THREE
CHAPTER ONE
"Hurry up, Arlene ... or you'll be late for the office," called her mother from the bottom of the stairs. "It's nearly nine."
"Alright, I'll be down in a jiffy," answered a gay feminine voice accompanied by the sounds of the shower. As the naked blonde towelled herself briskly, she wondered if she'd bother to go in today or not. After all, she had promised to go down and see Paul, at the corner house. He said he wanted to teach her to drive, but she well knew that he wanted to teach her something to do with his cock and her cunt! He'd be sure to give her a present, money she hoped.
But it was such fun at the office. Old Griggs always chiding her, the various salesmen that came in always wanting to date her and that swine, that fucking son of a whore, Maurice Belham, touching her up, slapping her ass whenever the chance came his way. And there was the office boy!
Besides it was thrilling to go down to town each day, to have the looks of all the males on her, to hear their wolf whistles, their whispered comment, thought Arleen as she threw down the towel and looked at her naked body in the mirror.
Yes, she didn't wonder that guys chased her. She was beautiful, more than that, she was alluring, with her long golden hair, hanging down in lovely tresses to her shoulders, her cream and roses complexion and her oh, oh innocent blue eyes. No wonder all the prick-pushers tried to get into her twat.
She brushed her shoulder-length hair until it was positively gleaming, she pushed it over one side of her face like a movie-star; it gave her a sexy, audacious appeal.
Her hands ran over her firm, high breasts, she rouged the nipples, shivering as she tickled them up to a fine erection.
Standing on tiptoe, she half-turned, admiring the curve of her back, then the challenging thrust of her asscheeks and the firm swell of her thighs.
The palms of her hands went down over her trim waist, down over her hips, to come around to the front, fingertips gently delving into the thick fuzz of her bush-hair.
She let her fingers go even lower, she parted her wonderful thighs, looking at the reflection, as she opened up the lips of her moist cunt, again having a delicious little shudder as she did so. Mother was calling again ... quick, quick, she must dress or miss the train. She picked up a black, slender garter-belt, adjusted it around her belly and then searched for some nylons. She found them under a pile of clothes, and seating herself, she rolled first one stocking up a long, slender shapely leg and then the other. She adjusted the stockings to the garter clips, smoothing out the stockings with the palm of her hand, seeing that the seam was perfectly straight.
Now for her panties. Ah, yes, these black sheer panties would have to do. She'd worn them yesterday and they were a little stained between the crotch where she'd had an orgasm as a man had fingered her twat in the pictures. Never mind, they'd have to do. She'd buy a new pair today, that lovely pair with 'not tonight, Joe' that she'd seen in a shop window in Charing Cross Road, embroidered on the left leg.
They hung around her asscheeks gracefully, and she pulled them in a little tighter, for she loved the feel of that little strip of material chaffing at her cunt between her legs as she walked. It made her feel horny and she liked feeling horny.
Now for a brassiere to match, not that her swelling titties needed any support. But a flimsy creation was pulled tautly across her breasts, she fitted the twin mounds in the half cups of sheer, lacy material and then surveyed the effect. She'd surveyed the effect a hundred times before, but she always got a kick out of seeing her breasts held high and tight on her chest.
Now for a dress, something suitable for the office. She smiled to herself as she remembered the telling off she'd received from the general manager on the occasion she'd worn that black-tight sheath dress.
"Hardly suitable for the office Miss Andrews," he said. "Perhaps something a little less ... er...." and he'd stopped.
Smiling, Arleen had provided the word for him.
'Revealing?' and she had chuckled for the poor sap. Trying to tell her off about the dress when it was all he could do to keep his eyes from the luscious curves she exhibited. He was mad about it, and more mad about the tits and cunt that were inside the dress. But he just had to do what he did, it was his job. He had suggested 'Perhaps a blouse and a dark skirt....? like so many other girls wore in the office.
Alright, thought Arleen, he'd have a blouse and a skirt. She chose a black, very abbreviated tight skirt that took a deal of wriggling into and presented quite a job in adjusting the zipper. Then she picked up a blouse., looked at it, threw it down in some disdain and chose another. This was a white nylon blouse, with a nice deep V collar, short sleeves and very revealing. In face when she had put it on and looked at the effect, she wondered if she ought to wear a slip. For her tits, encased in the flimsy brassiere, showed through the peek-a-boo material most revealingly.
But no, she thought. Why should she? She'd got nice breasts. Why shouldn't she show em? After all, that's what the boys wanted to see wasn't it?
Now for some black, stiletto-heeled shoes, a swift run over her face, with the rouge, lipstick and powder....and she was ready to leave.
Tripping downstairs, she reached for a raincoat, which she flung over her arm and called out a farewell to her mother.
"Bye, Mums' to be answered with, 'Bye Arleen. Be as good as you can.'
'And you, Mums,' replied Arleen.
Out at the front door, the girl paused, to look over the shoulder, to see if her seams were dead straight, to smooth the material of her skirt over her ass, to pull in the wide, black belt another notch that was around her waist . ... and then away, down the street to the station.
For this was the best part of the morning and the journey to town was exciting. She knew all the guys, young and old would be ogling at her, some trying to conceal their lustful glances, other not bothering, staring frankly at the sexy charms of her tits and ass, so frankly displayed.
Ah, there was the milkman now. Pausing in his delivery of a pint to No. 10, he turned, staring at Arleen as she approached, slipperty-clopping on her heels down the street making no pretense of concealing the hump-thoughts that were going through his head as he leered at her.
A bold one, this one, thought the girl, tossing back her head, throwing the shoulder-length hair back, fluttering in the warm breeze. Fancy him, with a wife and two kids having the nerve....
'Morning Miss' he muttered, as she was near. 'Nice day, looking a lot nicer since I last seen you. ... '
She knew he'd be ogling her from the rear and she swung her hips for all she was worth, moving her ass provocatively under the tight skirt, letting him get a good eyeful.
Ah, here was the paper man, with his stand on the corner. He was a bit more discreet this one. He didn't just stand and stare, he always pretended to be arranging papers that lay on the ground. But Arleen knew this trick. That way, kneeling down, pretending to be attending to his papers, he could get a good view of her legs, and without, as he thought, her knowing.
She paused this morning at the news stand, pretending to be deciding to make a purchase, standing right in front of the kneeling man and letting him get a good eyeful of her long legs.
"Er ... I think I'll have a copy of 'Reveille' "said the girl looking at the display of nude 'art' books on the stall. Wondering how much girls got for that kind of thing and thinking she had a figure to beat them all. Wondered if they had to put out hump all the way to get a job like that.
Well, she wasn't. Not yet, anyway. It was fun having guys chasing her for pussy and teasing them.
It appeared that the newspaper man had not heard her request for the paper; he was too busy oggling her legs. She wondered how much he could see down there. Could he see up to her thighs, where the stockings ended, perhaps catch a glimpse of her black panties pulled tightly around her crotch. She doubted that, with a tight skirt like this. However, for his benefit she gently parted her legs almost imperceptibly, but sufficent to give him a better view. As he still seemed not to have heard her, Arleen gently tapped him in the squatting rear with the toe of her shoe, to call his attention to her requirements. The man was so taken aback by the touch of her shoe that he toppled backwards as he squatted. Arleen let out a musical laugh at the man's ridiculous position murmuring, 'Oh, I'm so sorry' in her best, breathless tone, and held out a hand to assist the man to get up. His hand was hot and clammy, the fingers were trembling as she took his hand. She stood over him, legs well parted and she saw his eyes lusting up her twat hotly for all they were worth.
He was on his feet, looking very flustered and disturbed. He found the copy of the paper she wanted, handed it to her with trembling fingers, almost forgetting to take the money, as intently was he looking at something inside her blouse. With a laugh, Arleen tucked the paper under her arm and once more continued on her way, knowing that he would be looking at her ass until she was out of sight. As would be a good many others.
As she neared the corner of the turning that led to the station, there were a couple of fellows leaning against the wall, just waiting for her to go by. A couple of modern layabouts, with jeans, black leather coats, hair looking as if a comb hadn't been through it in weeks, and with an inevitable cigarette dangling from their mouths. Johnny and Franky were their names and many was the time they'd tried to date her.
These were a couple of guys that a girl had to ignore; give them an inch and they take a mile, thought Arleen. She approached and felt their eyes on her, she held her head high, she practically looked through them, and continued on.
She heard one guy mutter to the other, as she swung her ass ... 'I could go in a big way for that, Franky'
'Man, yeah! Me too. What a shape.' And this was followed by wolf whistles, which was all very satisfactory to Arleen, but carefully ignored.
Ah, the station. And there was that young porter, Jim, leaning on a trolley. He was always around in this position at this time, every morning. Arleen wondered if he deliberately arranged this, inwardly she was sure he did.
"Hi ya, beautiful' he muttered, his eyes working overtime. "How's about a date?'
Arleen tossed her head, a habit she had, causing her hair to swing out, to flutter around her shoulders. She arched her eyebrows, she coolly surveyed him, and murmured, 'On your way, sonny. When I want to go out with the kindergarten, I'll let you know.' and she swept past him. He opened his mouth to make some reply, no sound came out and he gazed at that provocative figure intently.
The train was coming in, puffing along the line some little distance away, and giving Arleen time to let her eyes take in the usual morning scene. Most of the travelers on this line were the regulars. There was old Mr. Brown, always with his neatly rolled umbrella, indifferent to the weather. There was the major, Major Rolls they called him, the guy that always chose a seat opposite her if he possibly could, and never removed his eyes from her legs during the whole of the journey. And of course, Percy Prall, the city stockbroker, and John Ford, a timid looking man with a bowler hat, black coat and striped pants.
The bit, pot bellied Percy Prall was openly trying to catch her eye, wanting to give her one of his roguish winks. There was no deception with Percy, he was a bold roue and he didn't care who knew it. Yet for all his blustering way, Mr. Ford, the small, quiet man, got around far better. It was always a scramble between the two as to which one sat next to her in the train and this morning was no exception.
Apart from the fact that they practically fought at the door of the compartment to get in after her, so as to grab a seat at her side, it was even more hectic when Arleen got inside the small truck-like compartment and hesitated where to sit. It wasn't until she chose to sit by the window at the left hand side that the two guys made up their minds they wanted to sit there as well. It was like a game of musical chairs, without the music and John Ford won.
As he wriggled in between Arleen and a passenger on the other side so Prall glowered at the smaller man, wriggled himself in further along the cushioned seat, and pulled out his paper in a rage. Of course, it couldn't be helped if John Ford rubbed his thigh against the girl's or if his arm pressed against hers. It was all so accidental, for the compartment-or this particular compartment was always so crowded. In face, any unusual traveler on this little suburban line might be pardoned for thinking the occupants of this one particular compartment were screwy, all piling into this one compartment when the others were practically empty!
And so the train started on its rambling, rattling journey to town, all eyes on the fair Arleen, who calmly opened her paper, to all intents was unaware of the interest she was causing, but secretly reveled in it.
She crossed one long, shapely leg over the other, with a swish of silk, which cuased all the males to ogle like mad. Of course, it couldn't be helped if her skirt rucked up over her knees. It was too tight and it was crowded in the compartment. Anyhow, that ought to do for the major; if she discreetly lowered the paper she was looking at a little she could see his eyes roving up and down her legs. Now for the timid Mr. Ford sitting beside her. Now so timid, come to think of it. If she moved just a trifle, if she pressed her lightly clad thigh to his, she would immediately feel a responsive move on the part of the man.
Yes, sure enough, he was returning the caress of her thigh, as she so softly moved it against him. Although outwardly reading her paper, her mind was filled with thoughts. She wondered what effect she had on the man on her side. Oh, she knew that he liked it, that he fought to get next to her, that she thrilled him. But did he get an erection....? She wondered. She tried looking down, holding the paper away from her a little, to see if she could see signs of an erection in his pants. But the man had his briefcase across his lap, so that ruled that out. Perhaps he had it there purposely, thought Arleen. She wondered if during the half hour journey, pressing and rubbing his leg to hers as to whether he came in his pants.
Surely, in such close proximity to her for half an hour he'd be sure to dribble a little, if not come. The thought of making his knob dribble thrilled the girl and a delightful shudder went through her body, which apparently was not unnoticed by Mr. Ford. She sensed his glance, she felt his leg more insistent against hers, and a smile appeared on her red, sensuous mouth.
At last the end of the journey and the mad scramble out at Liverpool Street, the milling crowd pushing and shoving, each going their separate way. Now that she was in Liverpool Street she'd make her way to the toilet, for the rubbing and squeezing had made a bubble in Arleen's fanny.
So to the toilet, where she turned up her tight skirt, pulled her dainty black panties down around her knees, and squatted in the usual way. She watched the golden urine pour from between her sex lips and thought of Mr. Ford. Thinking how he'd like to see this, she betted he would throw his lot at this scene. Well, perhaps one day if he was nice, made her a present. The very thought made a shiver course through her and she rose from her squatting position, took a towel and dried between her thighs, looked down at her rosy niche before pulling up her panties.
Now a swift glance in the mirror a hasty dab of powder here and there, and she was ready for the fray. And fray it was. For Arleen now had to get from Liverpool Street to Victoria in the Underground and anyone who has made that journey during the rush hour knows what I mean. For her, on this journey, anything could happen, and frequently did.
It was a positive disgrace, thought Arleen, as she bought her ticket and made her way down the escalators, that people should have to travel in such conditions. It was appalling, and some people were trying to get something done about it, the spoil sports!
For Arleen enjoyed this part of the journey as much as the other, even more. It was more exciting. The way men would come gradually from one end of the carriage, thinking unseen and get near her. To stand close, to rub themselves against her, the saps!
And today wasn't any exception. Except perhaps that the Underground seemed more crowded and the carriage she got was packed.
No one offered to give her a seat, she had to hold onto the strap, swinging back and forth as the train tore along the tunnel, her breasts arched out on her chest in this posture, lots of guys looking longingly at them which pleased her a great deal.
The guy seated in front of her pushed out his knees so that they touched hers. The guy behind was pressing into her bottom with his belly and another guy standing at her side, also holding onto the strap like her, was leering down the V of her blouse eyeing the voluptuous curves of her round, smooth but firm breasts. Arleen, although pretending to be unaware of his attentions, could not suppress the rising surge that shot through her tense breasts therefore making her nipples harden.
Altogether a satisfactory morning, thought Arleen. At the next station, the guy who'd been rubbing himself at her bottom left the train and there was a hasty movement on the part of another man to occupy that desirable position.
The carriage filled up even more at this station. Crowds surged all around Arleen, and still they shoved and pushed to get into the carriage. One guy got his coat caught in the door, and the guard had to order the doors to be opened. In fact, they opened at least three times to get clear of the bodies of would-be travelers and when the train finally started again, there was hardly room to breathe. Arleen didn't hold onto the strap anymore, she did not need to. She just stood there crushed by bodies, and swayed this way when the bodies went that way, which was quite delightful as far as Arleen was concerned.
But what was this" that was happening to her at the rear? This was something unusual, and very satisfying for Arleen. Often guys pushed their bellies into her backside, she'd felt many a man grow large and strong in his trousers as she moved her bottom rhythmically back and forth on his stomach.
But this wasn't a man's belly, it wasn't a man's cock, it was a man's hands roving over her shapely bum. Her bum twitched under the tantalizing touch of his fingers and it was clear that the man reckoned she liked it and was encouraged to go further.
Arleen's breasts rose and fell to her quickened breathing as the man's hands wandered over her cheeks, feeling him caress the flesh, then taking a cheek each in his palm and squeezing. She started, it apparently scared the man and she felt the hands leave her person which was very disappointing to Arleen because she had began to feel warm from his touch.
Yes, what saps these guys were to take such a chance. Perhaps he thought she was going to complain, to make a scene. But she assured him on that point by thrusting her audacious buttocks against his belly time and time again as the train swayed, and the passengers pithed and tossed.
So encouraged, she was requited by feeling the man's strong and firm hands back again, this time getting more daring and nicely so. For the fingers probed deeply into the valley of her cheeks, pushing in the material of her clothing so that he could feel her better.
His fingers delved and probed, and she started again as she felt his finger actually poking against her anus. She wondered if he could feel that he was doing throuth the clothes, if he could feel her anus in the same way as she could feel his finger in it.
When the train stopped and the passengers got out, others got in, the man paused in his lechery, withdrew his hands, but started again as soon as the train resumed its journey.
And each time more daring than the last, much to Arleen's appreciation, as his fingers felt her bottom, as they went underneath, as they pushed against the skirt and as a long finger worked up and down along the valley of her arse.
Arleen was hot and bubbly before she arrived at her destination, somewhat sorry to leave, wondering what the man would have eventually done had she stayed on for another station or two. But she was glad in a way to leave the hot carriage, and get into the fresh air, for she was near to fainting.
But a sound close behind her told Arleen that the man wasn't giving up so easily . ... he was following her.
Swiftly she went up the stair, towards the ticket collector, handing the piece of cardboard to him and passing through the barrier.
She smiled to herself, as she heard the ticket collector arguing with the man, demanding more money, as he had apparently come many stations over his journey available on the ticket.
With a swift look behind her to see what the man who had so openly assaulted her on the train was like, she turned, making her way into Victoria Street and into the office of Bridges and Co.
The uniformed commissionaire at the door gave her the eye, which was nothing unusual and she headed for the lift.
'Say, you're looking swell this morning,' commented William, his eyes running over her.
"Thank you, William.' she smiled, presenting herself under his gaze.
"Oh sure, sure, swell baby.' grinned the freckled boy, 'Just look at those tits ... you can almost see them under that blouse.'
"William!' Arleen was forced to reprimand him. 'You will please remember you are talking to a well-bred young lady-and not some common tart that you doubtless hand about with on the street corners at night.'
That ought to settle him, she thought, but William was apparently very thick skinned and he came up for more. In fact, he made so bold as to come close to her, to put out his hand, to move it over her prominent breasts. She let him toy with her breasts for a short while, writhing as his fingertips made contact with her nipples. Then, as he grew too daring, as he actually pinched them under the thin material of her blouse, so she slapped his face.
William could not give a girl a nice present, he had not got any money. Only the small wage he earned here, and best part of that he had to give up at home. And besides, William was an office boy and office boys must be made known their position.
When the lift reached the sixth floor, the gates clanged apart, and one of the travelers got in, so he leered at Arleen, gave a quick glance at William and laughed.
'Say, William . ... your face is rather red. Someone been slapping you. Well, serves you right, you little bastard . ... no girl is safe around with you.'
'Ballocks!' was William's swift and inelegant reply as he hastened out of the lift, nearly dodging a well-aimed clout.
'Say, how about a date, honey?' sang out the traveler after the retreating figure of Arleen. She turned her back and muttered....
'I'd be safer with William than with you, you big bad wolf.'
She was answered by a long, low wolf whistle, which followed her all the way until she turned the corridor.
In the general office, there was a clatter of typewriters and a buzz of voices and someone called out to Arleen....
'Say, Belham wants you in his office.'
'Yeah ... he is probably going to fire you for always being late,' sneered a platinum blonde who hated Arleen's guts. 'llnless, of course, dearie, you want to play along with Mr. B-and that should not be hard with what you're showing.'
'Some have got something to show' replied Arleen, refusing to be ruffled.
T mean dearie shouldn't you get a pair of falsies and some padding ... '
Arleen dodged as a paper clip machine hurled through the air and landed with a clatter on the floor. Arleen beat it to Mr. B's office, wondering what he wanted. Probably, as that platinum piece said, to bawl her out.
Seeing his opportunity to maul her around for the sake of keeping her job, threatening her with the sack if she did not mind him having a feel, but he was not going to do anything else.
She tapped on the door, a little timidly, no answer. She tapped a little harder and then tapped a third time. Still no answer, she turned the door knob, pushed open the door and peered in. Maurice Belham was not in the office, his chair was vacated. For a moment or so, Arleen wondered what to do. Then seeing some parcels on his desk, tied with fancy ribbons and clearly containing feminine apparel, curiosity got the better and she entered.
She knew it was forbidden to enter any office of an executive without permission and certainly not when that particular person was missing from the office. But she must see what Mr. B. had bought; she must take a peek at those parcels, forbidden or not.
She closed the door behind her, and swiftly walked towards the desk, her hands going to the parcels. She untied one, peered into a fancy box and beheld a wonderful creation in black lace. It was a negligee ... for someone. It could not be for Mr. B's wife, for everyone in the office knew they had not slept together for years; there were daggers drawn there. Well, it was not for her Arleen, for she was not ready to get into bed with him yet. He'd be unlucky if he was thinking of pulling that one. In another parcel she discovered a lovely matching set, a brassiere and panties, again in black lace.
She was soon to discover for whom the presents were intended. For a footstep at the door, a hand on the knob-and Arleen panicked. She took fright, knowing that she should be not here, and darted for a closet in the wall.
Not a moment too soon as Maurice entered and bringing a young lady behind him.
He was muttering loud, for all the office to hear . ... 'I have some important business . ... I want you to take something down.'
Huh; thought Arleen. Sure, and I know what it is you want her to take down. And the business. That's what you are going to give her. Arleen wondered who the girl was and peered through the keyhole. Good Lord, it was Penelope Penelope Panting, that big blonde from the filing office. What could she take down, other than the obvious....? She did not even know shorthand.
With her eye glued to the keyhole, she saw Maurice draw Penny down to his lap, saw the familiarity of his hands and knew this was not something just started today.
Their lips met, his hands ran over the girl's breasts, they sighed and panted.
When he pulled away, Penny was quite flushed.
'I've got something for you Penny ... for being a good girl' he laughed, getting up and going over to the parcels.
'Now come here and see if you like these. Mind you I shall want to know if they fit, personally.' and he chuckled.
'Oh, you!' said Miss Panting, her fingers swiftly untying the parcels.
She opened one and brought out the brassiere and knicker set, she fleshed red, as Maurice turned up her dress and made her hang the panties in front of her dress 'for size' as he said.
The next parcel containing the negligee was opened, again Penny was flushed with pleasure as she held the wondrous expensive creation against her full and pretty body.
Finally, the third parcel was untied, the one that Arleen had not been able to investigate, and Penny drew out a gorgeous black gown.
'Oh, its simply superb' she cried, and seizing the dress in her hands she pressed lovingly against her cheek as if it might have been human.
'I wanted you to wear something like that.' said Mr. B. 'To wear when we got out to dine ... after all, my secretary must look the part.'
'I'm not your secretary, and we seldom go out, sighed Penny, 'You usually have other ideas.' Maurice laughed.
'Oh, like the ones I have got now. How about changing eh....just to see if its right....?' he persuaded.
Penny looked a little doubtful, she looked at the door. 'Supposing someone should come in....? she began. Maurice assured her....
'You know very well no one is allowed to come into the office of an executive' and reminding Arleen of her precarious position in the closet. She dared not come out now; she wondered how long she'd have to stay . ... and watch.
Not that the watching was hard on the eyes. For Penny was showing her graditude for the expensive presents in the usual way, cuddling and hugging her boss, pressing her full, voluptuous body into his, kissing passionately.
'Right, now let's see how the dress fits, eh.' Maurice spoke hoarsely, anxious to get her in the nude.
'Alright.... but you must not look.' said
Penny and Arleen almost laughed out loud. The old gag. How many times she had used it herself.
But Maurice was muttering....
'What and spoil half the fun. My dear girl, all my dreaming and waking moments are filled with memories of that wonderful body of yours those big, hard breasts, those firm, swelling thighs, that bottom....'
Maurice was certainly not a stranger around these parts, thought the girl in the closet as she watched Penelope removing first her blouse and skirt, dropping them to the floor and then her brassiere.
As the big breasts came popping out, so Maurice could not contain himself. He came up behind her, holding the new black lacy brassiere, his arms going under her armpits, his hands to come out in front of her, holding the brassiere out for her to fit her breasts into the cups.
'Naughty, naughty,' she laughed, as the lacy black cups took the breasts, holding them up high and frim so that they were wonderfully shown.
'A little too small, my dear,' leered Maurice as he looked over her shoulders at the full breasts overflowing into the frail material.
'You must have put on some more development since last time. They are growing bigger, doubtless you have been massaging them.'
'Maurice, if anyone is to blame for that, it is you.' she breathed and his hands ran over the twin delights.
'You never stop massaging them.'
'Can you blame me?' grinned the man.
'So beautiful, so firm and full.'
Penny was flattered and pleased at his remarks. She picked up the dress, stepping into it, wriggling it up her body, even as Maurice still had his arms around her.
'Please, Maurice ... I can't fit the dress on if you won't let me go,' she smiled up at him.
Reluctantly, the man withdrew his arms, but only for a minute or so. He assisted her to zip up the dress, and then eyed her with positive lechery in his eyes. The big, buxom blonde revealed her lush full curves inside the dress like it might have been a second skin.
'Wonderful,' muttered Maurice, pressing into her from around the back, as he looked down over her shoulder into the V of the dress. His arms went around her again, his hands were massaging the under surface of the big breasts, while his lips brushed up and down the nape of the girl's neck, sending shudders through her voluptuous form.
The platinum blonde turned her neck aside, this way and that, in a mock struggle, but in reality exciting the man all the more.
He placed nudging caresses behind her ear, his lips sucked at the nobe, he nibbled, making her squirm in his arms, her writhing behind thoroughly exciting his penis, and making its presence known to the provocative young lady, as he thrust his thighs tightly up against the back of Penny's.
Suddenly he turned her around, forcing her to face him. His arms went around her body, she writhed into him, as his lips possessed her.
Arleen, watching from her concealment, felt the hot surge of passion overtaking her, as she saw the two working bodies, as she witnessed Maurice's hand run up and up the tight dress.
It was a difficult job to get his hand up there, the dress was so tight.
'Come on, over there,' his voice was choked, as the girl's hands were on the bulging in his pants. He practically dragged her over towards the desk where he sat down in the swivel chair, swiftly releasing his prick, and then pulling the young girl down on his lap.
"This damned tight dress.' fumed the man, trying to get it up.
Penny chuckled. 'You bought it for me.' she reminded him. 'But never mind, let me pull it up.'
For a second, she eased her bottom from the man's lap and pulled and tugged the dress right up, so that when she squatted on his lap again, her scantily-clad bum was exciting his length of flesh.
Muarice gloated down on the lovely legs of his compantion, as she lay in the crook of his arm. His other hand went down to her legs, fingers stroking up and down the length of nylon-clad limbs, to come up to her swelling thighs, to touch the warm, nude flesh, to feel her writhing response.
As Arleen watched, the caresses grew more and more intimate, his fingers going right up, curling under the edge of the lacy briefs, sending shivering thrills not only through the recipient of the caress, but through Arleen's body as well.
Progressively, Maurice multiplied the rhythms of his caressing fingers, clearly intent in working this silver -haired miss into a desperate state of desire. She was moving about on his lap, madly, her thighs were undulating all the while, she sighed and breathed soft words of encouragement to him and it was evident that she desired nothing more than these caresses should continue indefinitely.
'Oh, stop, you'll have me going mad with your tickling fingers,' she panted.
Maurice teasingly removed his hand from between her thighs, muttering, 'Sorry ... I thought you liked it....'
She seized his hand immediately, groaning out her desire, bringing it back to its former place....
'Oh, no ... for heavens sake ... I don't mean it. Don't stop now, for heavens sake ... '
The man grinned, and his fingers were doing the very devil to Penny under the frail knickers. Arleen wished she could see, but judging by the platinum blonde's movements, he was well fingering her, probably playing with her clitoris. Arleen's hand went down to her hot bubbling fanny, rubbing it hard over the skirt.
Penny, moving wildly on her knees, her breathing becoming more and more labored, suddenly sprang up from the reclining position in the man's arms.
Flinging both her arms around his neck, she kissed him passionately, moaning out, 'Oh, Maurice, give it to me ... please. Don't tease me any longer.'
This was what the man wanted to hear. He looked at her body so wantonly displayed, his eyes gleamed lustfully, as he demanded, 'Ask me nicely then. Say it . ... let me hear what you know I like to hear.'
This always gave Maurice an odd kick, hearing her plead for it, hearing her mouth with the lewd expressions he'd taught her.
'Oh, Maurice ... please give it to me. Let me feel your long cock in my cunt, driving deep into me, let me feel the spunk shooting out, to flow and mingle with my love juices ... I want it, Maurice, I want it.'
"Then you shall have it.' said the man. 'Lift up a bit ... '
The girl lifted her backside from the man's lap, he tugged out the erect prick, held it, indicating for her to bring her burning fanny down on it.
The girl's hands went between her legs, she parted the knickers, bared sufficiently of her cunt to take the man's rod, and then slowly lowered herslef on it.
As Arleen heard the long, deep sigh that excaped from her lips, as she saw the impalement of that length into the girl's willing cunt, so Arleen was suddenly seized with a spasm of her own.
Panting and vibrating she rubbed herself as hard as she could. And then she tugged up her tight skirt, and her hand went deep between her thighs. She frigged herself like fury against the material of her knickers. Maurice held the girl by the hips, he worked her up and down on his lap, his cock ravaging her pussy well and truly. Her pelvis was pumping up and down in drenzied excitement and animal-like sounds proceeded from her mouth. 'Please, please ... ' she spread her legs wider, she was resting on her toes, as she backed her arse up and down on his lap.
For Maurice loved to tease; he also loved to prolong the act. And now he was holding her up, with just the tip sticking between her juicy fanny-lips, looking over her shoulder at the wonderful sight.
She moaned out again, her bottom quivered, she would not be teased and she brought her bottom down again on his lap with all force.
The cock went in so deeply, with such sudden fury, that it was the man's turn to groan.
And just at that moment the phone rang. With a muttered curse, Maurice grunted....
'llold it a minute, randy bitch,' and picked up the receiver.
In a choking harsh voice, he demanded to know who the devil it was. The voice at the other end, a female's spoke. It was his secretary from another department, evidently wanting to know about an important matter.
'Won't it wait?' groaned the man into the phone, as his delicious companion worked up and down on his rod. It appeared it couldn't wait. Maurice, under extreme provocation from the silver-haired miss, grunted and made jerky sounds into the phone, so much so that the voice at the other end inquired 'Are you alright, Mr. Belham?'
OF COURSE I'M ALRIGHT ... I'M ... ' suddenly Maurice realized he was shouting at the top of his voice. The hot semen was rushing up the length of his cock, the cunt was holding and crushing his knob as if in a vice, her movements were frantic.
'Call me back-later-when I'm-not busy.' he crashed down the receiver, just as he was spurting.
He seized Penny by the arse, he twister her over the desk in front of him, and holding her down, fairly pummeled into her from behind, making her grunt and groan. The bludgeon bashed and bored into Penny's palpitating pussy, the hot semen gushed and flooded into her cunt, her own juices flowing over his prick. And right in the middle, who would come in but the senior partner of the firm, an elderly Mr. John Griggs. He stopped dead at the door, his eyes popping from their sockets at what he saw. Too, too late, Maurice pulled out of the disheveled Penny, pulling down her dress with one hand and putting his dripping cock away with the other.
'What the devil,' bawled the grey-haired J.G. 'ARe you mad, sir. Right here in the office ... for all to see.'
'No one saw,' grunted Maurice, mad at being seen in the act. 'If people would only knock on doors before entering ... '
Do my ears deceive me? Have I, a senior partner in the firm got to knock on doors in my own building. And tell that disgusting hussy to adjust herer, clothing, she's showing all she's got. Tell her to get out.'
Maurice muttered to Penny to remove her person. She was struggling with her dress, wriggling it down over her hips and bottom. She grabbed the discarded dress and brassiere and quickly hastened from the room.
Leaving J.G. and Maurice bawling at each other and which finally ended by the younger man dashing from the office with the parting shot-the truth of which hurt J.G. more than anything. 'You're only bloody mad because you can't get 'em to lay for you.'
This left Arleen still in the closet but now she was intrigued with the idea of coming out and showing herself off to J.G. But to her disappointment the senior partner within seconds, also stormed out of the office, Arleen took her chance promptly to remove herself from her precarious position and also left the office. Now she had something to look forward to in the future as far as the executives and senior partners of the company were concerned.
Having given a glimpse in the life of Arleen, perhaps it might be as well to have a glimpse at the other feminine beauty, her mother, Julie. Julie was a replica of her daughter, only in a more mature way, of course. Same fair hair, kept radiant and luxuriant by frequent visits to the hairdressers, she well knew how to fill out a dress or a costume and was the envy of all the neighbors.
Mrs. Julie Andrews knew quite well at this moment, as she stepped out of the house on her journey down to the shops, that the women of Afacia Avenue were peering through their curtains at this very moment. Mrs. Andrews swung a mean hip as she ventured down the street, not worrying even what the women thought, but rather the men.
'Just look at her,' said Mrs. Ford to her companion, as they peered through the curtains. Allow that woman dresses. Yet she must be forty if she's a day,' went on Mrs. Ford cattily.
As a matter-of-fact, Julie Andrews was a nice thirty-five and could look even younger when she liked. Such as on social occasions, when she could wear a wonderful black gown, that would take away some of the plumpness of her body, and make her look slimmer. But Julie's lush, if plumpish body was just the thing that the middle-aged men of Acacia Avenue liked. Mr. Ford of Percy Pratt, even the dashing major, found an appeal in the firm, lush proportions of Julie's body and it was a comforting if disturbing thought, to imagine those fleshy proportions cuddled up beside one on a chilly autumn evening.
'Sure. It beats me,' said Mrs. Pratt to the other. T mean, that house, well it must have been three thousand pounds if a penny. And she moves into it, just like that, and with no visible means of support. I mean, no sign of a man in the house....'
'Not that we know of, my dear. But there are tales.' She murmured low to the other woman, Mrs. Pratt opening her eyes in some surprise.
'Although, I shouldn't be surprised,' she said, though it was clear she was. 'And that daughter of hers. To see the way she dresses. Practically shows everything she's got. Disgusting I call it. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she's no better than she ought to be.' concluded Mrs. Pratt.
The two women watched the retreating figure of Julie until she was out of sight. At the corner of the turning, Julie barged into the rector, the Rev. Julius Seazer.
'Ah, my dear Mrs. Andrews,' he drawled, taking her hand shaking it and apparently not wanting to let it go. 'I do so hope that you like here in our little community . ... settling down well, eh?' and his eyes feasted on the full figure of Julie.
'Oh, yes. I get along well with most people,' said Julie, emphasizing the most.
'Charming, charming.' intoned the man and it seemed more that he was referring to the hand of the lady that he still held rather than anything else.
'May I have my hand back?' Julie smiled into the man's face.
'Oh, certainly,' he gave a high pitched laugh. 'How silly of me ... I'm most forgetful.'
He chatted on, mostly about the church, and the various functions.
'Oh, you really must come along one Sunday.' he said. 'And what about joining the choir? I'm sure that with such a physique ... ' he stumbled on the word. 'That you would have quite a mellow voice.'
Julie smiled, told him she'd think about it and proceeded on her way as the rector, looking quickly around to make sure he was not observed, looked at the exciting form of Mrs. Andrews from the back.
She entered the various shops with an air that suggested she might own them. Completely without scruple she sought out the male assistants to serve her, for she very well knew she could influence them to put it on the account, although in many cases she was sadly behind payment.
That is why she chose the smaller shops to do business the one man business shops, like Mr. Lamb's, the shop she was now entering.
For she found it quite easy to use her sex appeal on the little men. By lewd talk, by giving them vague promises she usually got the owner to put it on the account, and she would walk out smiling, knowing she'd won again.
As she entered the butcher's she frowned a little. For Mr. Lamb was proving to be a difficult customer, and her bill was mounting every day. Mr. Lamb had lately shown that he wasn't prepared just to have Julie smile and wriggle her hips at him and let him talk all that smut, but that he wanted something more definite than vague promises that she held out.
'Good day, Mr. Lamb.' said Julie, going towards the man, after waiting for the sole woman customer to leave the shop.
Mr. Lamb's eyes took on that usual glint as he surveyed the fine body of Mrs. Andrews, he came around from behind the counter and stood close, his eyes roving down into the depths of her low-cut dress.
'And how are you today, my dear?' asked the butcher, 'you are well. I might add you are looking extremely beautiful, ravishing.'
'Oh please, Mr. Lamb,' Julie made a gesture. 'I bet you say that about all your lady customers.'
'Only one,' he muttered, coming even closer, pressing a leg against hers. The woman made no attempt to repulse him, rather the reverse. Small wonder that the butcher went on:
'God, what you do to me. When I look at that wonderful body, so alluringly revealed in that dress, I forget everything but my desire for you.'
His arm was around her waist as he went on.
"Those marvelous breasts, so firm and rounded; those wonderful thighs, pressing out against the material of your dress, full and fleshy; those buttocks, such beautiful buttocks.' his hand dropped to the item under discussion.
'So developed, so meaty.'
'Oh, dear, Mr. Lamb.' Julie laughed teasingly. 'Is it a woman you are talking about or just another carcass of meat?'
'Oh, if you were a carcass, I'd have you on my operating block in next to no time,' he chuckled, pinching her bottom. Julie jumped.
'Really Mr. Lamb.' she protested and started to move away, walking slowly around the shop, selecting this and that, and giving the man a good show, for she well knew his eyes were on her body.
'Expensive, dear cuts, eh, Mrs. Andrews?' said the man as she placed various items on the marble counter. She got his meaning and said at once, 'Oh, yes ... I'm afraid I'm quite behind in settling my bills. But if you can wait until the end of the week when I shall be expecting a remittance ... '
'My dear Mrs. Andrews,' the butcher's arm was around her waist again, he was pulling her gently towards the side of the shop where there was an alcove, and no one could see. 'I'm prepared to wait indefinitely, providing ... ' and his eyes looked meaningly into hers. Julie pretended all innocence.
'Providing ... whatever do you mean, Mr. Lamb?'
Suddenly he was seizing her strongly, his mouth trying to possess hers, as he grunted out, 'You know very well what I mean ... don't let's play games any longer Mrs. Andrews. You know I'm crazy for you, that I desire you more than anything. Just say the word, and I'll forget the account, I'll tear it up ... '
'You would?' the voluptuous woman teased, gently rubbing her thigh against his. He raised her dainty hand, he covered it with kisses, as he muttered out more lewd suggestions.
Then he seized her to him again, sought her mouth, as the woman teased some more, moving her face back and forth, sighing in his embrace.
'Oh, what a devil you are ... oh, what would people say if they saw...? '
'Damn the people,' Mr. Lamb swore.
He struggled some more, she yielded her mouth to his, and she found him clumsy, although doubtless bursting with passion. She encouraged him to put his tongue in her mouth while his hands caressed her full breasts, running over and over them.
'Oh, no, please Mr. Lamb'. She withdrew her red mouth from his, she pretended to be shocked. This little game was amusing, exciting.
He was undoing the front of her dress with one hand as the other was around her. She writhed into him, still pretending to be shocked, to protest. Yet she moved her belly against his seductively, rejoining to feel something that jerked and jumped as she writhed against it. He had the front of her dress undone, his hands were delving in lifting each wonderful breast from its brassiere cup, crushing them in his palms.
Her efforts to escape would not have kidded anyone, much less Mr. Lamb, although her weak struggles did add further to the man's excitement and to her own sensuality as she pretended to fight him.
He kissed the breasts again and again his lips sought the red nipples making her shudder, not only in sensual excitement but at his carnal cruelty. For he chewed on them and her pleasure was mingled with some pain.
She drew his face away again and again, but each time he went back to them. He bent her back, so that her breasts were arched upwards out of her open dress, making them a glorious offering to the man's avid mouth. He bent his head to the open dress, and covered the space between them with hot ravenous kisses and then turned his attention to each glorious globe in turn. She was well back against a rail and she yielded her body up to the amorous man. His hands now caressed her waist, her hips, her thighs, she heard him groaning against her heaving bosom.
A hand went down, over her thighs, down to her knees where he commenced to draw up her dress. This had gone far enough, thought the woman, especially in the open shop. Suppose someone was to come in?
As she began to struggle again, so she realized the lust that she'd stirred within him, realized that soon there would be no holding him back. She was almost hoping that someone would come into the shop....
His hand went up between her legs, up between her thighs, to pause at the hot nude flesh at the stocking tops, to feel the fingers feeling her flesh, to stroke and caress. She murmured out a protest as his hand now proceeded to go higher, to reach her dainty panties.
'N-no, please ... ' her own voice filled with emotion, even though she tried to disguise it. 'Not here, not in the shop.'
It was as though he'd not heard her as his fingers were dipping into the top of her panties, his fingers touching the warm belly, going down, seeking ...
The elastic of her panties were stretched to breaking point as he forced his hand deep into the garment, as a long finger stretched downwards towards her most secret place, towards the downy quim.
Devilishly she pushed it towards him, his finger touched it, just touching the tip of the length of her vagina.
But on investigation, he felt her clitoris, firm and erect and he muttered, 'God, what a marvelous bitch you are. Your quim so hot and moist, the clitoris already erect, revealing the passion within this wonderful body, a body made for love.'
His words broke the spell, she was pulling away, and to ease matters for her, the shop bell rang.
'Someone has come into the shop.' she whispered. 'Quickly, take your hand out of my knickers ... let me pull my clothes down.' Reluctantly the man had to comply. Keeping the customer waiting as she tapped on the counter, he bawled from behind his concealment.
'Shant be a minute ... just going over a carcass.' and he chuckled at his joke, as he leered at Julie, rearranging her panties, and then smoothing out her dress over her thighs and buttocks.
'Look, leave the purchases,' he whispered. 'I'll bring them up to the house ... its early closing in any case. Let me ... let me-and I'll forget about the bills ... and all other bills.'
A somewhat cynical smile appeared on the woman's lips. She seemed to be hesitating.
'Alright ... just for a little while. But don't let anyone see you ... you'd better come to the back ... be discreet, there are so many nosey old cows in the street. The man promised.
'And you'd better go out the back way,' he indicated a door at the rear. She turned, he patted her protruding buttocks, and watched her go, licking his lips at the thoughts of what he'd do later to this handsome, mature woman. Julie decided that she'd take a shower, to refresh and cool her down.
But although the shower might have refreshed, it hadn't seemed to have cooled her down. For the brisk towelling of her body, the massaging of her breasts, the rubbing between her thighs, had stirred her and caused her to think of Mr. Lamb, how she had aroused him in his shop, and of what he obviously intended to do to her when he arrived later. She sat in front of the dressing table, looking at her fast heaving tits as she fingered herself. Somewhere an auto-change record player was sending out music, soft and seductive, it gave a finishing touch to her mood. She wondered what she would wear for the man's great visit. Standing, she admired her body in the mirror and thought . ... why wear anything? After all, if she was any student of male behavior, and she was, Mr. Lamb would soon be having her clothes off and probably his own as well. She had a little tremor go through her at the thought and she fingered her frim rounded breasts, feeling the nipples go taut and hard.
She loved her breasts. She'd looked after them-and the rest of her body, well. For a woman of thirty-five, she had the firm, upright breasts of a woman of many years younger. Hands caressed her belly, her thighs, down to the pubis, which had a covering of fine, silky blonde hair.
Her thighs were pillars of firm, creamy flesh, the frame in which her downy secret was set.
Her buttocks as she turned sideways, were heavy and round, perhaps a little too massive to be considered perfect.
She must get that roller out more often, and take some of the flesh away, she thought. And then the next moment she was smiling as she beheld in her mind the look in the eyes of men as they admired her big, bouncy bottom. Yes, perhaps it was her asset, for the type of men she attracted were not the youngsters, the adolescents who like slim, skinny females; they were the more mature age, like herself, who wanted a woman with some flesh on her bones. What was it the poet had said....
'A woman . ... some skin and bones, a hand of hair ... ' Ah, as the cynic had commented but what about the places in between? Yes, Julie had plenty of places in between, places even where men like to linger to touch, to caress. The music sounded on her ears, soft and caressing, her hands went down to her pubic mount, she sawyed slightly to the music, as she pulled open the lips of her sex.
She could imagine Mr. Lamb doing all this, and more, to her. She caressed her sex, she let a finger push aside the moist lips and poke inside. A ripple of sensual desire went through her, as she started a back and forth movement into her quim, going into the action that a man's limb would perform.
As she stared at the reflection, her eyes bright, her breasts swollen with the desire she thought what a beautiful woman she was. As she moved sensuously to the rhythm of a tango, her finger deeply embedded in her quim, she saw a woman live with fire in her blood, a woman sensual by nature, a female animal, to be loved, to be desired, fought over.
With a sudden click, the record player stopped and brought Julie back to reality. Yes, she must get ready, she must dress. She wought in the wardrobe, and pulled out dresses by the score and discarded them all. Nothing, nothing at all for the occasion, the occasion to send the man mad for her. Finally, she contented herself with pulling on her legs a pair of finest black sheer nylons, tight length. A black suspender girdle, with four long decorated suspenders dangling from each side, making such a beautiful contrast against the creamy flesh when she adjusted them to the hose.
Now for some really high heeled shoes and she considered this was what would go down well with Mr. Lamb. She put on a diaphanous gown over her nudity, and it accentuated the gleaming whiteness of her body underneath.
She had barely completed the dressing of her body when the back door bell rang quickly, shortly.
She gave her hair a final pat and then went to the back door to permit Mr. Lamb to enter.
To say that the butcher stared would be to make an understatement. His eyes bored into her, she laughed a little self-consciously, telling him to place the goods down, and follow her.
And Mr. Lamb certainly did that. He followed behind, his eyes reveling on that lush body under the flowing gown. He could see the movement of her legs, the firmness of her thighs, the seductive wriggle of hips and bottom as clearly through the gown as if she'd been nude.
He could scarcely contain himself, he was crushing her in his arms, raining down hot, passionate kisses on her face, neck and shoulders.
She would have liked to have offered him a drink, to have teased him with her legs and breasts, to have driven him wild for her. But the man was not stopping for that. His hands were clawing at her gown, she was appealing to him not to tear it.
He removed the long, diaphanous gown, he stood back, admiring her semi-nude body for a long, long while, Julie filled with a proud, very natural instinct of conceit as the look of adoration mingled with lust in his eyes. She was a lovely, sensual animal, with long legs, firm thighs, made even more attractive by the high-heeled shoes.
He didn't seem to know where to start first. He kissed her neck and shoulders, he kissed her breasts, turned her around, so that he might look down at her arse. She felt his hot mouth roving over her splendid back, sending ripples of sensation through her. He was down on his knees, kissing her cheeks, pulling them open, to delve his face between them, to lick her anus. She was amazed at the man's powers, his capacity to bring her up to the highest pitch of excitement in such a short while. She turned, her hands went to his clothes. 'Remove them.' Her voice was hoarse. Between his efforts and hers he was soon as nude as she was, even more so. For the woman still wore her hose and girdle ... he liked her that way. Now they stood back, admiring each other and Julie was pleasantly surprised at the man's physique. If anything she had imagined he would have been paunchy, that his virility would have been in question.
But for a man of his age ... she supposed he would be about forty ... he was clearly fit and healthy. He had a bit of a paunch it was true, but nothing much. And he was strong, that was obvious. His muscles stood out, and best of all, from his hairy loins, there sprang out a long, jutting rod, at least eight inches in length. She gave a choked fainting cry, went to his arms and they began to feel each other with insatiable hands. They examined each other with hands on breasts and belly, down to their individual sex, where Julie held on to a massive pole by which she dragged him over to the bed. She fell backwards on it, her legs wide apart, invitingly. But he wanted to explore this piece of woman; a lot more. He shifted his bulk down on the bed, hands going over her, down to her legs, running up between the splayed thighs, but ignoring for the moment, the invitation to visit her secret nook. He played around with her pubic hair he teased and tormented her, as she had been planning to torment him. She gave a shuddering sigh as he found her clitoris, a little mound of flesh and took its measure with his finger. Now he began to rub it and the amorous woman squirmed on the bed in excitement and pleasure. His finger penetrated further and further between the lips, watching the salacious scene of her wet quim lips clutching and working around his finger like it might have been a prick. The further in her his finger went, the greater her excitement. She reached, seeking for his length. He placed her hand on it, she sighed in delight, and began to firm his member with the same passion which he frigged her quim.
'It's a lovely limb.' she sighed and began squirming to him. 'Come on up on me ... I want it ... I must find out what its like.'
He groaned some more, warned her not to make him come, as she took the knob between her lips, began to suck on it with skill. Yes, yes, he had known she'd be a hot one, but never had he thought she would be as hot as this. He reckoned she was no stranger to the amorous caress, to the sensual play. But he had not thought she would have been so skillful, so expert at handling a man's cock. God, she was bringing it up harder and stronger than he'd ever remembered.
Her greedy mouth labored over his prick with passionate skill, her teeth nibbled at the flesh now and again, hardening the thick limb all the more. Then her tongue went down to his testicles, playing around with them, licking them, moaning all the while.
Bert Lamb shuddered voluptuously, as she went back to his knob, as she sucked on it as at the same time her fingers played with his balls.
"Climb on me ... be savage ... be violent."
He rammed, rammed, rammmed ... his own climax fast approaching. Suddenly he gave an animal-like groan, the hot seed began to ejaculate from his knob, spurting into her avid cunt, to be sucked up greedily. It seemed that she'd got another mouth down there, one that was capable of seeming to savour each drop, squeezing him madly between her thighs, moaning for more ... more....
And then the ejaculation began to get slower, they became less violent, and finally stopped. Even when he'd dropped panting and puffing on her naked body, her cunt still sucked at his limp prick.
It was a long time after, Julie had left him to dress and had gone to cleanse herself in the toilet.
When she came back, the diaphanous wrap now around her voluptuous body, the man was doing up his pants.
He looked at her again with the glint in his eyes, she backed as he would have taken her again into his arms. "Good Lord, you look as radiant as ever," he muttered. "You look just as beautiful, even more alluring than before."
She was pleasantly flattered at his words, but she insisted on his going. "My daughter will be coming in soon from business ... and will expect her tea," she informed the man. "And it will never do to let her see you here."
Mr. Lamb shrugged, as he fished in his pocket, produced a wallet and peeled off two notes. "Here ... thanks for a good time," he muttered, placing the notes down on the table.
Julie frowned. "Oh, dear ... paying me off, eh? What does that make me ... a whore?"
"Oh, no, my dear ... nothing of the kind," Mr. Lamb hastened to add. "It's just a present ... er-to buy yourself some nylons, or something...." he ended lamely. She saw him out the back way, after first making sure the coast was clear, they had a further passionate kiss and he left.
And Julie, Mrs. Andrews, turned back and walked to the kitchen to prepare her daughter's tea, smiling to herself. It hadn't taken her long to get old Lamb into her clutches; she had made a start in the neighborhood. But she must make sure she obtained gentlemen who had a little more money and more prospects than the butcher next time.
Part Four
CHAPTER ONE
She was only a simple girl and didn't know what to do. At sixteen one can't be very self sufficient, and if one has been brought up in a slum district and has been the servant and mother to a crowd of children since the age of twelve, and has never been to school for a whole week at a time, does not even know what the town one lives in looks like and if one has a drunken bully of a father, one doesn't become the rebellious kind.
Joan had never been to the pictures, never read a book, never had a girl or boy friend, and apart from shopping, had never been a mile away from the dingy street she lived in or spoken to a soul during her whole life.
She was unaware that some people didn't live in dirty, insanitary houses and sleep in filthy bedclothes and eat from chipped and stained tin plates. She thought that smoke, dust, dirt and noise were everyday things of life.
Joan didn't know that any of this was exceptional and she accepted it as she did all that went with it.
She even remembered the facts of her mother's strange death and accepted them though they often gave her nightmares. She remembered how she had heard her father in a drunken mood, swearing and reviling the fat, middle-aged slut of a woman who was her mother and his wife.
They had rowed till three in the morning and the babies had cried and been ignored. Then suddenly, as they did sometimes, they made it up and started to drink and sing and then they went to bed in the next room and he started swearing again. Then the mattress creaked something awful and the woman started to cry out and slaps sounded as the man hit her.
Joan crawled out of bed to hush the four-year old boy who was crying and the row continued. She looked through the crack in the wooden partition wall and saw it all.
On the iron bed, the clothes disarrayed, her mother lay fat and naked and over he; was straddled the father, big, heavy and muscular, his face red and his eyes glazed.
He was fucking her mercilessly and with cruel pleasure was swearing at her all the time.
Suddenly, the watching girl saw him slump over the woman, and the girl knew that whatever he wanted he had got. She had seen him do this before and she knew that he'd sleep now and be alright till the next week-end. At this point the mother would revive and push him from her, turn on her side and sleep. But on this night the woman hung back off the bed, her eyes wide open, her mouth rolling and the man moved first. He withdrew from her and, releasing her legs, the woman fell from the bed, all fat and arms and legs. She slid over the edge and down on to the floor, where she lay on her back, quite still in a bundle of white flesh.
He whispered his wife's name and there was silence. Only the youngest child still sobbed.
Joan watched, eyes glued to the slit. She seemed to have expected all this, and yet she didn't know what to do. The man got down on the floor, and after a brief struggle lifted the woman on to the bed.
He put his head to her chest, and then, going over to the table, took a piece of broken mirror, which he used for shaving, and held it over her open mouth.
Then he sat quite still on the bed. At last, fumbling for his trousers, he lit a cigarette end and began slowly to dress himself.
The woman lay silent and motionless. The man pulled the bed clothes over her nakedness and put a pillow under her head. He put the toothbrush in his pocket and sat down again on the bed.
Something bit her and she began to scratch her flank. Her hand moved over her thin thigh and came to rest on her little slit at the base of her belly.
A small finger crept into the moist, smooth passage and then, biting the bed clothes, she moved it inside herself, faster and faster and faster!
The thrill that she had known for over a year now came to the twelve-year-old and she forgot her father, who sat smoking in the next room, and her mother who lay still and silent on the bed, and the two kids and also the baby.
She seemed in a sweet, soft place, full of light and sunshine and freshness, then she slept.
CHAPTER TWO
Next morning, her father told her that her mother had died in her sleep, and two days later they buried her. Then Joan's life started.
The girl never told her father what she had seen that night when her mother died. Her father never mentioned it. He drank more heavily and gave her only enough money to pay the fifteen dollars a week rent and the ten dollars for the food and household materials.
At first, the woman next door was kind, but the father eventually was rude to her. So Joan lost the only friend she ever knew.
Then, after two months had elapsed the father started coming home with a woman, sometimes with two.
The women, all flesh and hairs, with big titties, called Joan "dearie" and duckie; while Bill, his cock sticking out large stiff and red, was kind to her in his own way. He made her drink some yellow liquid which made her choke so that the others laughed.
Her father said that, since they were all undressed, Joan must be naked too. So he took off her long nightgown and left her standing naked with her long hair and white thin body. The father told his thirteen-year-old daughter Joan that he'd kill her or turn her out on to the streets if she told a living soul shat she saw and Joan promised that she wouldn't breathe a word.
Her father asked her if she had ever had a boy do things to her. She said, "Things like you do to the ladies?" and they all laughed and answered, "Yes." Joan shaking her head and blushing, although she did not know why, whispered, "No."
Then her father said he'd give her a thrill and touched her in the soft, warm cunny. He asked her if she liked it and she said "Yes."
The woman with the yellow hair called her "dearie" again.
She said, "It's lovely, dearie; although it may hurt first time." She said that was how babies were made. Joan had always wanted to have a baby of her own.
She looked at her father as he spread his knees open and kept rubbing his prick with his hand up and down the cleft till she had thrills all over.
Finally he pushed it right in, so that the cock-head was all inside the soft folds of fat flesh. It's end was against her little hole, and then he pressed and pressed. Slowly, in a new, painful but thrilling, way the hole got softer and bigger. Joan watched fascinated as her father's prick lost it's head inside her. There was a lot more to go and it didn't seem possible that he could get it all in. The older woman now sat on the bed behind Joan and held her shoulders so as to stop her struggling; because now her father's prick was beginning to hurt her thirteen-year-old cunt. But Joan would have done anything not to offend this new kind father and his undressed friends.
But it was hurting even though it was nice. Suddenly, she yelled and the woman put a hand over her mouth. Joan looked down through the red clouds of flashing pain and saw that her father's prick had gone right inside her, filling her with a sense of bigness and heat, stretching her inside. Now only the hairs on his belly were touching her cleft, which was all inside out and red open. All around his prick there was something red like blood.
Joan thought she was going to die, but the woman whispered that it was alright. She told her that the pain would go and that now she was a woman ... a woman that had been fucked. Beside her on the bed, the blonde woman was lying back, and Bill had her legs around his fat waist. His prick was going in and out of her hairy twat and she looked as if she was enjoying it.
A new pain shot through Joan's body and she bit her lips, as her father smiled and began to work like Bill. She saw two inches of dark prick come out of her and then go back in. It went deeper each time. He pulled it almost right out and then shoved it in deeper each time.
She felt full and the pain was still there, but it seemed unimportant compared with the thrill she felt in her pussy. She struggled with the woman, who was holding her, because she did not like lying back and wanted to pull her father closer to her. For the first time she liked him and knew why her mother had lived with him all those terrible years....if he could make a girl feel so wonderful, it was worth it, she thought. The father leaned over the girl and she had the flesh of his body close to hers. Her arms went up around his neck and her legs naturally wound themselves around his waist just like the blonde woman had wrapped hers around Bill's.
CHAPTER THREE
For the next six months she and her father slept together, and had all this 'fucking fun' as he called it; but soon he became cruel and would want to fuck when he came home to lunch. He wouldn't let her undress but would stand her up against the sink. He'd let his trousers down, pull up her skirt and it would all be over in a minute.
He wouldn't let her go out and as the years passed by it seemed like hell.
Then her monthlies started and he stopped doing it except with a rubber sheath. He said she mustn't have a baby. He beat her and he accused her of fucking with boys although she had never spoken to one.
Joan found herself with fifteen dollars under the bed, when the Spring came and the coalman, whose name was Jim, took her out for a whole day.
It was Spring; Joan was sixteen and she'd been fucked by three men, her father who she had loved for two years, Bill, who she hated, and Jim, the coalman, who was her idol. Jim took her right out into the country. They had tea in a cafe and he paid the girl for bringing it. Everything was clean and nice.
The dress Joan wore was old and shabby and her shoes were terrible, but Jim was clean and smart in a bright suit and new shirt. He looked handsome and his hair was a golden color without coal grime in it. Only his hands were still stained from his work.
Jim took her out to a place where there were no roads, only grass, bushes and trees. There were very few people about, and those that they saw walked arm in arm or sat close to one another and kissed or lay under bushes. The sun made the clouds all red and pretty. There were golden flakes in the sky. Jim found a place that was all soft grass and they sat down.
Joan was nearly crying with happiness and Jim said in a sure matter-of-fact way that in a couple of years they could marry and get a nice house like they had seen from the tram. Joan didn't believe any of that. She knew she'd spend all her short life looking after the kids and her Dad in the cock-side street. But it was nice to lie and dream in Jim's arms.
When she did get home, her father was drunk and knew that she'd been out with a boy. When she admitted that a man had taken her out and bought her tea in a cafe with a waitress, and that she had seen a real sunset with gold clouds, he beat her up and threw her into a corner.
Then he ripped the clothing off her and beat her naked body again, bruising her firm tits. Then he forced her to the bed and tried to fuck her. Joan struggled and fought him, till he twisted her arm and finally shoved his prick up her. As soon as it was in, she forgot the sunset and let herself go back to the darkness of the night and her father fucking her.
She even enjoyed the familiar technique of his prick doing it. He came and this time forgot to use a rubber or to withdraw. When they went to bed, he was nice to her again and asked her pardon. He told her he loved her and would die if she left him. He made her swear never to leave him and asked her to suck his prick as she had done that first night, three years before.
Joan did so and lay iwth her head on his stomach, with his prick soft in her mouth, sobbing. He was kind and fatherly and he drew her up to him. They fucked twice more that night. Six weeks later she knew that she was pregnant and she told him. He swore at first and then said that she'd have to find a husband and put the other kids in a home or something because he was through. Then he got very drunk the same night she had told him and went out. He came back two weeks later from jail.
During the two weeks that her father was in jail, she told Jim that she was pregnant; and, although he knew that she was not a virgin when he had fucked her, he thought she'd been all his for six months and that the kid must be his. He said that he'd marry her as soon as possible.
When her father came home and she told him about Jim, the whole truth, and he was too broken to fight or even swear at her.
In the morning he was gone.
They told her three days later that he was in the dockside mortuary. He'd been found in the main basin and the verdict at the inquest was one of "Accidental death, while under the influence of alcohol. But, Joan alone knew better!
